#like the people who trained me drilled it into my head ‘do NOT write the vocabulary word until they’ve got the pronunciation down’

[pushingdaisies1]

Kinda hate you, kinda love you . . . ♡

(✧ ˚.) PAIRING-> James "Logan" Howlett {A.K.A} Wolverine x Reader >_< (✧ ˚.) SUMMARY -> Being an X-men was a lot for you to sign up for. Well.. you didn't have a chance to deny this safe haven. The school became your home and the people that made up the X-men like a weird little familial unit. You had many reasons for staying as long as you did, but one was more prickly and jaded. The feelings you harbored for a stern and calloused Logan were.. weird for you to feel firsthand. One day, you are stuck overlooking a danger room drill between Gambit and Logan. With the new member of your world-saving team Jubilee by your side, it's too dull to NOT talk with each other. She was a good kid, hyperactive and spirited that's for sure. You talk, and talk a lot you do to the human embodiment of the fourth of July. It makes you think a little bit too hard about yours and Logans... predicament. (✧ ˚.) AUTHORS NOTE -> Hiii!!! This is my first time writing stuff for Logan so - bee tee dubs it may be complete and utter horse shit. I'd like to thank @velvrei for helping me ignite some well-dead thoughts. Genuinely love ur work sm and reading that and a lot more new/old logan content helped TONS. This is linked to the {♡x-men animated series/x-men97♡} series. I do wanna write more for the Deadpool timeline xmen/early 2000s timeline xmen!! But after seeing the masterpiece that is Deadpool and Wolverine, I lowkey just clung to those shows. I love animated Logan!! He is even more emotionally stunted/sassy sad!! (✧ ˚.) CWS (?) -> Logan nd u are sad ppl who don't know how to voice ur feelings!! , pining from afar/one-sided not so one-sided yearning, UHM HURT/KINDA COMFORT??? MAYBE??? I THINK??? , unprompted suggestiveness from logan , mentions of struggling to connect with other ppl/fears of the future (bay bay jubilee my love) , u and Jubilee just kinda bond, off topic idk cajun dialect so..... , and u infodump as a weird suto older sister/mom in her life, this was all very spur of the moment so uhm - not proofread!!! kinda!!!!!!!

The dangeroom was a room a lot of the X-men team spent their time in. To either train for a new threat or for general movement, drills were a common theme. Especially after world-shaking events, which were always somehow a constant, the professor was the equivalent of an alarm clock. Drills this, always having to run down into the war room. You didn't mind the training sessions if it was one-on-one or even with the whole team. Sometimes though, it was almost nagging. 

Though there were little things you'd do to pass this time. If you were made to overlook it or otherwise. Most of the time there didn't need to be supervision within the training center itself. Everyone was on high alert, and off days were few and far between. Logan had been hashing it out with Gambit all morning and wanted to do a specific procedure setting. You held your head in your hands as you sighed at the grown men's demands. Gambit was a professional sweet talker, Logan wasn't when needed. Of course, you complied, understanding the sudden want for more extensive training. When Jubilee volunteered you started to not loathe the idea of sitting in on Logan and Gambit - literally butting heads. 

Jubilee was a nice kid, you felt bad for her sudden entrance into life within the school. The professor was welcoming as always. With your push and her foster parents wanting her to be safe from threats like the sentinels, she was a bonified member.

Being the "newbie" always had its drawbacks. From day one you made sure to have her back, you could relate to her whole fish-out-of-water point of view. Logan saw the way you attached fast to the kid. He was like a vault of thoughts and feelings. Thoughts and feelings he never wanted to bring up or even let alone talk about. But it made your heart flutter just a tad when he sat his hand on your shoulder, gently rubbing a thumb against it.

He had stopped you before you were about to retire to your room. In the doorway to your personal, pillow escape he made sure to reel you down to earth. "Give the kid some breathing room. I know you want to help but there's no use for you smothering her."

You were almost baffled. What was he going on about? You were just looking out for her? Deep down, you did know what he meant. He might have not been a long-term X-Men member. But he did know you and the fragments of "memories" you held so dearly close to your chest. You two were so different and yet one in the same. Before you could even argue, he gave you a small .. somewhat comforting pat on said shoulder. "Just a friendly word of advice bub, don't take it so close to heart. Oh wait, that's inevitable." He joked at you with his signature toothy grin. You couldn't help but scoff in surprise and laughter as he jabbed at you with his SINGULAR witty remark.

Logan could be many things. Rough around the edges, even a total asshole when he felt like it. But to you, he was your kryptonite. It was pathetic the way you'd always eventually be pulled to bend at that man's every word. He just did that to you, and you had no answer to it. 

Making your way up to the upper room with Jubilee, you watched with tired eyes as the door to the observation room slid open. Cold - walls and floor head to toe with this sleek metal texture. There were two chairs, right behind the control panel where the training sequence(s) would be initiated. Your eyes were trained on the window as you watched Gambit and Logan make their entrance inside the training room itself. Gambit of course was rapidly shuffling a deck of cards. They were almost flying in the palms of his hands as he prepared them. Logan was of course blabbing his big mouth, in his signature suit "lumbering up" as he would call it. Finally, as you just now sat your bottom into the smooth-cushioned observation chairs, Jubilee was already starting the conversation. Thank god for you as you were still shaking the morning off of you."So what? , we just watch them throw around with each other, or what?" She cracked with a curious glance at the two men down below. You rested your chin in the palm of your hand as you leaned back. "Pretty much, we're here just in case the system doesn't shut down in time. Sometimes it does that."

She paused before she gave you a pointed look, her chunky pink sunglasses almost falling off of her black head of hair. "We're babysitting them!?" She retorted with a sort of faux annoyance. "I mean it's 'something' to do but - come on...." She groaned as she crossed her arms, heavy in on the air quotations. Cutting in, you directed your hand to the control panel. "No no no, not just that.”

Gathering your thoughts, you pointed out each scenario on the deck. You couldn't help but crack a smile at Jubilee's small "ohs" and "ah's". With the development, you two were brought into a nice steady stream of conversation. Hunched in her seat, yellow boots crinkling in this position, she poked and prodded you about your style and so on. it was nice to be looked at with such idealization. Her eyes were huge with wonder as she jumped to questions and searched for answers. Though it was only so nice until the two of you were interrupted by the impact of a card deck. As it smacked against the window, you pinched the bridge of your nose.

Hitting the intercom, you cleared your throat. "So sorry gentlemen! You two ready or what?" You retorted as you leaned over the panel. Gambit gathered back the cards into his hands. "Me? , 'course cher! Any day I would love to stick it to da fuzz ball over der." He remarked with a scheming smirk. Logan growled as his claws immediately sprouted from his knuckles. "I'll show you fuzz ball you pest." His lip curled up almost like a predator ready to pounce.

Jubilee sat back quiet as a mouse as she watched you talk through to the two. "Alrighty alright! Save the pouncing for later." You barked with a small chuckle at the end. You couldn't help but feel buzzy at the way Logan reared his head up. Gambit was too busy swapping cards from hand to hand. But all of Logan's attention was just on you, it was always just on you.

 "Okay, how are we feeling about the ruined city for today?" You asked the two as Gambit started to twirl a card in between his middle and pointer fingers. "Yes yes yes, dat will do just nicely, right Wolvie?" He asserted - training a hard on the hard-headed "foe." Logan's voice was low and gruff as he found his stance. "Don't get so ahead of yourself Gamby." He retorted as he turned back to you in the window. "Start it up doll, before this one here loses all of his spice." He barked with a laugh as Logan jostled his mask on. You rolled your eyes with a faint smile. "If you say so, bee-tee-dubs .. don't kill each other! Please and thank you." You affirmed as the array of buttons were clicked. As the scenery shifted into a torn-down cityscape, foes were already on the two men. The only fun thing about watching over the training sessions was getting to watch fellow X-Men in action. Just not with the risk of losing your life in the process. Leaning back into your chair, you took in a nice breath of air. Peace, for now at least. Jubilee sat up more straight, letting her bright yellow duster-like jacket collect at the sides of her chair. She brought her legs to her chest as both you and she watched Gambit and Logans fighting. You could feel her eyes wander to you in the quiet. You looked directly towards her, a sympathetic smile gracing your face. "How are you feeling?" Your voice was small but warm, comforting almost. This was the first time someone had even really asked her. "I don't know... it's like everything is just changing at once. I feel like a big Rubix cube." She said with a frown as she got more comfortable where she sat. You nodded your head in almost remembrance. "Trust me, becoming an X-men isn't the hardest part. It's living like one." Admitting with a soft sort of comfort, Jubilee was already warmer than before. The training session flew by as you two just talked and talked. She lamented about what life would be like now, what she would and wouldn't miss. How she was stripped of living like a normal teenager. "I mean everyone here has already been so nice to me, but this is just gonna take a lot of getting used to. ", she would lament to you in honesty. You tried to be as insightful as possible. Telling her that living as an X-men will always be tricky. But there will always be the people around here that'll keep you steady. Her ears perked up when you listed off your so-called "anchors." She immediately butted in after you listed off the Wolverine himself, Logan. "That guy? You two seem to be always at each other's throats?" She cracked at you with an inquisitive grin. "Well I mean yeah - he can be .. overly confident a lot of the time." You were almost reminding yourself. You didn't realize how long you spent talking about your scruffy metal-clawed 'friend.' You went on and on about how he combated with you in the best possible ways. How with his time in the X-Men, he opened up your worldview in many instances. He did so much to you and for you. He was almost like your escape in a way, and he maybe shared the same view. You didn't get into the nitty-gritty details of it, 'cause ew. But the moments away from daily life hecticness within the school you and he shared were your favorite. His arms were the sweetest embrace anyone could ask for. But that's what friends do, that's what friends are for.

 Though you always wondered if maybe you were wrong. Maybe you were holding on to nothing. Maybe there was an intimate connection between you two hiding under the surface. But you had a track record of getting your hopes up. You dashed those daydreams away as Jubilee yanked you back down into the now of things. Time flew by as the training sequence ended. Logan was immediately gloating his way out of the danger room. You and Jubilee met the two halfway. Gambit sang your high praises as he lamented about kicking Logan's ass in the drill. As the two grown men bickered Jubilee made her exit known. Since the professor was already summoning them all to the war room. Gambit waved you off with a small wink and another grand shuffle of his cards. Which just left you and logan ... fun. 

He quirked his brow in your direction as he realized your quiet demeanor. “Can you believe the guy? - come on bub you saw me!” He said in astonishment at Gambit's gambit tendencies. You crinkled your nose in a small giggle. If you were seeing straight, you couldn’t help but notice a small dash of a smile on Logan's face once he saw your mood brighten. His smile always found ways to make your knees weak and arms all jelly. “Yeah yeah, dont get your panties in a twist Lo.” You said with a twinkle in your eye. A grin followed spreading almost ear to ear.

His eyes softened ever so slightly with your jokes. He grumbled out his poorest joke yet. “Oh, I’ll show you.” He retorted before yanking you into him. Your back met his chest plate as you felt his collection of sweat. His muscled arms wrapped around your midsection as he whirled you around like a windmill. You ignited with laughter and “yucks” as you felt his sweat spreading onto you. You fought out his hold with a grimace and a sheepish chuckle, wiping your eye. “Christ man, you got all your .. muck on me!”

By now his claws were already dashed away. So his hands were now placed on his hips. He rolled his eyes as he looked you up and down. “Come on, you’ll live to see another day shrimpy.” He claimed with his eyes slowly wandering. “I look like a wet dog thanks to you.” You frowned jokingly, shaking your arms out. “On and on with you.” He remarked once again with his eyes rolling AGAIN soon after.

Closer and closer the two of you got as you both threw phony insults back and forth. Before your lips were inches away from one another. He drawled his quick mouth up and spat back something that would leave your mind in utter… shock. Was confusion the right word?  “Don’t play around with me, dimples. I know you’d like more than just my arms around you.” You quickly gasped out the pocket of air you were holding onto. A long pause was felt throughout the hall before you two darted in separate ways.

“I need to change!” You sheepishly shouted as you headed in the opposite direction of him. He did the same, mumbling whatever under his breath. “Don’t slip and fall!” He coughed out as you rubbed your face in annoyance. “Eat shit, Logan!” , “That’ll be a long time coming!” The both of you remarked to the other in unison. Both of your voices share the same sort of flustered frustration. You raced into the showers as you soon stumbled towards the sinks.

You splashed your face with cold water as your heart was still racing. Your cheeks were burning up let alone from his words. But you were soon able to catch up with your breath. Regaining your composure you looked yourself in the mirror. Gritting your teeth as you looked at the fool Logan made you. The Wolverine could be a hard-headed buffoon. Always on his way to making a snide insult with whichever X-men member was disagreeing with him. But god damn it was he your poison. You hated him and he hated you. That was the thing that kept you steady as you changed into uniform and raced towards the ongoing meeting. You knew that same smile still lingered on your face once you made your entrance into the war room. Able to brush off the team's sudden accusations as you made sure to remind everyone about the issue at hand. The Professor thanked you as he went back to discussing what new threats plagued human life. Your eyes always made their way back to Logans with small lingers. Making eye contact with you, his eye-line was diverted by you as you turned your attention back to the professor. The Wolverine was a fool, and he had already found purchase in your foolish heart. 

ꔫ✉ reblogs/interaction is appreciated <3 part two - ⭐️

[honeipie]

I love love love your bakugou works! i was wondering if you could write something about him and like izuku, eijiro, shoto, and the reader all being firefighters. i just think ab katsuki in that black tank and the fuckin firefighter pants😋

24 HOURS

katsuki bakugo x reader

synopsis: dating your coworker can be fun sometimes

authors note: tysm!! katsuki would be such a good firefighter tbh 🌞

3:00 PM

“okay this is weird” currently you were in the passengers seat of your boyfriend’s pick up truck on the way to the fire station. luckily, you had both been called in for 24 hour shifts at the same time. katsuki rolled his eyes turning down the street.

“what?”

you motioned over to the radio which was playing your favorite playlist. the playlist that katsuki would complain so much about each time you put it on.

“you haven’t said a word about my music since we’ve gotten into this car” once he hit a stop light you leaned over the middle console getting close to his cheek “what is going on? are you mad or something?”

he turned his head giving you the smallest, quickest peck on your lips “nothin’s wrong” you squinted your eyes skeptically as the light turned green.

pulling out your phone you went to text the firehouse groupchat.

———

y/n

my boyfriend is way to happy at the moment.. what’s going on

izuku

just know that you won’t like it!

kiri

oh he’s not telling you? brutal.

—————

you had just pulled up to the station when you had read the message “katsuki, not today” there were tires, ropes, dumbbells, and ladders sitting outside and in front of the trucks. katsuki gave your thigh a strong squeeze with a smirk.

“happy drill day”

drill day. the one day out of the month where the whole station of firefighters would get together and do drills over and over for a couple of hours. this was your least favorite day considering everything it entailed. of course you knew that you had to stay in shape physically. it was just wasn’t that fun when you already have a trail of sweat running down your back and ruining whatever makeup you at least tried to do.

5:45 PM

“i hate him”

“then why are you looking at him like you want to lick the sweat off his body”

“first of all gross, second of all i may hate him but i’m not blind” you watched the man who was facing away from you. he was currently showing some of the rookies how to turn their sled pull into pulling the real hose.

his back muscles could be seen shifting quickly as he tugged on the hose from the truck. when he was at the end of the hose his arms flexed for one final tug.

he dropped the hose with a loud plop. he placed his hands on his hips and you could see his slow, heavy breaths from there.

“well? i just showed you how to do it. wrap the shit back up and show me” all of them scrambled to get the hose untangled and back into the wheel.

katsuki turned to face you immediately noticing the way you weren’t training.

“why the hell are you here?” he looked over at mina who was checking something on her nails.

“well my boyfriend and best friend work here, and i’m bored, so i think you can put together the rest of the pieces”

“don’t you got people to revive or some shit?”

mina was an emt for the local hospital. her and kirishima actually met at a fire scene when she came over to check out some of his injuries, and the rest was history.

“look at you loud and wrong. i’m not on a shift right now so i decided make myself feel better about my career decisions by watching you people workout for hours on end”

katsuki shook his head clearly fed up with her and the conversation. you just had to pick her to be your best friend.

“just standin’ here?” he asked standing directly in front of you.

“i finished” you huffed out looking up at him. the heat from outside was already kicking your ass, but him being up close made you feel hotter.

“alright, it’s time to do farmers carry. two laps around the room with a minute break in between”

a frown rested on your face when you heard he wanted you to do more. it had almost hit the two hour mark and you were ready to wrap it up.

“i don’t think i can do anymore today. my body hurts”

he scoffed hearing your words “and you know who else’s body is gonna hurt? the people dying in fires because you couldn’t carry them out”

“i’ve done it before so i feel like that doesn’t count” you reached your hand out placing it on his waist “c’mon lieutenant, go easy on me? just for today”

you’d pulled the lieutenant card. sure, that was his rank and people called him that out of respect, but you? you just did it differently. the way you enunciated the ‘t’. the way you’d touch him, because you always touched him when you said it. this was a rare pull so you must’ve been tired.

katsuki raised his eyebrow at your words. a smirk creeped onto his face before he leaned down giving you a long kiss.

mina’s face scrunched up in disgust, and the rookies just mumbled about how his demeanor switched so fast.

when he pulled away he whispered softly in your ear “you just earned yourself another lap. now get those dumbbells and get to work” he turned going back to check on the rookies’ progress.

“well that backfired” mina kicked her feet against the mat.

“yeah, ya think?”

so you the farmers carry, then worked on the stair machine for your last exercise. after that you made your way over to katsuki. he was watching the rookies start on their cooldown stretches.

“i actually finished this time so i’m going to take a shower” you gave him a sharp pat on the back and went to leave, but he grabbed you wrist dragging you back.

“you mad?”

“hm.. not if i smell okonomiyaki when i get out the shower”

you moved your hand away continuing your walk to the bathroom.

6:45

“thank you katsuki”

he only grumbled in response taking a bite of his. kirishima frowned in the corner arms crossed against his chest “why didn’t you make us any? we worked out hard too”

“not enough ingredients”

izuku sat beside you drinking his smoothie “y’know i hate liars. i restocked that pantry yesterday”

mina stood beside kirishima one arm wrapped around his waist “i could give you some of those leftovers from last night”

kiri shook his head “nah, i don’t really want that-“ he shifted his head to see mina giving him a look “oh! no yeah i want that” the two retreated back into the station with nothing more than a wave. shoto almost broke his neck watching the two go inside.

“they’re not gonna have sex in the kitchen right?..”

“no! not in the kitchen. maybe that big closet on the way, but not in the kitchen” you put the last bit of okonomiyaki in your mouth “i’m actually surprised you caught onto that”

“i know right? got the social cues of a fuckin’ boulder”

“katsuki that’s not funny” but the smile on your face gave away that it was a little funny. all was interrupted when a car pulled into the station. all four of you got up to see who it was. a woman got out of the car and made her way to the other side.

“hi! i’m sorry to cause you the trouble, but we’ve done everything and can’t get it off” she opened the door to reveal a boy, about seven years old, with his arm stuck in a water jug “i asked my dad what to do and he said you’d be able to help?”

you all had to stop yourselves from laughing when he struggled getting his arm out of the car.

“don’t worry about it ma’am. we can get that thing right off” you assured her with a smile. izuku had already went inside to get a pair of pliers.

“i know it’s stuck, but can you you still feel your arm? move it around without any pain?”

as you asked he lifted up his arm and slammed it back down into his side. the force took him by surprise and he ended up falling over “i’m okay!” he went to get up his mother assisting him.

“stop being a fool and answer the nice lady’s question please”

“my arm feels fine”

10:00 PM

“alright,” you placed your cards down onto the table and started to rise “i’m gonna head to sleep”

the crew mumbled quick goodbyes already setting up for another round. you made your way through the station until you reached one of the bedrooms. slowly, you opened the door making sure to not make too much noise. after closing it once more, you went to strip out of your clothes into something more comfortable.

“scoot over”

a grunt left katsuki as he rolled over to one side of the bed. it was no surprise that he was already asleep. this man worked like clockwork. exactly at 8:30pm every day he would stop whatever he was doing and head up to bed.

you crawled up next to him wrapping your arms around his torso. katsuki didn’t care about that big spoon, little spoon stuff. all he wanted to do was get comfortable and rest.

your head rested on his chest listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart.

“i hope we don’t get any calls tonight”

“me either”

4:00 AM

“i knew you’d like this one”

you had bent over laughing at the sight before you. a teen had gotten stuck in one of the baby swings, so they had to call to get him out. you were asleep when they got the call and katsuki refused to tell you what it was.

“how does this even happen?” you tried to subside your laughter walking over to go help kiri get the poor, embarrassed teen out of the swing.

“it was a dare! i couldn’t back down the stakes were too high”

you wrapped your arms under his armpits while kirishima got around his calves. you counted down from three then started to pull him out of the seat.

“what is more embarrassing than this?”

“asking my crush out in front of her whole lunch table”

“well hopefully her whole lunch table doesn’t see that recording” you nodded your head over to his friends who were videotaping the whole thing. the teens started to go back and forth as you wiggled him out.

after making sure there was no little injuries on him katsuki walked over “all of you should get home. we decided not to call the cops, but someone else might”

they all nodded their heads in understanding waiting until you turned around to whisper “i should’ve gotten myself stuck. she was bad as shit”

you cringed at the words, but katsuki let out a loud laugh. you slapped him on his arm going over to the truck “it’s not funny!”

3:00 PM

you hopped back into katsuki’s pickup with a smile on your face “another shift completed. i can’t wait to go home and get a good nights sleep”

he threw both of your bags into the backseat before getting into the driver’s seat. after the early morning call, there were a few others. a couple of bush fires, and people stuck in an elevator. safe to say, you couldn’t wait for your two days off.

“i bet you can’t. got a hot date with one of those boys? if i remember they called you bad as shit?”

you rolled your eyes at his little joke.

“shut up! you promised you wouldn’t bring that up again”

he shrugged a smug smile on his lips as he pulled out of the lot.

“can i play my music?”

“fuck no”

“katsuki!”

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[viennacherries]

I encroach upon ye with a request

Zevlor breeding kink with like, his long term partner who can’t get pregnant for one reason or another (whether you write them as amab or an afab person who is sterile/lacking a functional uterus is up to you)

Zevlor deserves to be really a little bit feral about his partner yk?? Let the man loose himself, it’d be good for the self-loathing imo (/hj)

hi bestie!! my first time trying to write zevlor so i hope u like it! mwah

CONCEPTION

Zevlor/Tav | NSFW | 2,898 words

Summary:

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.” She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath. “Come and get me.” ~~~ Tav and Zevlor want a baby, but things are rarely that simple.

Read it on AO3!

How long has it been now? Several months, at least. And yet he can't give her the one thing she yearns for more than anything. The gift of motherhood. 

Zevlor is certain it’s something wrong with him, because of course it must be. Perhaps it’s a punishment from the Gods for his failures against his kin. Perhaps they’ve deemed him unworthy and made him barren as penance for his sins. Him, an oath-broken paladin who couldn't resist the call of a false deity and sacrificed his people in his hubris, and her, the Hero of Baldur’s Gate who had been ready to sacrifice everything for a whole city of people she owed nothing to. He is broken and flawed in every way she is perfect and faultless. 

And, Hells , does it hurt. Because there's nothing he wants more than to make her happy. There’s nothing he wants more than to start a family with her, to see her hold their child in her arms and to place a kiss to both of their foreheads. There’s nothing more that he wants than to be a father and navigate the turmoils of parenthood with her by his side. 

And yet he keeps failing her. 

The worst part is, he’s fucking enjoying it. Laying with her every night, pumping his seed into her while she begs him to fill her. His infernal hindbrain lavishes in hearing her plead for his spend, in holding her down and filling her repeatedly, in watching his cum spill out of her and fingering it back inside her cunt to make sure not a drop is wasted. Some nights she’ll beg him to fuck her again and again, over and over until they’re both sore and exhausted, and he fucking loves it. 

But other nights, he’ll wake while the sky is still dark to a cold bed, and hear her sobbing in the other room. He’ll reach out his hand and be met with a small damp circle in the centre of the sheets, and he’ll know her cycle has come again. He’ll rise and find her, holding her while she sobs, and wonder how much longer he can stand to see her like this. 

And then they do it all again. 

He’s training in the low sun of the afternoon when she finds him, he feels her eyes on him and catches her leaning against a post from the corner of his vision. She looks radiant as always, wearing her favourite blouse and a skirt he doesn't recognise. 

He usually trains while she runs errands. It’s nothing as intensive as when he was a Hellrider; his joints complain far more these days. A young man he is not, but he still tries to keep himself in shape. Tav can more than hold her own, but he prides himself in feeling able to protect her, needs to know he’s strong enough to keep their family safe. So, when she travels into town for groceries, or visits the children at school to teach them about the Battle for Baldur’s Gate, he takes himself to the drill field on the outskirts and sharpens his sword. 

They’ve made their home in the burgeoning community Halsin has built in the Reclaimed Lands, and she’s absolutely thriving. Retirement from the adventuring life suits her. That's not to say she’s idle, but seeing her able to relax and travel for pleasure rather than a need to outmarch death fills him with joy. 

It’s been a few days since he’s seen her, her trip to the Grove taking longer than usual on this occasion. He’s a soldier, though, so of course he finishes his set before he turns to her (plus it sends a thrill through him, knowing she’s watching him, though he won't ever mention that to her). He wipes his brow along the back of his arm, spears his sword into the earth, and opens his arms wide to her. She giggles as she throws herself into his embrace and he swings her around in circles. That’s the other benefit to keeping up his training, being able to lift and carry her and hear the elated squeals she lets out. It makes him feel a far more youthful man than he is. 

Before he can ask how her trip went, she's kissing him deeply and smiling against his lips. Yet another way being with her makes him feel young; the way her every touch sends heat through his body as though he’s a virginal adolescent. Hells, he loves her so much. 

When she pulls away she’s grinning, and he can't help but return it. “Good journey, I take it?”

She laughs, and the sound is so weightless and musical it makes his head spin. 

“ Great trip! I have something for you - for us!”

He raises an eyebrow in question. She often brings him back little trinkets and treats from the Grove but it’s rare she’s this excited to give him them. 

Scratch bounds up to her before he can ask any questions and practically clings to her, and her beautiful laugh is back again. Whatever queries he may have had are forgotten as she kneels, cackling as Scratch smothers her face in sloppy kisses.

Usually she’ll bring back a brace of rabbits or pheasants that she’s hunted on the trek back, but she tells him excitedly as she brings out the meat for dinner that she managed to snag a deer. She stopped at a small trading post, where they butchered it for her and she traded them everything that wouldn't keep. She holds the venison steaks up proudly and he applauds her as she takes a deep bow, laughing her way through it. She also foraged some fresh herbs and wild garlic, and the traders gave her some asparagus and carrots in return for the doe. 

As usual, he offers to cook, and as usual he’s swatted out of the kitchen, so instead he vows to do the dishes and takes the time to set the table. He feels so lucky to be privy to the mundanity of domestic life with her, so he takes pride in setting their cutlery and placing the table mats down. He lights a few candles, too, because he’s nothing if not a romantic. Tav deserves candlelit dinners. 

He’s still not used to the way she looks after him. A lifetime of bachelorhood and swordsmanship doesn’t prepare a man for gentle touches and lovingly cooked meals. Zevlor considers himself a reasonably talented chef, and he’s not some invalid that never learnt how to do his own laundry, and yet Tav always insists on doing these things for him. He’s quite sure he’s never known a love like it. He’s so used to being relied on, and it took a long time to wrap his head around the idea of letting Tav carry some of his burdens. They lean on each other, they give each other balance and stability. 

Still, it’s always a competition to see who notices the washing on the line is dry first, and they’re often racing one another to take it down. 

Dinner is delicious, as always. The vegetables are roasted in honey and garlic, and she’s cooked the venison in butter which has it tender and flavourful. She even pours them both a glass of wine, and it pairs beautifully. 

When they’ve both eaten, the dishes washed and the candles extinguished, she’s practically vibrating with excitement. 

“My dear,” he says at last, as he watches her shuffling from one foot to the other, “are you going to tell me what has you so agitated?”

She grins and grabs his hand, standing in front of him, and the words burst from her almost immediately.

“It’s me, Zev. I’m the problem.”

He feels his face twist in confusion and sorrow. It’s not hard to deduce what she’s talking about, but he’s not quite sure why that fills her with such glee. 

“Tav… I’m sorry, I-”

She interrupts him with a finger over his lips. “No, no you don't understand. I spoke to Nettie. She says I can have children, I just don't ovulate at regular intervals. She said the reason we've not been able to conceive is because I have a hormone imbalance, not because either of us are sterile.” 

He lets her announcement wash over him. The thought that all of their issues have been poor timing and unfortunate happenstance is… Almost unbelievable. He’d resigned himself so fully to the idea that he was the issue, finding out that isn't the case makes his heart stop in his chest. 

“How do you-”

She interrupts again, “Nettie gave me a brew when I arrived, to balance my hormones. It’s why I stayed in the Grove a few extra days, so she could test them for me. She says everything is as it should be now. She says…” A blush rises over her cheeks, though the ecstatic smile over her features doesn't falter. “She says if we try now she suspects we’ll have no problems.”

He feels his own blush rising to his face, mostly due to the fact that Nettie now knows far more about his sex-life than he’d hoped to share with anyone ever . He opens his mouth to speak but she’s talking again before he can. 

“And, just to be safe, she brewed me a concoction with Mandrake. She said it tastes foul, but that it boosts fertility.” A smirk rises on her face, and she rises on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. Her breath is warm on his ear and he shivers. “I mixed it into my wine.”

The groan he lets out is involuntary, and it resonates low in his chest like a purr. The sudden switch from confused and sad to elated and turned on has his head spinning, and as she walks him backwards towards their bed he feels his cock rush to attention. 

A single hand in the centre of his chest pushes him back and down, and he sits staring at her from the mattress. She takes two steps backwards and slowly begins unbuttoning her blouse. 

“Zev…” His name on her tongue is like honey. He’s certain she does it on purpose and it drives him wild. “I want you to breed me, darling. Want you to fill me with your babies.”

He clenches his jaw and digs his nails into his thighs. He knows exactly what game she’s playing. She loves to unravel his sensibilities until he’s squirming - until he can't help but rut into her like a wild creature. She knows just how to toy with him to bring his infernal heritage to heel til she gets exactly what she wants. 

She chuckles at his reaction, because obviously she does. “You want that, love? Want to mount me and fill me up?”

The noise he makes at that is closer to a growl than anything else, and he nods tensely. She giggles and lets her blouse drop from her shoulders, and hells, of course she isn't wearing a brassiere. The realisation that she’s been planning this, waiting for this, drives him insane. Suddenly the new skirt makes far more sense. It takes all of his restraint to stay seated where he is.  

Tav brushes a thumb over each of her nipples and lets out an exaggerated keen, which has his cock twitching and straining against his trousers. 

“Tav…” He can hear the grumble in his own voice, watches as it washes over her and she shivers. “Come here.”

She shakes her head slowly, a teasing smirk flitting across her face. When she speaks, it's a breath. 

“ Come and get me .”

Every shred of control he has snaps and he’s on her in an instant, pulling her against his body in one long stride. He hikes her legs up around his waist and holds her there, drawing her as close to himself as he possibly can and bringing their lips together in a bruising kiss. She tightens her legs around him and moans into his mouth and, fuck, he wants her so badly. He spins and drops her down onto the bed, and she gasps as she lands on it. 

She looks a picture like this; skirt sitting high on her thighs with her tits hanging heavy on her chest. An image of her sitting like this, round and full with his child, fills his mind. He imagines her breasts full, imagines her body swelling with pregnancy, and Gods if it doesn't make his cock ache. 

“You…” His voice comes out strained, gravelled and thick. “Are such a tease . I try to be polite and you push…” He moves to stand closer, her head level with his stomach. “... and push…” He puts one hand on her shoulder, easing her backwards and hovering above her. Her legs fall open and he stands between them. “... and push …” He rolls his hips against her core and she throws her head backwards with a moan. “... until I can't help but fold you over, hm? Is that what you want, my love? You want me to use your body til you’re good and bred?”

Hells, she’s making so many needy noises and he’s barely touched her yet. She nods hurriedly, wrapping her arms around his neck and leaning up to suck a bruise onto his neck, and fuck he loves when she marks him. He moans and tips his head to give her better access, and he feels Tav smile against his skin as she nibbles at him. 

He slips a hand under her skirt and moans at the realisation that she’s not wearing underclothes either. 

“Hells, Tav, you’re so needy for it. You sat there like this the whole time we ate, desperate for me, hm?”

“ Yes , Zev, Gods . Need you.” Her voice is breathy.

He wants to be teasing, wants to wind her up the way she does to him, but he’s not strong enough. Hearing her beg for him has his face full of heat and has his head swimming. “Can I taste you, love?”

She starts to give her assent, but he’s dropping to his knees before she even finishes getting the words out, lifting her skirt and burying his face in her core. The scent of her drives him wild, and the taste of her musk on his tongue as he drags it through her slick has him moaning into her. Her hands lace into his hair as he sucks her clit between his lips, teasing and tasting her until she’s writhing and keening and cumming into his mouth. 

She drags him back up, kisses him deeply, and the feeling of her tongue massaging against his is so erotic that he can't help grinding against her again. He can feel the wet heat of her cunt leaving a damp patch on the front of his trousers and he knows he can't wait any longer to have her. 

He manages to pry himself away and strips unceremoniously, letting himself languish for a moment in the heated way she stares at his body. The scars and infernal ridges littering his body have always, to him, been unattractive, but she looks at him every time like she can't bear to look away. No one has ever looked at him the way Tav does, and it lights his whole being on fire. 

There's no more conversation needed. He lays himself over her, folds her legs up towards her chest and sinks deep into her heat, and she throws her head back and whines as he fills her. With her legs pushed up like this he can fill her entirely, and the way she clenches around him has him gritting his teeth and grinding deeper into her body. 

“I’ll keep you here all night, if that's what you want, love. Fill you til you’re certain you’ll burst. Can't wait to see you full with my child.”

She tries to reply, but he chooses that moment to fill her with a deep thrust from tip to root, and her eyes roll back into her head as she frees a leg from his grip, digging a heel into his rear and pulling him deeper. With every thrust of his hips she keens, louder and louder until her cries reach a crescendo, and then she’s sobbing her way through her second orgasm and clenching her walls around his cock. 

The wet, tight squeeze of her cunt means it doesn't take long for him to reach his own end, spilling himself inside her just like she asked, kissing her lovingly through it. Every twitch of his cock makes her sigh and clench him harder, milking him of every drop of his cum until he’s laying boneless over her. 

Their heavy breaths mingle together as they share deep, meaningful kisses. When he tries to remove himself from her, she wraps her legs around him and shakes her head. 

“You said you’d keep me here all night. I hope you intend to keep that promise. I want… I want you to stay inside. I want to feel you get hard, and then I want you to fuck me full again.”

And hells, her words have his spent cock twitching valiantly, aching to take her again despite it being too soon, so he tells her yes as he leans in to kiss her again. 

[cheapshrimpysheep]

CONGRATS FOR YOUR MILESTONE!!! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!! And you're one out of the only 5 twst/om writing blogs I have notifs on for, your writing and blog aesthetic makes me so happy!!!

For a request, could you write Kalim sparring with a reader who's a good fighter? It's my personal hc that Kalim can throw a punch of two due to Jamil drilling various self defense techniques into his head. But the whole sparring thing is very lighthearted and fun, since Kalim is not really interested in fighting anyone (especially the person he has a crush on, wink wink 👀) and his fighting partner is not interested in hurting him either. Everything just turns into them being silly and getting into a tickle fight instead or something.

If it's not something in your comfort zone, that's okay! I still wanted to drop by and congratulate you for your hard work. Requests or no requests, writing is content that deserves to be praised and celebrated to thank you! Sorry for the long ask erifidnwyrkd ~ray

COMMENTS: THANK YOU! 💖 I'm always so happy when people tell me they like what I write that much. That's why I love writing this. This is where I feel most appreciated. 🥰

In fact, I am a coward. 😅 So I'm not very familiar with knowing how to fight. But still, I hope I got around it well. As you can see from the number of words, I ended up having fun writing it. I hope you and all have fun reading it too. 😉

CHARACTERS: Kalim Al-Asim x Reader

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.150 words

CONTEXT: Jamil and Kalim used to train from time to time. One way for Jamil to guarantee that, in an emergency, where he wasn't present, Kalim would have any chance of defending himself and escaping or something like that.

But that day, due to some complication at the basketball club, Jamil couldn't train with Kalim. However, he remembers that he already saw you defending yourself against some NRC students, and thinks you might be a good replacement. And maybe, in a way, it would be an interesting idea to have Kalim fight against you, knowing that he has a crush on you.

So, he calls you and asks you for this favor, and assured you that he would somehow repay you.

You arrive in Scarabia, without Grim. He knew that in Scarabia they liked to have banquets from time to time and he loves to eat. But Jamil wasn't there to cook a feast and probably most of the food he would get is the food that Kalim likes to shove down his throat. So he decided he would be better off with just tuna in Ramshackle.

You've just walked through the front door when...

“HIIIIIIII!” Kalim greets you, while running towards you. He has the cutest smile on his face. “How was your day? Do you want to eat anything? Jamil left some really good things in the fridge.”

You tell him that you already ate some time ago, so you would be ready to train with him as soon as you arrived in Scarabia.

“Train? Train what? AH! Is there a test I forgot?!”

You say no and ask if Jamil hadn't told you what he had told you.

“Oh! That. Ha ha HA HA! Sorry, I guess I got so excited when he told me you were coming that I forgot to pay attention to the rest of the conversation. Hum... Don't tell him that, pleeease.”

You promise you won't say anything and he thanks you with an appreciative smile. You remember that Jamil had said that he had left some papers with instructions for training somewhere. When you ask Kalim about this, he doesn't know where they are, but he can guess by knowing Jamil. Or maybe Jamil only knew where to put them because he knew Kalim would forget.

You see the papers and as you would expect, they are all self-defense techniques, where you would be Kalim's aggressor. Techniques for him to defend himself from punches, knives, being grabbed by the arm, neck, etc. You didn't like the idea of even pretending to attack Kalim, but it was the instructions and it was for his own good. Right?

“Can I see the papers?” Kalim asks you when he sees the slight discomfort in your expression. You hand him the papers, he takes a look at them and smiles. “Ah, the same as always. Don't worry, this seems to be just a review. Jamil does this a lot since he says I'm very forgetful. It's okay. Nothing very difficult. You just have to pretend to attack me.” But your discomfort doesn't leave your face. “Hum? What's wrong? You're not feeling well?”

You tell him that you don't want to hurt him and that you don't really like the idea of attacking him, even if it's just pretending.

“I don't want to hurt you either. Not even Jamil, despite what he tells me to do. But we don't need to do this training like the ones I do with Jamil, right? I really hope not, otherwise I'm going to lose all the rounds.” He says with a slightly embarrassed smile. You ask why. “Because like I said, I don't want to hurt you, so I think I'll end up letting you win every time. Ha ha. AH! That's it! Why don't we play fight? Some of my siblings like to do it. We don't need to take this so seriously, we can just have fun. Right? What do you think?”

You think about it and agree. And both of you also agree that it's okay as long as Jamil doesn't get upset. Or finds out.

The "training" started normally. But it was when he got to the part of training to defend himself from knives that Kalim had an idea. He went to get one of those thick markers, took off the cap and said: “You know paintball right? The goal is not to get hit by the paint. Why don't we try to do something like that?” He hands you the marker. He removes his coat and other accessories from his torso until only his white shirt remains. “You're going to try to paint me and I have to dodge it. It'll be fun, you'll see.” he says with a big amused smile.

You ask if he doesn't think Jamil will be upset with him for ruining his shirt.

“Maybe, but don't worry, I can buy lots more where this one came from. Ha ha ha.”

He was right, that was fun. You forgot that you were training self-defence and looked more like a couple playing. At one point, Kalim managed to grab your wrist and steal your marker. And he looked at you with that rare mischievous smile of his. “My turn!”

You seemed surprised. What does he mean his turn? Weren't you the attacker? But then he looks at you and straightens up.

“Oh. You should take off your coat first. I'll get a better see if I catch you with the marker on your white shirt.” You hesitate. You don't have many shirts like that. “If I ruin the shirt I can buy you a new one, or two, or as many as you want. No problem!... Pleeease? I'm having so much fun with you!” He's making puppy eyes.

You agree and take off your coat and accessories. You continue that "training" until there comes a time when both of you have kind of given up on defending yourselves and are already covered in paint streaks on your shirts, arms and even your face. You realize you dropped the marker and can't find it.

“You lose your weapon?” Kalim says “Well, it looks like there's now only one way to find out who wins.” And he attacks you with tickles. “Surrender!”

You try to resist, but end up really surrendering. Kalim was too good at tickling. And as soon as you know it, the two of you were on the floor, practically hugging each other. He smiles affectionately at you.

“I wish you were in Scarabia. We could have fun like this every day. I could see you and be with you every day for much longer.”

Your noses were almost touching when Jamil appears and drops his training bag to make a noise that would get both of your attention. He looked bothered. “WHAT?! Why are you two-? OH, for the patience of the great seven.” he sighs.

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[rubendiasthoughts]

Just so you know, I am not writing about any of his actual ex girlfriends. For the purpose of this story, let's just pretended he dated some sort of an influencer or something like that 😅

Anyways, hope you enjoy! This was written based on an idea sent to me by my lovely Portuguese bestie, so thank you babe ❤

Reader gets angry at Ruben after his ex talks shit on a reality show and Ruben convinces the reader she is the only one he cares about:

You couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach, as you listened to the words leaving the mouth of a woman on your phone screen. You got tagged in that video so many times you finally decided to check what it was about, not expecting it to be a fragment of an interview given by your husband's ex. For your understanding, it was this type of a confession interview that people give on reality shows. Ruben's ex apparently decided to take part in one and she didn't miss the opportunity to bring up his name. The things she was saying making you clench your teeth in anger. She was boasting about a certain famous footballer (not giving a name, but it was so obvious who she meant) who was so head over heels in love with her - she claimed she was the one to break up with him, after he made it clear he wanted to marry her. She was gushing all about how obsessed he was with her, how he told her she was the love of his life and the only one he could ever want, insinuating his relationship with you was only a way for him to try and forget about his ex. Making it seem like you were only a rebound. In the back of your mind you knew that what she said was not true, you knew getting mad about it was stupid, however you couldn't help but feel pure anger.

The jealousy that overtook you making you give a cold shoulder to your husband. He seemed to be extremely confused when he made it back from training that afternoon and you dodged his kiss, without as much as even saying hello to him. He tried to ask you what happened, what was the reason of your unusual behaviour, but you just kept ignoring him. After few failed attempts he decided to give up, to give you some space and come back to the topic later. He decided to mind his own business for a little while, so he occupied himself with some lengthy Netflix show. However, after hours have passed, he couldn't keep acting like nothing has happened, he was determined to make amends with you before the two of you nodded off, not wanting to go to bed angry at each other. He raised himself from the couch and went to find you, he stumbled through the rooms of your house until he finally found you, putting on your complicated skincare routine in front of your bathroom mirror. He leaned against the doorfarme and looked at your reflection in silence, until you realized his presence and your eyes met his in the mirror. For a while neither of you said anything, but it was Ruben who broke the silence.

"Will you tell me what I did to make you so upset?" he asked, but didn't receive any response from you. "C'mon y/n, this is childish. Can't we just talk it out?" irritation was clear in his voice.

"Oh, I am the one who is childish?! Why won't you say that about your ex girlfriend, huh? Is she not childish for going on a fucking reality show, talking all about how she is the one who you really wanted to be with?" you screamed at him, turning on your heel to be able to look at him and crossing your arms on your chest in anger.

Ruben blinked at your words, his brows furrowed as if he was shocked at what you have just said.

"You saw that?" he stuttered after a while of what seemed like him gathering his words.

"How do you expect me not to see it, when it's all everybody is talking about? Do you know how many people tagged me in it, how many people sent that video to me, laughing in my face about how your ex was so much better then me?" your eyes drilling into Ruben, anger and jealousy racing through your veins.

"Baby, please don't listen to any of that, you know it's not true. Please let's just have a calm talk..." he tried to reason with you, but it had quite the opposite effect, his composure pissing you off even more.

"No, I don't want to talk. You know what? Maybe you should just go back to her if she's so great, huh?" you spit out those words before turning back around so that you were facing the mirror again. Just as you were about to start putting your cream on your face again, you felt heat of a body pressing against your back. You looked up and saw the reflection of your husband right behind you, his arms wrapping around you, his head dropping to the crook of your neck and soon you felt his lips tracing your soft skin. He rutted his hips into you, making you very aware of the growing erection hidden in his sweatpants.

"Don't you see what you do to me, baby?" he rasped straight into your ear. "You think I care about anybody else but you?" he mumbled into the skin of your neck, before running his tounge against it. "Gonna let me show you who I belong to, baby?" he asked you, raising his head and looking at you through the mirror. After seeing you nod, his hands worked on the knot of your robe, until ha managed to undo it and slid the silky material down your arms. His hands immediately rested on your hips, pushing you on the counter so that you would lean against it. One of his hands traveled up your back, rested between your shoulder blades and pushed you forward, making you rest your weight on your hands on the countertop and arch your back slightly. He bunched up the material of your night gown over your hips as his lips worked on the sensitive skin of your shoulders and your neck.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful, so perfect for me" he praised you as his fingers hooked under the material of your panties and pulled them down your legs. He only slightly lowered the material of the sweatpants and the boxers that he was wearing, to be able to take out his hard cock. He wrapped his hand around it, giving it few tentative pumps before guiding himself to your entrance.

"Look at me" he ordered, as he teased your already dripping hole with the tip of his cock. "Gonna fuck you dumb, baby, make you forget about all of that bullshit, you understand?" Ruben asked, as he pushed the head of his dick into your thight walls.

You let out a moan, only able to nod your head in response. Ruben's large hands grabbed a thight hold of your hips once again, as he pushed himself deeper inside you, groans leaving his mouth at the feeling of your warm cunt swallowing his length. Your hands gripped the countertop roughly as Ruben set a harsh pace with his deep thrusts. One of his hands left your hip and traveled to the front of your body until it reached your neck. He gripped your throat, squeezing it and making you raise your head up, so that you could watch what he was doing to you in the mirror.

"Look how well we fit together, pretty girl. It's like you were made for me." he groaned right next to the shell of your ear, making you let out another shaky moan. He added more pressure to your throat, while his hips were slamming into yours in a brutal pace. "Fuck, you're so thight, best pussy I've ever had, you heard me?" Ruben asked you through gritted teeth.

Your throat was dry, the pleasure running through you so overwhelming, you felt like you wouldn't be able to let out a word if you tried, so you opted for an eager nod of your head. However, Ruben wasn't having any of that, as he let go of your neck and grabbed a fistful of your hair, making your head tilt back.

"Asked you a question angel, I need to hear words" he reminded you in a raspy voice, before attaching his lips to the skin of your exposed neck.

"Yes... Yes, Ruben" you let out in between the shameless moans that were escaping your mouth. Your eyes shut closed at the feeling of his teeth digging into the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

"That's my good girl." a smirk spread on his face at the feeling of your walls clenching around his cock. "You gonna cum for me, baby?" he asked, his fast and deep strokes inside of you not letting up.

"Yes... Please, don't stop" you begged, feeling tingles spread in your tummy, a sign of your orgasm approaching.

"Go on baby, squeeze my cock like a good girl" Ruben encouraged you, his eyes glued to your reflection, as he admired your face scrunched up from the pleasure he was giving you. "Gonna cum deep inside you, show you who I belong to" he groaned, as your orgasm washed through you, him following you soon, emptying his load inside of you.

After the two of you came down from your highs, Ruben slowly pulled out of you, letting out a hiss. He turned you around in his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple before putting you up on the counter. He fixed his sweatpants and went to find a cloth to clean you up, returning to your side in a matter of few seconds.

"You are the only one for me" he whispered against your lips, before capturing them in a sweet kiss. A feeling of ease washed through you at his reassurance and you rested your head against his chest when he broke the kiss. Ruben's chest filled with ease, knowing that the two of you were okay again.

[boba-beom]

All your posts are making me like 🫠 I think I reblogged all three keke

I need to shout about this... In the Miracle tiktok where Taehyun is dancing while SoobKai film with ILLIT... I don't know if he's eating or chewing gum but it looks like he's chewing gum and why is it so attractive to me. Now I've combined this with basketball Taehyun, thinking how hot it would be to watch him doing a solo practice, shooting and doing dribbling drills while casually making conversation with you, chewing gum the whole time. Am I crazy? Maybe, because before now, I'd probably say gum is gross.

WAIT but now I'm imagining this scenario is the first time you hang out after he sees you fraternising with the enemy (Yeonjun) and he's trying to act like it doesn't bother him that you gave him your number, only that you were clapping for the wrong team OKAY stop me and my imagination 😅 I love Taehyun

and I love you, so glad to see you're still around 💕

CEE I love you too! and I'm happy to see you around also <3 you have no idea how much I've been giggling to myself from your tags hehe :> thank you for the rbs and reading your reactions were fun too 🤭 and you saying that I make sport-centric fics fun for you to read is truly a huge compliment to me omg, I always get nervous because I'm not 100% sure about what I'm writing most of the time, so thank you ilysm 🫶🏼

ALSO reading this made my jaw drop because you're literally onto something with that omg. I noticed that too during soogyu's tiktok with ILLIT— it's the way taehyun does it so nonchalantly with the subtle chewing and it is kinda hot. I used to find people who do that quite obnoxious lmao, but like I can't stand if they're really smacking their gum, ygm? ANYWAY—

jealous bsf!taehyun x gn!reader, dialogue heavy

okay so, the first time you and taehyun hang out after the game is a couple of days later. he'd agreed to hang out with you at the park since you both had checked the weather in advance; it was sunnier than usual. you both decided to meet each other at your regular spot and you're not surprised to find taehyun already there, sitting on the grass and on his phone. usually he'd notice you when you walk up behind him, but it was almost like he'd purposely ignored you and waiting until you had to announce that you were there.

"tyun?" you sit beside him slowly leaning in to give him a usual hug when you greet each other but he gave you a lazy side hug. damn. "been waiting long?"

"no."

that's all you get? he pockets his phone, palms against the grass as he leans back chewing his gum nonchalantly and looking at the busy field in front of you. there seems to be a group of high schoolers training for soccer.

"um, are we good?" you ask quietly, heart pounding in your chest and a little afraid for the first time in forever.

he hums, eyes focused on the ball being passed from player to player.

"yeah, why wouldn't we?" his voice monotone but knowing taehyun, that was normal. "how's yeonjun. are you guys like text buddies now or something?"

now that wasn't what you were expecting. well shit. taehyun's mad and you don't know if that's all he has to say about it.

"no, tyun. he didn't even call me so I don't even have his number. I'm assuming he's busy is all. I wasn't really expecting much." you nudge his shoulder playfully, craning your neck in attempt to be in his visual field, but to no avail, his vision doesn't budge. you sit back in your original position, also watching the ball from afar. "does it bother you?"

you best friend scoffs, apparently he finds something humorous that you possibly missed.

"it doesn't. why'd you even talk to that guy anyway, you know he just does that to boost his ego because he lost the game." taehyun finally turns his head to look at you and you look at him within a fraction of a second, eyes holding eye contact for the first time that day.

"I'm sure he had good intentions-"

"good intentions." taehyun scoffs again, almost chuckles after he repeats it again. "that guy never has good intentions, ___. and I thought you were there to support me, then I catch you clapping for his three pointer."

your stomach churns a little from the guilt. you didn't know he saw that. and what do you even say? you thought it was impressive? you had a feeling yeonjun shot that shot for you?

"don't even try and think of some lame ass excuse because you know damn well I can tell when you're not telling me the truth." his voice assertive but his gaze on you softens, wanting you to be comfortable with him like you usually are.

you let out a deep sigh.

"he looked at me before that moment and I assumed he did that to impress me..." your voice trails off, trying to look at taehyun through your peripheral, not wanting to look at him directly. "I don't know tyun, he seemed pretty genuine and he's kinda cute too."

after explaining as honestly as you could, the air was filled with a short silence between the both of you and distant shouting and birds flying by.

"I can be kinda cute too." taehyun grumbles under his breath and you swear it wasn't some sort of auditory hallucination. that is what you heard, right?

"hm?" you turn to him, tilting your head to the side waiting for him to hopefully repeat himself.

"why'd you want him when I've been here all this time." his rhetorical reply left you blinking a couple of times, processing what exactly he's inferring. "in short, you have me. and I have you."

your chest starts heaving slowly. taehyun, your best friend, really said that. his fingers gently caresses yours, also supporting your weight on the grass while you both lean back.

the train of thought in your discombobulated mind is disrupted by him calling your name, now in a softer tone.

"so, what do you say? I'm willing to risk this friendship and try something more with you, ___. if you let me."

his says his confession, almost as if he's been yearning for you to be his for a while, but is it wrong that you still can't stop thinking about yeonjun?

"taehyun," you sit upright, holding his hand in yours. "I'm going to be honest with you, but promise me don't get mad."

the hope in taehyuns eyes disappears, feeling his heart sink to his stomach ready for your rejection. he nods.

"I love you, and always have, but that's because you're my best friend. and at the moment, yeonjun left quite the impression on me so he's still on my mind, but there's nothing much that helps him in his favour."

"so what you're saying is?" your fingers interlock with his, your thumb rubbing the back of his.

"is that I'm willing to try this with you, because, unlike you," you tease, "I like to give people chances."

you prod at his side as he exhales and rolls his eyes playfully.

"I couldn't risk you being whisked away before I even made a move on you." taehyun defends himself the best he could.

"no but really, from time to time I have felt like I've loved you more than a friend. so that's why I want to try, but can we take it slow?"

"yeah, of course. I'll just have to push yeonjun out your thoughts first." his comment makes you laugh.

taehyun's singular dimpled smile returns and it's contagious, he has you smiling back at him too. you didn't realise when you two ended up sitting closer to each other to close the gap, but you took the opportunity to lean your head on his shoulder.

"and you are kinda cute."

© BOBA-BEOM ; all rights reserved. do not repost, copy, alter or translate in any way or platform.

[bibbykins]

Moonlight Reign Ch.1

A/N: Instead of forcing myself to focus on one series at a time, I'm planning to write what sparks joy to write in the moment and post it as I go! Hopefully this will clear some wips and help me feel less disorganized lmao! Not to say I'm not working on THB, I def am I just want to have something to post as I work on THB and the bigger projects like the LWAB fics among other things! So (hopefully) I'll keep these chapters limited to 5-7k, but we'll see lol pls enjoy and send me asks I thrive on them and so does my motivation!

And a huge thank you to my wonderful B @rapline-heaux for beta-reading ily!!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yandere! Mafia! BTS x Reader

Words: 5.7k

Warnings: crime, sensory flashbacks, trauma, unhealthy relationships, yandere behavior not rlly in this part but soon, pining, violence, past abuse, past neglect, academic neglect, stitches, drunk Jungkook, tackling, pinning someone down, mention of open relationship, poly is the norm is this au

“It’s time to go now.” 

1, 2, 3, 4

“Five years after the fall of the underground power family, Moon Corporation, people still suspect an even more powerful company has taken their place since…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“It’s… so red…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“The exposure beheld more answers than questions, but on the five-year anniversary of the suicidal explosion that killed the head, Moon Byungyeol and his daughter, the elusive green-haired girl who was 18 at the time, colleagues mourn in secret and establishments fear an anniversary heist or something worst than last year as the date rapidly approaches…”

1, 2, 3, 4

“Locals have several theories on the big conglomerate that now controls Seoul’s business, underground and above, with the mafia organizations and gangs running rampant, people fear the government is under their thumb as well…”

1, 2- SHUT UP

You inhaled deeply as if just surfacing from the drowning body of water residing in your brain. Your fingers stilled from the tapping, a  desperate attempt to make you surface, a sorry technique your brief stint in therapy drilled into you. Maybe having nothing led to illogical personal connections with a number. Of all your training as an heir, it was the mundane basic curriculum lessons that fascinated you the most. You were never good at math, but you loved to be perplexed by the numbers. It was a humbling experience, and in your fruitless calculations, four was always the easiest to wrap your head around. Of course, you didn’t know how humbled you’d be until you were a 20 year old trying to figure out how to do middle school math. Your education left much to be desired growing up, but you still enjoyed learning. 

You used to be convinced four was too perfect of a number for such an ugly world, and though you let go of the notion with your past life, it didn’t change that it was a world you had to feign blind to now. In your youth, four was a beautiful result of a simple equation, a funny origin to big numbers. It was a warm hug among the violent reactions when you’d get questions far below your intended grade level wrong. In a world where stuffed animals were banned from your childhood room, the number four was all you had. You didn’t particularly like how pathetic that made you feel, but it didn’t change how much it helped you on days like these.

Your palms retracted from their firm placement on the wall you leaned on, relaxing you. Releasing your slightly curled fingers, you stifled a bitter laugh at the desperate attempt to grasp onto something. It was always so degrading to scrub off the marks your acrylics made along the wall, but the stiletto nails made taps loud enough to bring you back. It was an absolute mystery how the school you worked at let you get away with these. 

Your little episode was finished as you settled your mind with the news continuing to drone on. You massaged your jaw, sore from the subconscious clench you were cursed with. You blew out a sigh as you felt your face and nodded when no tears were felt. Your phone buzzed, alerting you to the time and you groaned. Your damn neighbor would be here any minute now.

Jungkook wasn’t a mean guy by any means, quite the opposite. He was extremely insistent on your well-being, so much so it bordered on doting, and such behavior made you clam up. You didn’t know how to respond to his fussing over you. Hell, you didn’t know how to respond to most interactions outside of your old family business for a long while. That was just one of the many things he taught you, and he never once lost his cool doing so. He was patient with you, and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. 

You both had been in the same class when you attended university, and while you were fine with letting your temporary acquaintanceship go no further than asking for notes or the occasional study session, he was a force to be reckoned with. You just kept running into him and when you moved here and found he was your next-door neighbor, you knew there was no getting out of it. He was going to be your friend. Although, you never understood why he wanted to be so bad. 

Cut to a whole year after you both graduated, and it still didn’t make any sense. You both were polar opposites in a lot of ways. He was the regular party boy always at clubs and coming home at ungodly hours of the night. Meanwhile, you were usually in bed by 11:00 pm and only left your apartment for the job that barely covered your rent. Needless to say, you weren't exactly a social butterfly, so if you found one friend in Jungkook, you figured it wouldn't be such a crime.

However, having Jungkook as a friend meant having a weekly dinner with him as he mooched off of your TV and you mooched off of the food he paid for. It was an even enough exchange. Plus, it was nice to talk freely, or well, as free as you've ever been able to, even if just for a little bit.

You faced the mirror, patting down your hair, thankful for how much healthier it was without the cheap dye job you had done yourself when you were 14, “That green didn’t suit me at all,” You mused, fixing your hair, “Plus it nearly ruined my hair.” You murmured to no one in particular, keeping track of your speeding thoughts as you settled back into Earth. 

Jungkook knocked on the door and you nodded to yourself, “It’s open!” You called and sat down at the table as he walked in, take-away bags in his hands.

“You really shouldn’t leave your door open like that, you know.” He tsked like he always did. It just made sense to leave it unlocked when you knew he was coming, especially if you needed to run to the bathroom so you could finish crying before facing him. Of course, you haven't had to do that in a while, but better safe than sorry. Your issues, for lack of better term, were no secret to Jungkook, and you both knew it, but you liked to avoid having him see you at your most vulnerable when you could help it.

You simply shrugged as you helped him unpack the food, “We’re the only ones on the top floor.” You reminded him, “it would be quite silly of a criminal to come all the way up to the 20th floor.” You chided.

“Still.” He tried to argue but quickly gave up. Jungkook knew by now that you could take care of yourself, but sometimes you wished you’d let him do it for you more often. However, he let this potential argument go, this time. He looked around and narrowed his gaze at the TV, “Why do you still have the news on?” 

You paused and looked up from your food as it prattled on about your family, “I guess I forgot,” You forced your casual tone, “Did you get-”

“Syndicates, huh…?” He echoed the news reporter’s words, eyes fixated on the screen with a curious look, “The news is so weird with this stuff.”

The chopsticks in your hand stilled. You wanted to say that the syndicates were even weirder since they were the ones that probably signed off on the script. As a little girl, that was the first thing you had learned, how to play chess outside on a park bench, how to play chess crushing people in your hands as you moved them. It had all been the same to you for far too long. 

“Like I care, it’s just background noise.” A lie, you hated lying, but it was something you had to get used to doing for the sake of your safety.

“You aren't scared of these guys at all?” Jungkook looked at you like you were crazy, although his eyes didn't match the rest of his face's intensity.

Shaking off the weird notion, you rolled your eyes, “A world without you buying me dinner is pretty spooky but that,” You gestured to the TV, “Is a cheap haunted house in comparison to the hell of making dinner or worse, ordering it myself, on a Friday night.” You giggled.

Jungkook rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Is that all I am to you? A sugar daddy?” He asked in mock offense and you nearly spit out your drink.

You swallowed roughly before glaring at him as he laughed, “If you’re my sugar daddy, I need a new one.” You retorted and his laugh died while a childish pout settled on his face, “I mean, all I get is a measly dinner once a week and I still have to work and pay my bills?” 

“Well, what do I get, huh?” He crossed his arms, and it made you chuckle. Laughter had never come easy to you growing up, and it still had a hard time coming to you but after years by Jungkook’s side it was easier than ever to do, “Where’s my sugar?” He thrusted his cheek toward you, tapping on it with his index finger.

You rolled your eyes in spite of the flutter in the pit of your stomach and pushed his face away with your index finger, “My presence is your sugar, dummy.” You teased and how easy it was to be human around him made you smile wider, “Plus I let you watch your silly little shirtless men.” 

He clicked his tongue, “First of all, if you’re going to call them shirtless men, at least call them hot because look at him.” He pressed a button on your remote and his favorite fighter, Park Jimin filled the screen, “Second of all, it’s literally fewer syllables to just say MMA fights.”

You took a bite of your food and shrugged, “Don’t you have, like, a million boyfriends? Wouldn’t you make them jealous drooling all over Jimin?” You challenged, vaguely remembering Jungkook saying he had more than three boyfriends at some point. Not that it was surprising, most people had at least two significant others. Unless they were you, of course. You had no one to talk to but the man sitting in front of you, forget about a significant other. “He would make me pretty damn insecure.” You chuckled.

Jungkook scrunched his brows at you, “Six.” He corrected, mirth filling his eyes already.

You looked from the TV to him, “Hm?” You tilted your head to the side.

“I have six boyfriends, thank you very much.” He stated matter-of-factly, and you rolled your eyes at his tone, “Why? Are you trying to give me seven significant others?” He feigned a scandalous gasp, “Well, the relationship is open, you know, so I guess I could pencil you in–” You cut him off by shoving a piece of chicken in his mouth with a glare. The teasing made your chest seize for a split moment when faced with his teasing smirk, so this had been the best way to shut him up. 

Jungkook had always been a flirt, he often relished in teasing you to see how embarrassed you would get. Thankfully, over the years you had gotten used to it. You had already known his relationship was open since he mentioned how often they’re all apart, but you didn’t care to entertain that kind of intimacy with Jungkook even in your thoughts these days. It was just better that way.

“Ha, ha, we got a comedian.” You deadpanned and before you could say anything else, something on the screen caught your eyes, “What the fuck?” You mumbled.

“What?” Jungkook inquired as he looked at the TV, swallowing the food you fed him.

The camera had panned over the crowd and over an eerily familiar face poorly covered with sunglasses. The etching of a scar peeking out of the cheap frames told you all you needed, though. That was your uncle. 

What the hell was he doing showing his face? Let alone this close to the five-year anniversary of everything. The new syndicate in charge took great joy in celebrating the fall of your family, no doubt they’re itching for someone to make an example of someone. Worry tried to leak its way into your veins, but you fought it. Why should you care about him? If he wanted to sign his death certificate, that was on him.

Still, the sight of a man you were almost positive you’d never see again made you feel uneasy. You’d acclimated to regular life quite well, so one of the few remnants of your past life appearing like a ghost was ominous. In spite of your unease, you couldn’t look away. Almost as if you were waiting for him to poof away. You kinda wished he would. 

The camera changed and you finally blinked.

“N-Nothing.” You finally said, shaking your head, “I just thought I recognized someone, that’s all.” Your hands trembled for the briefest of moments as you lifted food to your mouth.

“Oh really, who?” Your only friend asked curiously and you shrugged as you chewed.

“Just some teacher that called in today.” You lied and it made your food taste sour for a moment. It was for the best you lied, you had to keep reminding yourself of that. 

“Hell, I’d call in too if it meant I could see the fight live.” You were thankful Jungkook dropped the topic and let your shoulders relax. You shouldn’t feel bad for lying, really. An unspoken rule between you both was that you never pried about private details. Jungkook led his life and you led yours. Hell, you don’t even know what he does for a living, but it wouldn’t surprise you if it was living off of his boyfriends’ income. Not to mention you didn’t even know if he lived with anyone else next door or if that was just a place of his own to use on occasions. Though, you couldn’t help being a little jealous at the idea of being so pampered. 

“Yeah, I could go for a silly little shirtless man fight on occasion.” You shrugged with a cheeky grin. 

“Silly?!” Jungkook guffawed, “I’ll have you know if he wins this fight, he’ll qualify for the championship, so this is pretty high stakes.” He toted his knowledge of the sport.

“Hasn’t he already been champion like a few times now?” You asked, barely following.

“Yeah, but, he’s been off his game this season for… personal reasons, so he’s never been this close to not qualifying.” He admitted, and your brows scrunched at the melancholy in his eyes. 

“Damn.” You mustered, “How do you know all this?” You asked, genuine curiosity lighting your eyes.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s cheeks reddened as he tore his eyes from you, “Interviews and stuff, you know.” He waved his hand dismissively and you rolled your eyes. 

“Nothing wrong with being a fanboy.” You chided, “I’m certainly in no place to judge.” You offered, reminding him of your fixation on TV dramas, making him snort before you both honed in on the TV.

These fights were quite fascinating and allowed you to at least tap into some of your training. It was how you knew that Jimin was going to win this fight from the first calculated punch, his form was immaculate and instead of going for the face, he drove his fist into his opponent’s ear. It was a dirty trick, but it was more than enough to give him an opening. 

“Holy shit, I think he might win this.” The fanboy across from you breathed. 

“No way he isn’t going to win.” You confirmed.

“Don’t get my hopes too far up.” He all but squeaked out, basically on the edge of his seat.

After a couple of rounds and idle chitchat, the fight ended with Jimin as the victor. You clapped lightly, but Jungkook was so elated he hugged you as he let out a celebratory roar. The first couple of times he did this shocked you so bad your hands almost went to snap his neck. Now that you were both years into the friendship though, the gesture just made you chuckle. Soon after, just like it did every match, Jungkook’s phone vibrated and he had to leave. He always left you with some kind of affection and this time it was a kiss on the cheek, a rare one, but not a huge step from the common forehead kisses he gave you.

“Don’t drink too much.” You warned and he flashed you a cheeky smile, “At least don’t get into trouble.”

“We’ll see.” He chuckled,  and you rolled your eyes.

“Well then don’t make it my problem!” You yelled and he waved a hand as he closed your door behind him. 

—

“Father?” You whimpered as a strong hand patted your head to calm you, or soften the blow of what was to come, you couldn’t quite tell, “Tell me you didn't.” Your voice was in shambles as you trembled beneath his palm.

The news mocked you as panic took a hold of your body, shaking it out of the shred of blissful ignorance you had clung onto. Ever since your father took you in, you had many responsibilities, but the comfort of not needing to keep up with the public facade kept you going. You hated the public, all the pleasantries, and honeyed words. None of it made sense, and now, now you felt foolish for not involving yourself more. For not ensuring that something like this could never happen and crumble the only world you’ve known. 

Still, even as despair monopolized your nerves, a tear wouldn’t fall. You weren’t sure if you knew how to shed them, but you knew it would only piss off your father. 

Moon Byungyeol was a rough man and calling him father teetered between feeling genuine and like a formality. He was a boss first, but sometimes he wore the mask of a dad. Sometimes, but it was enough times with enough gusto that you couldn’t tell which side of him best represented his true self– or if he even had a truthful bone within himself. 

He may have been rough, but he was all you had. He and the family he brought you into had been your first priority all your life, even when you had never really been his priority at all.

Not unless you could be used as currency. 

“Y/n, it's time for us to go,” His voice was somber, but even. You’d never seen him so outwardly upset, but even so, he didn’t so much as let his eyes water as his life’s work shattered before his eyes. He was left with a subdued longing as he looked at the TV, melancholic defeat infecting his usually strong posture, “I let this greed consume me, and I'm afraid it's begun eating not just me alive now.” He admitted and it made you feel ill. 

“...such evidence is linking the Moon Corporation to heinous organized crime activities painting them as a possible syndicate, but no arrests have been made nor has a formal criminal investigation on Moon Byungyeol himself been launched, but many workers under the company are being investigated due to possible involvement…”

Everything was dying. The realization that everything you did, all the lives you took, all the training you had suffered through, had never been for some prosperous empire you were promised. All of it had been to supply the lining of your father’s and uncle’s pockets. You should’ve been angry, shocked, or even appalled, but you weren't. You were numb to the fact that you were raised on lies. Fear resided in your veins about what that meant for you. 

“If I just cash out and retire, we could never live in peace,” He shook his head as he switched off the TV before he placed his hands on your shoulder, catching your attention, “But Uncle Byungjoo has a plan that I think might just work.” You swallowed hard at this. Anything Byungjoo could think seldom meant good things for you. On your best days with him, you were a mere afterthought, but on the worst days– most days– you were–”The only thing is that you and I will have to… separate…”

He was going to abandon it. No, he was going to abandon you. The only thing more pitiful than your fear had to be your shock. What reason did you truly have to be surprised that he was throwing you away just as easily as he picked you? He was going to cash out one last time, and leave like this whole operation meant nothing to him. All the while you had put an inkling of faith in his heart to love this empire, like a fool. At the very least, it was the closest thing to love that you knew. This entire place was all you knew. When was the last time you had gone out on your own as anything but his daughter?

“But…” Your mouth was woefully dry, “The empire, just like you said, it’s-”

“We were never an empire,” His self-loathing clung to each word and disgust curled in your stomach as you looked at his solemn face, “I treated this organization as a bank, a money maker, it was inevitable that the paper I cradled would catch fire.” The roundabout way he was speaking began to grate at your nerve. The pseudo-poeticism of his words did nothing to save his dignity, but you didn’t tell him that. 

You didn't scream, yell, or cry. 

At least you hadn't, yet.

“Then who will rule Seoul?” You wondered aloud.

“That’s not my problem anymore.” He said as if it were the easiest thing to come to terms with.

“Who will stay with me?” You asked meekly, immediately regretting it as you watched his previous words dance on his lips before he decided against it.

He smiled warmly at you and it brought a chill down your spine, “Some of us are meant to be alone.” He patted your shoulder and you wanted so badly to break into pieces from the impact. 

No one would stay with you. Not him, not anyone, and he didn't care.

That wasn't the answer you had hoped for. You hung your head in shame, shame that you expected anything other than a cold answer from a man on fire. The request for him to just kill you was on the time of your tongue before he turned around, ready to attend his last hurrah.

////

You woke up with a start from a bang outside, but considering the fact that it was 4 am, you chalked it up to city noise. Now awake, you stared at the ceiling and blew out an annoyed sigh. You were constantly plagued with flashbacks both in and out of your dreams, and you wished the rancid memories would choose one state of consciousness to haunt you in. Your therapist a couple of years back told you it's normal for people who have gone through what you have to constantly see what you were then in trying to dissect where you are now. Essentially, it was a constant cloud that hung over your head, and no matter how far you removed yourself from that life, its consequences would stay etched into your skin.

Another bang sounded outside your window and you grimaced. Anniversary week was beginning, and you felt more on edge than usual.

Five years ago exactly, you saw the match light. In four days, it will have officially been five years since you saw the flames engulf your home, your family, and everything you were. Each year, this week was chaos for the city of Seoul. Each day was accompanied by an event that slowly grew more and more above ground. It was almost mocking the past, the surfacing of dirty secrets. Secrets the world knew, but never wanted to see, cowards.

The new syndicate at the top of the kingdom was known as Bangtan to the underground scene, but with a “Group” tacked on after the ominous name, they were also the kings of the business world. They were much better at actually hiding their identities, hence why most average people assumed there was no such syndicate anymore or that the “law” took care of it. As if the “law” wasn’t under the thumb of the kings. 

Even so, your information could very well be outdated. The whispers from the underground, also known as the Underworld or even more to the point, Hell, reached your ears less and less as you removed yourself from the lives of anyone who knew who you were. No longer working at the diner your previous nanny ran shut you off from the underground so much so you seldom became aware of Anniversary Week’s events until two days before the main event. 

Another bang, but this time on your door, startled you out of your thoughts, “I can’t believe you went to the bar on a day like today- where are your keys?!” An unfamiliar voice spoke through your door.

“Ask, y/n,” Jungkook’s slurred voice rang out in a yell as you flinched at the volume, “Y/n! I need stitches!” 

This wasn't the first time Jungkook was yelling outside your door, demanding your assistance. This was just another facet of your friendship that you both silently agreed was fine. You never really asked questions, you just patched him up and left him on your couch. It really wasn't any of your business, nor did you have any desire for it to be. Jungkook was an MMA fan, and you knew he was big on that scene and the fitness scene, so it just made sense he would get into fights. You could only hope these fights were agreed upon prior to alcohol, but you weren't naive enough to actually assume that was the case.

“This isn’t even your door, baby, come on.” The voice grunted and your attention peaked. You had encountered a few men trying to help Jungkook home, but you seldom got such an obvious confirmation of their relationship with him, “What? Are you trying to booty call your neighbor?” The unknown man teased and you rolled your eyes. Were they all like this?

“I wish!” Jungkook shouted in response and you were fine with leaving your door closed this time until he spoke, “Ew, I’m dripping on the doormat.”

This made you huff as you hopped out of bed in your large t-shirt and shorts and ripped the door open. You were faced with a man with perfectly styled black hair in a three-piece suit accompanied by a trashed Jungkook with a short, but deep, cut on the corner of his forehead. The man that looked a few years older than you and Jungkook stopped struggling with your neighbor as he looked at you with the most pristine and exasperated face.Everything about this man was polished. Even as your neighbor lazily draped around the man, his suit had barely begun to wrinkle. 

Meanwhile, he looked you up and down with contempt before sighing, “Look, just forget we were-”

“Y/n!” Jungkook cheered before he passed out.

“No booty calls here, sorry.” You remarked flatly, “He usually keeps his keys in his wallet for some reason.” You nodded to his pocket before you looked at his forehead again, “But he does need stitches.” You opened your door a little more, gesturing for them to come in.

The man narrowed his eyes at you, “Do you usually play nurse for him?” You bit your tongue and swallowed his condescending tone with a sigh. You couldn’t tell if he was jealous at the thought of his boyfriend having some neighbor who treats his wounds in the dead of night or if he simply didn’t like you. Although looking at his face, there was no way this man was jealous of you. His gaze was sharp nonetheless, sharp and vaguely familiar, but his eyes held no recognition for you, so you let it go.

“Only when his blood is dripping on my doormat, for the third time this month,” You pointed to the sullied mat that you had just cleaned fully this week, “Bring him in, this isn’t that uncommon-” 

“But-” He tried to object, noticeably a little clammy at the unspoken knowledge of their relationship. 

“Any more blood on that mat and I'm making you pay for it, now come on,” You snapped as he walked in and sat Jungkook in a chair around your table. You shut the door as you pulled your first aid kit out, “You have to sit him on the floor or the couch.”

He complied to the couch, and though he didn’t say anything, you could see the question floating around his mind.

“When he wakes up, he attacks whoever is in front of him,” You spoke, preparing the needle and thread, and you had to ignore the curiosity peaking within you when you saw the other man shift uncomfortably at your comment,  “And I can't stitch and hold him down at the table,” You explained, settling your knees to lock on both sides of Jungkook’s legs and your elbows pressing on his shoulders.

“Aren't you scared he'll hurt you?” The man asked as you began stitching.

You scoffed, “I can play scared if that's what you want, but certainly not for free.” You chuckled, but he remained straight-faced. Tough crowd. You worked very hard to develop your banter skills these past five years, but he paid them no mind making your smile drop. 

Eventually, you just went on stitching in silence until the man broke the silence, “Who are you?” The man spoke mid-way through your stitching.

You paused for a moment, “Didn't you hear Jungkook? I’m y/n, and who are you?”

“None of your concern,” He clipped.

You snorted a chuckle, “You're bleeding on my hardwood floor, that has me pretty concerned.” You gestured to your hand to show him the small cut on his and he slowly grabbed a napkin to press against his hand with his mouth in a thin line, “Concerned for my floor I mean.” You clarified, “But a word of advice? If you don’t want to be suspicious of you, don’t act suspicious.” 

He sighed, “My name is Namjoon-”

You were tying the final knot when Jungkook snapped his eyes open, “Shit.” Was all you were able to get out. He immediately dove at you, pushing you to the floor, making the needle in your hand scratch your forearm before you threw it across the room to avoid the tempting notion of stabbing him with it. You sucked in a breath through your teeth at the burning sensation while you struggled to shake him out of it. 

It didn’t take a genius to deduce why Jungkook’s fight or flight was so concentrated, he’d obviously grown up with a reason to be. Nevertheless, it has never been your place to pry or judge, if anything, it’d be quite hypocritical. He'd seen you in a less-than-ideal mental state plenty of times, to put it lightly. Plus, you knew he didn’t mean any harm, and he was always pretty apologetic after the fact. Although, you were sure the struggle looked pretty concerning as you saw Namjoon scramble to his feet. 

Namjoon was trying to find an opening to cut in between the battle as Jungkook was sloppily throwing his fist down and you were moving your head to dodge each blow. Though his moves were sloppy, they were still fast and you could only dodge for so long. With no other option left, you sighed before slamming your forehead on his fresh stitches to make him stop to register the pain. You took advantage of the opening as you effortlessly pinned his arms down with your knees planted on his upper arms, “Jungkook!” You snapped as Namjoon watched his younger friend finally recognize you in his drunken haze.

“Y-Y/n?” He questioned, his tongue thick in his mouth, “You hurt my head- hey, you’re bleeding on my shirt!”

Your arm had a scratch about half the length of your forearm, it was shallow and oozing blood, but you didn’t flinch, “Wonder who made me hurt both my arm and their head, dumbass,” You muttered, examining his stitches to make sure the impact didn’t affect the new suture, “And you got your blood on my doormat and my forehead, so let’s call it a draw.” You grunted as you fixed the suture.

The sight of someone towering over his boyfriend after headbutting them made Namjoon on edge. Jungkook talked for days and days about how much he loved spending time with his neighbor, but something was… off about you. Why would a school nurse be that skilled in combat? Jungkook was a ruthless fighter and you hardly flinched. 

This string of thoughts prompted his mistake of grasping your wounded forearm to make you stand so he could properly question you. What he didn’t calculate in that movement was the fact that he grasped your fresh cut, which hurt like a bitch. This pain made you bring your other forearm to his neck, pressing firmly into his trachea as his back hit the wall with a bang. You both looked at each other in surprise at your reflex. You gasped softly before releasing him, “Don’t ever manhandle a lady, Namjoon,” You mumbled as you brought distance between the two of you, “I don’t do well being frightened.”

Namjoon regained his composure, impressed by your reaction time and ability to weaken his pride in such a short matter of seconds, “Who are you?” His tone was rougher in comparison to when he first asked the question.

“None of your concern,” You mocked his voice cartoonishly, becoming more and more irritated with his line of questioning, “Now take him, an alcohol pad, and go.” You hissed, unceremoniously tossing the package at him.

He gave you a sharp glare but complied, hauling Jungkook over his shoulder and leaving.  The door shut and you let a relieved sigh escape you. You shut your eyes tightly, frustrated that you let your instincts take over like that. Namjoon was undoubtedly suspicious and that’s the last thing you needed. You opened your eyes and caught sight of the clock nearing 5 am, and it was a Saturday now, so you were going to sleep in as much as you could.

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Masterlist

[anisespice]

“ dumb love ” || hq!

synopsis: the usual stoic and unbothered being absolutely lovestruck for their s/o.

pairing: various x gn!reader [ iwa, sakusa, kags ]

warnings: sfw, mature language, my attempt at writing something cute lol 

notes: so this idea struck me in the middle of the night while i was listening to music, and sean kingston’s “dumb love” came on and IMMEDIATELY i was like “hells yeah” -  figured i’d throw something together, so this isn’t really proofread either ALSKDJAJS but hope u enjoy! 

iwaizumi ッ

When it came down to it, Iwaizumi had excellent control over his emotions. Spending years dealing with the shittiest, pretty boy known to man to then later on have to wrangle up various grown men for intense training, and make sure they’re actually doing the shit right, Iwa would confidently say he had the nerves of steel. 

Until you skipped your happy ass into his life.

Now, anytime you even crossed his mind, this man wouldn’t be able to hold back a goofy-ass grin. There was just something about you that drove him absolutely insane, got him feeling like a dopey fool that can’t even look you in the eye, even when you got on his last nerve sometimes. You gazed at him as if he’d created mountains and moved rivers with his bare hands, or literally like he’s the only person in your world.

But, hey, no shame innit. He be looking at you the same way. No matter how embarrassed he’d get when caught slippin’.

“Iwa-chan~! Quit ogling [______] already, you haven’t blinked for a whole minute!”

“Fuck off, Shittykawa.”

sakusa ッ

He barely tolerated people as a whole. Sure, he’d gotten better compared to his high school days, but there was still a little pushback that lingered in the outside hitter. He didn’t like to mingle, never favored gatherings that had too many people, nor did he like meaningless small talk. So imagine his absolute dread when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder while in line at a coffee shop.

He stiffened instantly; touch from strangers still something he was getting used to. At least he wore a jacket to shield him from the actual contact. But, that’s not all he was worried about. You tapped him again, this time with a little more urgency. Sakusa exhaled heavily—It was too damn early for this. He turned thinking that you were just a fan or something, already prepared to give a rehearsed response that his publicists drilled into his head for moments like this. Because, y’know, this was about to be just another boring, pointless-

“Hey, so who d’you think would win in a fight: a bear with no arms and legs, or a blind tiger with no teeth?”                      WHAT.

He thinks back to that at least once a day, very fond of the memory. Even six months later of dating, he can’t believe how things turned out this way. Sakusa didn’t know what possessed him to not just ignore you, but he was glad he entertained your unique approach at conversation. It was...refreshing? Intriguing? At least, that’s how he justified it to his gobsmacked teammates when they found out you were, in fact, real. 

“The question didn’t even make sense, yet you had me thinking about it all day. It caught me off guard. Rarely do people do that, so...good job, I guess.” 

“All I heard was that you thought about me all day ♡.”

kageyama ッ

One time, you held onto his pinky instead of grabbing his whole hand during an outing together and he hadn’t gotten over it since. Early on in the relationship, although he tried his best, Kageyama wasn’t that affectionate and appreciated how you never pushed him beyond his conform level. He was nervous when it came to skin-ship, tiptoeing his way around it by simply keeping people at arm’s length, or using soft violence as a love language, like hard pats on the back and being tossed around like a ball (poor hinata lol).

It took a lot of courage for that man to eventually start giving you the affection he felt you deserved, and you cherished those moments deeply. However, nine times out of ten you’d be the one initiating it, still rendering him completely flustered since he was getting accustomed to being mushy with someone he loved dearly. So when you subconsciously latched onto the setter in the most smallest, most precious way possible…homie wanted to gift you the sun. (poor hinata pt. 2)

“Tobi, baby, you good? Why’s your face so red-”

“It’s j-just hot out here, ignore it.”

© 2022-2023 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[just-another-siimp]

Prison Break

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Graves bein Graves, Inaccurate Medical Practice, Injury descriptions, blood, torture? kinda, death threats, reader has brief ptsd moment. as always if I missed anything let me know <3

Authors Note: Holy shit you guys we've almost made it to the end! I originally planned for this to be a 3 part series but a 4th chapter will be posted in the coming days.

There are so many people that have helped me get to this point, especially @komorebiiiiiiii, @mauveserpent and @mydogeatscoffeecups who hype me up every time I say something about what i'm writing. As always likes, reblogs and comments fuel my serotonin, so if you enjoyed this please make sure to do so!

Word Count: 5k

Enemy at the Gate || Alone || Prison Break || Epilogue

The person looking back at you in the mirror was unrecognisable, a fresh bruise bloomed along your cheekbone from where Graves had hit you. Running water was all that kept you grounded, stopping you from diving deep into your thoughts. The soft scuff of shoes against concrete flooring reminded you that you weren’t alone, despite the fact that Graves had given you the opportunity to treat your wounds you were still at the mercy of his Shadows. An impatient sigh left the young Shadow who had been assigned to watch you, from the mirror you watched him impatiently adjust his stance again. Hand gripping his gun a fraction tighter. 

Taking a clean cloth you ran it under the warm water, movements purposely slow as you cleaned the dried blood from your face. The equipment you’d been given was minimal; riodine, gauze, bandages, basic suture kit and steri strips. Just enough to stabilising your wounds and nothing for the pain, probably for the best. If you were going to make it out of here alive you had to be at your best, use the training that the 141st had drilled into you. A plan was already formulating in your mind, all you needed to do was play the long game. For now.

“Why are you taking so long? It shouldn’t be taking this long.” The Shadow’s tone was frustrated, he took a step towards you, gun gesturing to the sink. “Hurry up.”

“Are you a medic, Private?” They’d called him that when he came to collect you, from the way he acted he was fresh to the mercenary game. An easy target if you really thought about it. Dropping the cloth into the sink you looked back at him, uncapping a bottle of Riodine as you raised an eyebrow at him. 

“No.” He spoke through gritted teeth, watching as you dabbed the Riodine directly to the graze on your forehead, biting back a hiss at the soft sting. 

“Why don’t you let me focus then? Or would you like me to take longer?” Your eyes met his through the mirror, lips curling as he stepped back to his original position. Under his breath he grumbled something about being a glorified babysitter, you were just glad that he didn’t have the gun trained on you anymore. With each Steri Strip you applied to your forehead the pain in your arm grew worse, from under your makeshift bandage the wound throbbed uncomfortably dread filled your chest at the thought of it being infected. 

“Hurry it up will you?” 

“I’m taking my shirt off now, Private. If you wouldn’t mind-” 

Fingering the hem of your shirt you pulled it up and over your head, you could’ve sworn the Privates cheeks heated up under the balaclava he wore as he turned away from you. Taking a chance you swiped the stitch cutter off of the sink, slipping it into the pocket of your jeans and continuing as though nothing had happened. It was easy to look at a bullet wound on anyone other than yourself, something in your stomach flipped and you felt like you were going to throw up. Gripping the sink you closed your eyes, waiting for the faint feeling to pass you thought of Soap and Ghost hoping that they weren’t injured and trying to do their own stitches.

“You’re dismissed, Private.” The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, throat constricting as panic set in. Standing too quickly you whirled around to face the Shadow that had stalked you in Las Almas. He smirked at you. You glared back. The idea of refusing to go further in treating yourself came to mind, just to spite the man in front of you. Make his evening just that bit harder. Except Graves’ voice echoed in your mind, reminding you of the deal you had made. 

-

“Do we have a deal, Chip?” He was watching you intensely, it was as though he saw right through you. You could pretend to weigh up your options all you wanted but you’d already made up your mind, he knew that too. Nodding reluctantly you looked away from him, wincing as the restraints were cut from your wrists allowing blood flow back to your fingers. 

“I’ll tell Price to call off  Soap and Ghost, any retaliation plans against the Shadows will cease and the 141st will allow you and your men to continue with your mission.” Graves looked satisfied as you repeated his demands, remaining seated you glared up at him as he approached. 

“And if you fail?” You wanted to spit in his face, anything to wipe that smug shit eating grin off of his face,

“The Los Vaqueros will die.” 

-

“Liking what you see lil’ dove? Keep starin’ and I’ll have ta let ya take a photo.” His voice bought you back to the present, shooting him an icy glare you returned to facing the mirror. The necklace of bruises on your neck ached more, they seemed to grow a darker shade at his presence alone. Shaking your head you focused on unwrapping the makeshift bandage you’d created. From the corner of your eye you could see him leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest as he watched you work. 

Blood trickled down your forearm, dipping down to your fingertips leaving dark crimson drops by your feet as you discarded the scraps of your shirt into the waste bin by your feet. The Skin around the bullet wound was raised, redness visible even under all of the dried blood. It was a miracle that the wound wasn’t infected, yet. This time you didn’t take your time treating the wound, nor did you rush. A through and through was easy to treat, no having to waste time trying to find a bullet if it wasn’t there. You’d done this hundreds of times before, it was easy. Right? Cleaning away the last of the dried blood you almost passed out, a shaky breath slipping past your lips as you glared at the suture kit. 

You were a medic, you’d treated wounds in the middle of a war zone, you were trained to mend the wounds of the people who served alongside you. Yet you couldn’t treat your own. Tears stung at your eyes, breathing becoming uneven as the frustration set in. Alongside the exhaustion it threatened to leave you a blubbering mess. If Gaz were here he would’ve steadied you, forced you to sit until the Captain could come and treat your wounds for you. If it were Soap he’d brush your tears away, say something in Scottish to make you laugh while Ghost told you both to shut up and let him focus. It made you realise just how important they all were to you, the 141st was your family and you missed them dearly. 

“‘Aight i’ve had enough of watching ya stare at that suture kit like it’s gonna kill ya.” He’s approaching you before you can stop him, not that you think you could. It didn’t stop you from backing up slightly, hand reaching up to protect yourself out of reflex. “Now now, darlin. If I wanted you dead I’d have killed ya already, I’m just gonna help ya. S’all.”

“Riveting speech.” The Shadows hand was on your shoulder now, guiding you to sit by the basin propping your injured arm up on the sink. For someone who had his hands wrapped around your throat less than 24 hours ago, he was oddly gentle. “Forgive me for not trusting you.” 

“Could bring the Private back in? Pretty sure he was going to lose his lunch if he kept watchin ya. Don’t think he’d be that nice to you either, probably never met a medic that could never treat their wounds.” That wouldn’t be the brightest idea, he’d probably faint himself if he so much as looked at the wound let alone treat it. You glared at the man in front of you instead of responding, a last ditch effort to act tough. “I’ll take that as a no.” 

He was putting on sterile gloves, hand reaching for the needle and thread. You looked away. Silently wishing that you weren’t squeamish to treat your own injuries. 

“Do you have a name?” A distraction, that would help. 

“I do, but that’s somethin’ for first dates sweets.” You rolled your eyes, knee bouncing slightly as he took a seat gaze focused on your arm. “Everyone calls me Komorebi, it means-” 

“Sunlight that filters through trees.” You cut him off, rather proud you’d remembered the Japanese word. The pinch of the needle dug into your skin, you swore under your breath trying not to flinch away from the pain. He chuckled. 

“Surprised ya know. Not everyone does.” 

“Where are you from?” 

“Earth.” 

It went on like this for a while, you asked questions and he gave you half hearted answers. Despite the company it was a welcome distraction, before you knew it the stitches were complete and Komorebi even gave you the chance to inspect his work. For someone who wasn’t a medic it was good, better than good really. The stitches were so neat they almost outdid Ghosts. 

“These are really good- who taught you?” 

“My husband.” That’s right, despite all of the messed up things the Shadows had done they were still human. Some of them had a life outside all of this, someone to go home to at the end of a tough mission. Komorebi had finished wrapping the bandage around your arm, it was rather tight but not uncomfortable at the same time. Before you could continue the conversation he silenced you. “Communications is ready for you now, I’ll escort you down.” 

There was no chance to protest, you didn’t even have the chance to thank him before you were plunged into darkness. Another set of footsteps approached, hand tilting your head to the side baring your neck to the unknown Shadow. A sharp pinch, a muffled apology and everything stopped.  

- 

“I don’t understand why you drugged them, what’s a combat medic gonna do-” The Private had returned, staring at your barely conscious body.

“They’re not just a combat medic, they’re a part of the 141st. That makes them a threat.” 

When the bag was ripped from your head loose strands of hair were tugged at, the roughness of the action leaving a sharp sting that brought you back to reality. The drugs were still working their way through your system, time and space seeming to move differently in the dark place that you found yourself in. It was hard to keep your head up, stopping it from dipping to your chest. Your stomach churned at the putrid smell of cheap cigarettes, bile rising in your throat as the smoke was blown directly into your face. A door opened and closed, you were left alone. It took an effort to open your eyes, when you did you were only met with more darkness. 

Blinking a few times you adjusted to your new surroundings, gaze landing on the blinking red light in front of you. It was an intimidation tactic, an attempt to amp up your anxiety by leaving you in the dark wondering what horrors were to come. For a long time you hadn’t been afraid of the dark, more so what hid in the shadows. Straining your ears you tried to listen for something, anything that would give you a hint of what was behind that door. 

You were met with nothing. 

-

Alejandro’s Safe House - Las Almas 

Since they’d arrived at the safe house he hadn’t stopped pacing, betrayal was one thing but taking one of their own, their medic, their Chip? As much as he’d wanted to Ghost, knew that he couldn’t go in there guns blazing he had to be smart, ensure the safety of Alejandro and the Los Vaqueros as well as yourself. Johnny’s anger left him almost unrecognisable, he swore under his breath muttering something about how kidnapping Chip was crossing a line no man should cross. Clapping a hand on the man's shoulder he did his best to offer reassurance. 

“We’ll get them back, Johnny.”

“We better or I’m going to kill that so-” 

- 

A few hours had passed since you’d woken, the drugs had worn off fog finally clearing from your mind allowing you to formulate a rough plan. At first Price had been adverse to the idea of a medic joining the 141st in the field, he knew that eventually one would be needed but he’d planned on digging his heels in until Laswell forced one on him. That was until Russia, you’d proved your worth as both a medic and a soldier that day. He forced Laswell’s hand, pulling you from your current assignment just to have you on his team. He’d sat you down the moment you entered the base, joking that if he was going to have a medic he wanted it to be you. You were flattered, thinking about it made you miss him more. 

That’s why it was important for you to keep it together. Price thought that you were good enough for the 141st and you didn’t want to disappoint him. The Shadows were right, you were 141st and that alone made you a threat, medic or not.

In your back pocket you could feel the sharp pinch of the stitch cutters digging into your flesh, it wasn’t a weapon but it was sharp enough to cut through the plastic of the zip ties that bound your hands together. Leaning back against the chair you lifted your hips, fingers slipping into your pocket pulling the object out and securing it between your fingers. You weren’t sure how much time you had left alone, so you got to work careful not to cut through the whole way just enough to snap the ties the minute you had a chance to escape. 

The door swung open, slamming against the wall. The sound was so loud that you flinched, bright lights pointed directly at you as two Shadows entered the room. In the corner of your eye you caught the red blinking light stop, a solid red staring directly at you. It belonged to a camera, this was proof of life.

-

“State your name for the record.” 

“It’s Chip.”

“Not your callsign, your full name.” 

“Potato Chip.” 

The Shadow’s fist connected with your cheek, head falling to the side as pain radiated across your the side of your face. Your name was something precious a secret that could never be spilt not even to save your life, it was worth any amount of pain they threw at you to protect it. Taking a deep breath you picked your head back up, staring directly at the camera. 

“This is a direct message to Captain John Price of the 141st from Commander Graves of Shadow Company.” You started, voice firm as the Shadow behind you cocked his weapon. A silent warning for you not to say something stupid. Looking into the camera you hoped that Price understood what you were asking of him “I am sure by now that you are aware of what has happened in Las Almas, in order to ensure that Shadow company can continue their mission with no further distractions he has asked that the 141st does not retaliate in anyway.” 

“Once our mission is completed we will release your Medic into your custody.” The Shadow behind you interrupted, gun pointed at your head as he continued with his threat. “Any form of retaliation will result in immediate execution.” 

“Captain, listen to me. I know it’s hard to understand what is going on, I’m sure that you’re just as confused as I am.” The Shadows were watching you intently, trying to figure out what you were trying to say. “It’s not worth it. Please don’t disregard what I say and do it anyway.”

 Again the bag was put over your head, injured arm grabbed roughly as you were pulled upwards and out of the room. All you could do was hope that Price could understand the words you spoke with extra emphasis. Not that the message would get out to him anyway. 

- 

They were moving you to another building, the cool bite of evening air chilling your exposed skin. A helicopter flew overhead, you were pulled along roughly struggling to keep up with the Shadow. Silence loomed once the helicopter was gone, coming to a sudden halt you strained your ears, expecting to hear a knock or a car drive by. Except there was nothing, only the familiar feeling of eyes watching you. Continuing the surface under your feet changed, gravel crunching under your feet. As far as you could tell you and the Shadow were alone, so why could you hear a third pair of footsteps amongst your own? 

Everything was moving far too quickly, the hand that had been holding you was now gone. A strangled cry was followed by a thud to your right, shuffle of feet to your left throwing you off. This could be your only chance to escape, taking a risk you snapped the zip ties. Instinct told you to pull off the hood and run, fate had other plans. The hood was pulled off, gloved hand covering your mouth and an arm wrapping around your waist to pull you back behind a car. They weren’t rough with you, not like the Shadows had been. It was as if they were being careful not to injure you further, once behind cover you were turned around. You were met with gentle brown eyes and a concerned smile. 

“Rudy..” Your voice was barely above a whisper, there were a thousand questions running through your mind. Had he been captured as well? Was he escaping and just so happened to stumble across you? Those questions could wait. He’d pulled you into a hug, arms wrapped tight around your shoulders. It was grounding, easing the wild beating of your heart as he rubbed soothing circles on your shoulder. He only released you once Ghost and Soap began their approach. 

Soap was the first to reach you, hands cupping your cheeks before checking over you. It was a tender moment, he’d held you at arms length, eyes staring into yours before pulling you into a bone crushing hug. Ghost was quick to remind you both that this wasn’t friendly territory. Even once the Scot pulled away you smiled at Ghost, shuffling over to him. His large hand cupped your cheek before patting you on the shoulder. Always the professional he was, wasting no time to arm you with a battle rifle and medical kit. He grumbled at you to stick to Soap’s six, the four of you making your way through the prison's main complex. You tried not to think that you would’ve been taken here if the Shadow had well.. made it.

A short trip up the stairs later and you were at Alejandro’s cell, Soap entering first followed by Rudy while you remained outside the cell with Ghost. You checked the stairwell one last time, checking the Shadows for Komorebi not wanting to be caught up with him again. Even if you had the others to fall back on. Hearing a commotion behind you there was no choice but to turn back, tension bled from your shoulders when you saw the Colonel alive and well, with only a bruise blooming on his cheek. He passed Ghost clapping him on the shoulder, approaching you with what could only be described as a proud smile. 

“Ah! Papa’s Fritas, you made it out of Las Almas alive.” You laughed at the nickname, shaking your head as he wrapped you up in a hug, lips pressing to your cheek before letting you go. It was hard to ignore the way your cheeks burnt, and how Soap looked like he was about to piss himself laughing at your reaction. 

“Almost made it out, got caught and ended up here.” He gave you a sympathetic look, patting your shoulder before getting back to the task at hand. Freeing the Los Vaqueros was the main priority, you could all regroup and exchange stories. 

-

There was barely a chance to register what was going on in your surroundings, the concrete pillar you’d taken cover behind cracked at the onslaught of bullets that were fired directly into it. Soap was ground next to you, returning fire as guns were reloaded on both sides. You both pushed forward, hand resting on the back of his tac vest reminding him that you were directly behind him. Helicopter blades thundered overhead, forcing you both to a screaming halt behind a divider. That was one thing that could potentially ruin escape for all of you. 

If you’d blinked you would’ve missed the RPG striking the tail of the Helo, it spun out of control and hurtled towards the ground in a ball of fire. Except no one was paying attention to the crash, instead their focus was on the green glow stick that had been thrown to the base of the wall. You suspected that the familiar figure standing atop the wall was none other than Captain Price, thoughts confirmed when the shadow of his bucket hat was caught in your sights. You and Soap were the first to reach the wall.

“On ya go Hen, I’ll be right behind you.” This was the fun part, clinging to the ascender you were up the wall in seconds, Price was quick to grab you by the wrist pulling you the rest of the way up. 

There was little time for reunions with Soap and the others close behind you, catching sight of Gaz you swore your heart skipped a beat. The distance between you both was closed in seconds, you were wrapped in his embrace as though there wasn’t a battle going on behind you. Letting go of him your fingers slipped through his before fist bumping him. A handshake months in the making, you were both uncoordinated and it sure needed a hell of a lot of work but tradition was tradition. It would be bad luck if you didn’t do it. 

“My men need cover.” Alejandro’s voice held authority, concern for his men's wellbeing something you’d always respected him for. He’d always put their safety over his own. Price nodded barking out orders to Soap, Ghost and Gaz before turning to you. 

“Chip. We’ll see you at the bottom of the wall. Go!” 

“Yes, Sir.” It was hard to leave their side but you didn’t need to be told twice, moving to the edge of the wall and allowing one of the Los Vaqueros down before you. Taking one last look at the prison complex you notice Komorebi, standing amongst the dead Shadows. You couldn’t see his eyes but it felt as though he was staring directly at you. As you began your descent to the bottom of the wall guilt crept upwards, settling in your throat. 

Was it such a bad thing to hope that he would make it out of there alive? Go back home to his husband, learn how to do stupidly good stitches. To return to a sense of normalcy even if it wasn’t deserved? Who were you to judge what he did and did not deserve? As your feet hit solid ground you shook your head, pushing the thought to the back of your mind. 

-

The soft pattering of rain against the tinted windows of the van kept you awake, the revelation of what Shadow Company and Shepard had done left you lost for words. Silence had fallen over the van like a blanket, it threatened to suffocate all of you. As adrenaline seeped out of your tired bones it left a wave of pain and nausea, the events of the last few days starting to catch up. You leaned forward elbows digging into your thighs, fingers locking behind your neck as you closed your eyes trying to force the feeling away. You could feel Gaz watching you through the rear view mirror, Price had turned around adding to the concerned looks that were thrown your way. 

“Scoot over, Bonnie.” Soap was the first to break the silence, you did as he’d asked only stopping when your hip bumped against Ghosts’. He didn’t seem to mind. Exhaustion had overtaken you, fighting sleep was hard especially when Soap closed the space between you pulling you back to rest your head against his shoulder. It was warm, the presence of both Soap and Ghost comforting until all three of you were startled by a sudden pot hole. Gaz’s voice sounded far away when he apologised, Price making a comment about revoking his driving privileges. In the commotion Ghost’s hand had ‘accidentally’ fell to rest on your arm, index and middle finger resting above the pulse point on your wrist.

“You did good in there, Kid.” He gave you a gentle nudge, keeping his hand there. You didn’t say a word, only leeching off of the warmth that Soap radiated. The hum of the engine and the rock of the van lulling you to sleep, Soaps arm eventually wrapping around you keeping you safe.

Keeping away the feeling of being. 

Alone.

-

There were no showers at Alejandro’s safe house, that didn’t really matter to you as much. Soap had bought you a cup of coffee, the first one in three days and suddenly you were reminded why Coffee was no good on an empty stomach. The bathroom was small, three cubicle’s and a metal sink that lined the wall. You were grateful that it was empty, taking a small moment to steal yourself away and focus on the silence. The water was cool as it ran over your hands, bringing it to your face you were able to soothe the warmth that seemed to cover your face and neck. 

Since returning to the safehouse you’d been smothered by Soap, he watched over you like a mother hen would a chook. He’d held your hand while Ghost fixed up the stitches on your arm, made you laugh when you thought you were about to cry. Staring at yourself in the mirror you tried to ignore the bruises that were left behind, the purple-blue hue that formed along your cheekbone. The reddish-purple ring around your neck that no one wanted to acknowledge.  No one had spoken about what happened in Las Almas that fateful night, secretly you hoped it would stay that way but from both a clinical perspective and for your report. The details would eventually have to be discussed. 

It was an overwhelming thought, having to recount what you had seen in Las Almas. Explain how you had watched people murdered in their own homes, how the Shadows had taken no mercy on the innocent few mixed amongst the cartel. There was so much blood that coated that town, suddenly the cool water on your face was no longer comforting. You felt too warm, too crowded in such a small space. 

Behind you the door swung open looking through the mirror you saw him, Komorebi stood at the entrance staring at you with emotionless eyes. Fear overwhelmed you, hand reaching to your hip where your gun had been waiting for you. By the time you’d turned around the Shadow had disappeared, instead replaced with Price, whose hands were raised but no real look of concern on his face. Not one that screamed ‘don’t shoot me’ at least. 

You swallowed thickly, blinking back tears as your hand fell to your side. He lowered his hands, keeping them visible showing that he was not a threat to you. Opening your mouth to apologise nothing came out, all you could do was look away ashamed at your actions. It was your job to protect these men, yet here you were about to point a gun at your own Captain. 

“Sorry I startled you.” He started out softly, footsteps slow to approach eventually stopping leaning against the sink next to you. There was silence as you calmed down, he waited for you to speak to him not forcing you into anything. It gave you the chance to even out your breathing again, though it didn’t change the way your heart hammered in your chest. 

“I’m sorry, Sir. I thought-” 

“You went through hell in Las Almas, Chip. I’m not mad at you for being on guard.” Satisfied that you were calm enough now he shifted his position, coming to stand in front of you arms folded over his chest as he leaned all of his weight into his left leg. He wasn’t mad at you for almost shooting him, that news alone was enough for the tears to start streaming down your cheeks. “We would’ve come anyway, regardless of whether or not you thought you were worth it.” 

Deep down you weren’t crying because Price didn’t care that you’d almost gone and shot him, the emotions you’d tried so hard to push down were flooding your senses. A choked sob was all that left you as Price pulled you to him, hand resting on the back of your head as he held you close. Swaying gently while your hands clung to the back of his jacket, soft sobs filling the bathroom as he let you cry. 

“It’s alright, love. You’re not alone anymore.”

Taglist: @komorebiiiiiiii @mauveserpent @mydogeatscoffeecups @reiya-djarin @underatreedrinkingtea @blueoorchid @poohkie90 @kult6 @watermaylon-writes @boxofgasoline @cumbersome-robes @frazie99 @bowserowser @urfavsunkissedleo @kyuupidwrites @omgitstatertot @justpeachiixx @trashy-panda777 @msecho19 @spinkeydinkey @whoreforhorror

[offside-the-lines]

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 5. Evie's Birthday

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 5 || Next Episode >>

Chapter Summary: Sometimes the music moves you. Sometimes the bass pounding in your chest makes you do things you wouldn’t do. Fuck it, it’s your birthday. That’s what Evie tells herself anyway. There are gifts given, but there are also secrets kept.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warning: mature content in the form of very sensual dancing, alcohol consumption. Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 5.6k // 44.5k

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Evie’s Birthday

Tito — April 5

His conversation with Mat ran on a loop in his head; he had not thought about anything else for the last four days. Not on the flight back from New York. Not when he quietly crept into their— her bed. Not when he blankly stared at Instagram, rubbing her ankle that she had perched in his lap as she worked on her book. Not when they were cooking dinner together, working in practiced harmony. Not when she was cuddled up next to him on the couch, watching TV. 

He could barely stop thinking about it during training, so distracted that he was missing passes and fumbling drills.

He curses Mat over and over again in his head for forcing him to think about the what-ifs. He curses Mat for making him question everything they do together and whether it’s just friendly. He curses Mat for making him look for signs in everything Evie did, any changes that might mean she may no longer think of him as just a friend.

Tito sighs, looking at the bartender pouring his drinks.

He should be careful not to drink too much; he has a back-to-back to play this weekend. 

Tito downs both of the shots he ordered anyway. 

PRYSM is a massive club filled to the brim with people on a Friday night. But no matter how crowded it is, when he walks back to the dancefloor, his eyes find her immediately. Tito can’t help that his eyes have been following Evie all evening as she dances with her friends; the way her body moves, so confident and carefree. 

She looks happy. Tito’s glad that he decided to come to Evie’s birthday party despite his game tomorrow because he gets to see her look like this. 

He stands to the side of the dancefloor, not ready to be pulled into her orbit again. She’s got her head thrown back, laughing easily at something Kelsey was saying. He thinks about the Evie he met on Christmas morning; she looks so much lighter now. It all but confirms for him what he has been thinking: he can’t tell her. 

It would be selfish of him to tell her right as she’s starting to feel at home in Chicago, not after knowing how hard it was for her the first few months, how hard it was for her to feel like she belonged. But, here she is, with a small crowd of her friends, a mix of work friends, other writer friends, and even some of the couples from the team.

His thoughts are interrupted as he watches a man come up to her, whispering in her ear. He feels his guts twist and the vodka in his stomach taunting him. 

Fuck— that’s new.

It feels like torture, but he can’t look away, even as they start dancing, moving closer together. The man’s hands are on her body— fuck. Tito’s thankful for the dulling blur of the vodka seeping into his mind. He thinks about just leaving for the briefest of seconds before he catches himself. 

He’s only got sixteen more days with her. And he's not going to waste it on stupid, selfish jealousy. He made his choice, and he’s going to deal with the consequences. So, if that means being her wingman and feeling the pieces of his heart get torn out of his chest, it’ll be worth it for just a little more time.

Fifteen days and seven hours. The guilt rises in the back of his throat like bile; he still hasn’t told her he booked his flight. He swallows that down, too. Not on her birthday. He’s not going to ruin her birthday by making it about him.

Across the dancefloor, Evie’s eyes snap to him, and he has to breathe through the litany of emotions that bubble to the surface when she smiles so brightly at him. Having spotted him, she starts to push through the crowd towards him, her dancing partner forgotten. A small— evil— part of him rejoices.

“Tito! Oh my god, hey! Where the hell did you go? You were gone for fucking ages!”

“Bathroom, remember?”

She leans in close to his ear, her voice a low growl, “What? Were you getting a handy in there?”

He swallows and squeaks out, “What?”

She throws her head back and laughs, leaning into him, her hands landing on his chest. “You were in the bathroom for so long! I missed you.”

She beams up at him, and he fights the clench in his chest. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be gone for that long.”

She pulls away and studies his face, her eyes glistening in the club lights. “Hang on a second, did you get a drink without me?” she accuses, jabbing his chest lightly.

“Uh… yes?”

She gasps, “Anthony! It’s my birthday! That’s so rude.”

Her eyes are so wide, looking up at him so seriously that he can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, ma chouette. Tell you what, if you want a drink, we can go get you one now. I will pay for whatever top-shelf tequila you want.”

“You better!” she yells, dragging him away by his arm before he can even respond. 

Evie —

Evie's pressed against the bar, protected from the pushing and shoving crowd by Tito’s solid body against her back. She’s waiting for their tequila shots when the thought occurs to her.

“Hey, Tito?” she glances back

“Yeah,” he leans in to hear her, filling her senses with his cologne.

“When did chouchou become chouette?”

He laughs, “Yeah, chouchou. Because you’re my cute little sugar-sweet owl. Big eyes, and so smart.”

She pouts, picking the only part she even remotely knows how to respond to. “I’m not that little.”

“To me, you are,” he says, tucking her under his chin. His body presses her into the bar, and the pressure sends a shiver down her spine. She’s glad that he can’t see the bright blush on her face.

“Fine, then. I get to call you something stupid, too.” She pauses as she thinks. “Solours. Like the yellow Care Bear.”

“Okay… The one with a smiling sun on its stomach? I’ll take that. It's so cute you remember his name,” he says, nuzzling her cheek with a laugh.

“At least you think I’m cute,” she tries to grumble.

She thinks she hears him say, “I really fucking do,” right as the bartender returns with their shots.

Tito spins her around and holds her hand in the non-existent space between them; he sprinkles some salt on it before handing her the lime and a shot. She waits for him to do his own hand but is caught watching his big hand move. She doesn’t realize she’s staring until her eyes flicker back up to meet his gaze, barely a foot from her face; his pupils swallow the normally serene blue as he focuses on her.

He holds her gaze as he licks the salt off his hand, slow and exaggerated, sending a prickling wave of heat through her body. 

Her mouth dries up watching his throat bob as he swallows down the shot. 

Her eyes snap up to his lips as they wrap around the lime, his cheeks hollowing out as he sucks on the juice. 

When she follows a drop of juice roll slowly down his chin, she almost leans in to lick it away. 

She’s able to snap herself out of it before she does something stupid. She quickly takes her own shot, blood rushing in her ears. Her whole body feels like a livewire, buzzing. She barely even tastes the harsh slide of the alcohol or the tart sting of the lime. Even though she’s been standing absolutely still, her breathing is heavy.

Although only the edges of her mind are hazy, it still feels like wading into honey as she tries to figure out what they're meant to be doing next.

She says the first sane thing that pops into her head.

“Did you know this place has another dance floor?” 

“Oh yeah?” his mouth twitching.

“Yeah! I think it’s downstairs. It’s more for dancing; they move the tables on Fridays, so there’s more space.” 

There’s something alight in his eyes as he takes a step back, taking her hand in his. “Let’s go then.”

His expression settles in what she can only call a smolder; it looks so sinful compared to his usual, sweet smile. Evie can’t help the nervous giggle that escapes from her. Seemingly satisfied, he leads the way, keeping her close to him as they move across the room, down the stairs, and into the thick press of bodies on the crowded dancefloor.

The music down here is different: dark and sensual. Once they’ve gone deep enough into the crowd, Tito pulls her close and loops her arms around his neck. She feels the tequila coursing through her veins; her body suddenly warm all over. She can’t help but lean into his space, breathing in the intoxicating concoction of his sweat and cologne.

The crowd around them pulses in time with the music. When he pulls her even closer, she's so startlingly aware of the broad expanse of his shoulders that her forearms are resting on. In front of her eyes, a deep sliver of his chest glistens with sweat; his skin glows in contrast with the black shirt. The soft hairs at the nape of his neck keep brushing her hands and she just wants to bury her fingers in it.

Tito’s arms, locked together on the small of her back, tug her in close. Suddenly, all she can hear is her own breathing; the music of the club sounds far away and muffled like she’s underwater. She refuses to look at him, instead fixing her gaze on a point over his shoulder. She second-guesses the shot she just took because her mind feels too hazy, out of focus, and out of control. 

Or maybe she should've taken more shots, enough to get her out of her head like last time.

She promptly dismisses the blurry memories of last time. This isn’t like last time. Last time was just two people with alcohol coursing through their veins, getting lost in the heat of the moment. Neither of them had ever even brought it up again. She shouldn’t expect a repeat of their drunken misdeeds.

The next song plays, even more sultry than the last. She presses impossibly closer to him, their bodies slotting together perfectly. She presses her cheek to his and feels the small puff of air that brushes against her ear. It makes goosebumps erupt across her skin.

Evie tries to not think and just moves to the music, a small roll of her hips to the beat. Tito moves with her: hip to hip, chest to chest, cheek to cheek. She thinks about how easy it would be to move her head to the side and kiss him. She wonders if he would let her press their lips together again and just get lost in the overwhelming sensations, even without intoxication as the excuse.

She thinks she can feel the edges of his lips against her cheek where his hot breath tickles her skin, and it becomes all she can think about. What would those lips feel like on hers again? On her neck? On her shoulders? On every inch of her feverish skin?

Heat builds in her cheeks from that one minuscule point of contact, spreading south rapidly. She suddenly feels desperate and needy but unable to make a move, afraid of breaking whatever fragile balance they have at this moment. If this is all she gets, she’ll take it. 

Her hands move as if magnetized to the curls at the nape of his neck that she can’t stop thinking about; when her fingers finally bury themselves in his hair, giving it a gentle tug, she shivers at the shaky sigh he lets out at the sensation.

Her head starts to turn of its own accord, her lips brushing against his cheeks as they seek contact, but he pulls away so suddenly her vision swims. He spins her around between one breath and the next so that he's pressed along her back, his chin hooked over her shoulder, and his hands firm on the bone of her hips. 

She moves to make a comment but is unable to when her breath catches in her throat as she feels the heat of his lips pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses across the top of her shoulder. He moves up the column of her throat when she drops her head back onto his shoulder, granting him more access. 

He finds a sensitive spot right under her ear, drawing a whimpering moan from her lips as her hand flies back to grip his hair. The sound should be lost in the thrumming bass of the club, but she can feel him hear it when his fingers dig into the flesh of her hips briefly.

“Is this what you want?” he growls in her ear. The hand not in his hair reaches down to grasp the corded muscle of his forearm wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her flush to his front. 

She nods weakly, her mind scattered as she tries to process every single point of contact. In the haze of tequila and adrenaline, it takes a moment for her to register the hard shape that's pressed lightly against her.

It becomes the only place she can focus on. She feels her frustration build; Tito isn’t doing anything, not rocking his hips into her or seeking any friction, just seemingly content to be glued along her back.

Evie can feel her heart racing to the loud thrum of the bass filling her chest; she starts to shift her hips to the music more boldly. There’s a sharp intake of breath before Tito freezes her hips with his arms, his teeth gently scraping the side of her throat.

“Chou,” he growls in her ear.

Sugar. Baby. Sweetheart. Her brain unhelpfully supplies in English.

God, she's going to think of this moment every time he calls her that from now on.

Her hand, the one still buried in his hair, fists the curls hard, pulling him even closer to her neck. He needs no further encouragement as he groans, scraping his teeth along her exposed neck. 

His forearm ripples under her hand as he spreads his large hand, covering so much of her ribcage it makes her dizzy; his pressure is utterly unyielding as his thumb brushes under the soft slopes of her breast. His other hand snakes down her body, parting the slit of her dress, until she feels his hot palm digging into the exposed skin of her bare thigh, effectively pinning her to him.

She feels wild; her attention split between his firm hands, his wet mouth, his hot and sweaty body against her back, the thick bulge pressing against her ass. She can feel him everywhere. It’s still not enough.

She slides her hand down his forearm and interlaces her fingers over his, pressing lightly as she encourages him to slide his hand further north.

“Chou— We— Ah, fuck.” His voice is rough in her ear, a whine lacing the edges of his words.

The thing is, she doesn’t need him to say it. He’s right. They should tone it down, but she doesn't want to. In the back of her mind, the knowledge prickles at her that their friends could find them like this on the dancefloor at any moment. She can’t bring herself to care as his hand follows her lead. Pleasure zings through her body when his fingers brush over her nipple before coming to rest against the hollow of her throat. 

There’s probably a limit to what she should ask of him as two friends overwhelmed by carnal sensations and the intoxicating atmosphere of the nightclub.

She grinds her hips meaningfully as he tilts her head, kissing her jaw and cheek. 

She can’t tell where the line is anymore. She doesn’t care. As long as Tito keeps going.

“Chou, God, you’re so fucking— We probably shouldn’t—” he rasps in her ear. 

Evie wants to hear none of it. 

She surges up and captures the lips she’s been reluctantly thinking about night and day for the past three weeks. 

Impossibly, it feels even better than she remembers. Tito's stunned for a second, but he goes easily when she turns in his arms to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt. It’s a relief when she feels him hum and melt into the kiss.

When they part, he just looks at her with a lazy smile that sends a jolt of fondness through her body. The longer he looks at her like that, the more she feels like a shaken-up Coke bottle. Waiting for what comes next. Building. Anticipating. 

Her eye catches on a bead of sweat as it rolls down his face and neck, and she doesn’t stop herself from leaning in and chasing its salty path with her tongue. The sound he makes in response comes from so deep in his chest that she wants to climb into his body to see if she can make him do it again. 

His hands, which were resting on her waist, slide down her back and over the swell of her ass— pausing for a quick squeeze— before they settle just below her cheeks, on the back of her upper thigh. She feels his fingers flex as he lifts her onto her toes, and she gasps when his hard length aligns with the valley of her hip.

“Oh my god—” Evie chokes out, throat tight with desire as she catches Tito’s smirk, his eyes so dark there’s barely any brilliant blue around the edge. They pause, lips barely touching, and breathing each other's air; it makes her dizzy. 

Falling back into his embrace feels like a flaming star caught amidst the gravity of a black hole called desire, their lips pressing together in a desperate plea for more. There’s a hook in her ribcage that tugs so strongly towards him it makes her ache.

As their tongues swirl, she finds herself wishing that this was real. That this was happening anywhere but here: a few drinks deep in a nightclub. That this was different than every other hook-up they’ve both had on any number of generic, replaceable dance floors.

She wishes this was happening in their bed, in their home— 

On her bed. In her home. 

The thought hits her square in the chest. She pulls away; their lips separate with a wet smack. Her vision was fuzzy, and she’s gasping for breath as Tito kisses down the column of her throat, unaware of her sudden turmoil. Her head swims with the reality of who she’s doing this with. 

This isn’t a stranger. Or an acquaintance. 

This isn’t even just a friend— 

This is Tito. Her Tito. Her Care bear, sunshine, as she had just called him earlier. 

What the fuck are they doing? What the fuck is she doing? This time, she doesn’t have the inebriation as a justification to placate herself with. Just misplaced desperation. 

Her mind suddenly feels too clear.

It’s when he gently nudges a thigh between her legs that she's struck by a need so strong that the feverish heat licks at every cell in her body, her skin crackling with it. 

They have to stop— She has to stop before Tito does something she’s sure he’ll regret tomorrow. She jumps back so abruptly that she almost pulls them both to the ground.

Frantically, Tito searches her face, brows creased in shock and concern. He steadies her firmly, holding her a foot away from him, fingers digging into her arm desperately as if he’s unwilling to let go.

“Whoa, what’s wr—”

He's interrupted by the squeal of Kelsey calling to them from a few paces away in the crowd. 

Evie jolts, eyes wide with panic as she pulls her arms away. 

“I need to go to the bathroom,” she says to the approaching group as she slips into the crowd.

She faintly hears Alandra say, “I’ll go with her,” before her hand is on Evie’s back, guiding her to the bathroom.

She’s grateful that they do not speak; Evie only suffers her assessing gaze for the time it takes her to wash her hands and freshen up. She carefully puts on a neutral face and shrugs at Alandra’s quirked eyebrow through the mirror.

When they get back to the group, Tito isn’t there. Before she can panic, Jason squeezes her elbow to tell her he just went to sit down. She doesn’t think she can face him yet, not while she can still feel the hot brand of his hands all over her body.

So she stays and dances with the group for a while before following the majority of the group back to the VIP booth, where she finds Tito sitting, hunched over and staring into a glass. She sends him a soft smile and watches his shoulders relax when she slides down the booth so she’s next to him. She nudges him with her shoulder amiably. 

They both stay in their spots for the rest of the evening. Evie occasionally jumps into the conversation while Tito sits next to her, both uncharacteristically quiet. Eventually, she feels herself flagging, leaning more and more into Tito’s shoulder. When he finally speaks, it’s only to ask her if she’s ready to go home. She nods eagerly. 

They wave goodbye to everyone, and he guides her gently outside to a waiting car, his hand never touching her back even though she can feel it no more than an inch away. They sit in silence, listening to the quiet radio, both looking out the window.

She tries to not let their slight jilted awkwardness bother her as they get ready for bed, moving around each other as they do every other night. There’s only one moment where her hold on herself slips: she almost tells him to just fucking come here when he walks into the bedroom shirtless, having forgotten to take it with him to the bathroom. She slams her mouth shut before any words can leave her lips. 

“Good night,” she says instead, giving him a soft smile as she settles into the bed, turning towards the wall. She doesn’t even close her eyes and pretend to sleep, tension creeping back into her body.

After a moment or two, the lights turn off, and the bed dips beside her. She feels Tito lay on his back, stock still. For an excruciating minute, they both just listen to the sound of their measured breathing in the stagnant air of the bedroom.

It’s Tito who breaks; he sighs and rolls towards her. He slides an arm around her waist and pulls her close.

“I think it’s past midnight,” he whispers into her hair, “Happy Birthday, chouchou.”

“Thank you, Solou.”

“Good night.” He chuckles at the nickname and presses a light kiss to her temple before settling back down.

With the weight of his arm around her waist, she falls asleep fast.

Evie — April 6

Evie wakes up on the morning of her 29th birthday to an empty bed. Her stomach drops as the weight of last night hits her. For a moment, she looks at the empty pillow next to her and feels the panic seeping in.

Her chest loosens when she sees a note left for her on her nightstand:

Good morning! Happy birthday mon chou. Sorry I can’t be there when you wake up BUT!!!! I made you some tea in a keep-warm mug (first present) ◡̈  I’ll see you when I get back after morning skate. — solours ♡ ☼

She just stares at the note for a while, her finger lightly tracing the heart and sun Tito drew on the page. She smiles when she picks up her new copper-colored Ember mug. She has been looking at getting one for a while and never took the plunge; $200 was a ridiculous amount of money to spend on a mug, even if it keeps her tea at the perfect temperature. She supposes Tito noticed her opening and closing that tab on her computer. 

She snaps a picture of her sitting in bed, holding the cup of tea, and sends it to Tito:

To tito 🧸🌞: [attachment: photo] I can’t believe you got this for me. Thank you. I love it.

Her tea is perfect when she finally takes a sip. She closes her eyes, head resting against the headboard, and just sinks into the feeling. The lingering remnants of the panic in her chest are replaced by a warm tingle that spreads from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

Some time later, she's still cradling her empty mug while scrolling Instagram when she hears her front door open. There's some rustling in the living room and kitchen before Tito quietly pokes his head into the bedroom.

“Hi,” he smiles brightly.

“Hi,” she whispers back. 

His face disappears from the doorway for a second before he returns, holding a small bag and a bouquet of flowers. Evie feels the air leave her lungs as he sits next to her on the edge of the bed.

“Happy birthday, ma chouette,” he says, voice impossibly gentle as he hugs her. She has to breathe through the wave of emotion that hits her, trying very hard not to teeter towards tears.

“Anthony, what the fuck?” she scolds quietly, releasing him from the hug, “I told you you didn’t need to get me anything.”

He shrugs. “I know, but I wanted to,” he says, handing over the bouquet.

She picks up the bouquet of flowers and inhales their sweet scent; it occupies her so that she wouldn’t do or say something stupid. 

“Well, thank you for the flowers. They’re so beautiful. How did you know I loved chrysanthemums?” Evie asks as she reverently brushes her fingertips over the spray of petals. It’s probably the most beautiful bouquet she’s ever seen, a bright contrast of colors between the mums, spray roses, peonies, and snapdragons.

“You mentioned it when you sent your mom a bouquet for her birthday. You made a terrible joke about ‘mums and moms,” he chuckles softly.

She looks up at him and searches his face. “That was in February.”

“Yeah,” he shrugs like it was no big deal. Like recalling the most inconsequential tidbit hidden in a joke months ago is a given.

“How do you even remember that?”

He smiles sheepishly, reaching for the bag and handing it to her. “Here. Open the box first, before the card.”

He helps her put the bouquet and mug down on the nightstand before watching her delicately unwrap the box, his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation. When she finally has it open, she gasps.

Inside the velvet jewelry box is a gold chain with three charms hanging down the middle. Evie’s fingers hover over them, almost scared to touch it as if the necklace would disappear if spooked. Eventually, ever so gently, she moves the charms so she can see them better: a tea bag, an ice skate, and a book. When she tilts it towards the light, she can see the title on the book is blank, but her name is engraved where the author would be.

She can’t bear to take her eyes away as she croaks, “Solours, this is…”

“Do you like it?” his voice fragile next to her.

Her eyes flicker up to meet his, “Yes, of course I do. This is— This is beautiful. I love it.”

The smile that lights up his face is blinding; her breath catches in her throat in response. He doesn’t seem to notice the effect he has when he reaches out to poke at the book charm. “The book charm is blank right now, but when you pick a title for your book, they can engrave it on for us. Right above your name.”

A small squeak slips out of her mouth as she fails to contain the tears that well up in her eyes.

“Woah, hey, hey, what’s wrong? It’s okay if you don’t like it. I can get you something else,” he says quickly, hugging her to his side. 

Her hands tighten on the box on reflex, pulling it close to her chest. “No— That’s not. Tito, I love it. I love it so much. It’s just— The mug, and this— I think this is the best gift anyone has ever gotten me. It’s— It’s too much.”

He squeezes her tighter, “Don’t be silly. It’s not too much, okay? Only the best gifts for my best girl.”

She makes a noise somewhere between a whimper, a sob, and a groan. It makes Tito laugh, and she sinks into the rumble of his chest against her cheek.

“Here. Would you like me to put it on for you?” he asks, pulling away slightly.

“Yes, please,” she whispers, her voice barely audible as she hands him the box.

He stands and places the box on her nightstand, gingerly lifting out the necklace. She knee walks to the edge of the bed, her back facing him, and pulls her hair to the side. His fingers lightly brush her collarbones and neck as he gingerly puts the necklace on; every single hair on her body is standing on end as he works. 

When he finishes adjusting the necklace so it’s centered on her chest, he places a tender kiss on the top of her head.

“Perfect. Just like you,” he murmurs to himself against her soft hair.

“What?” she says, looking up at him upside-down with a smile crinkling her eyes.

He clears his throat. “Go take a look in the mirror, and then you have one more thing to open.” She leaps off the bed and places a soft peck on his cheek before skipping to the bathroom.

When she comes back into the room, he's sitting on the edge of the bed, fidgeting with the envelope in his hand.

She beams, “It looks beautiful, Solou. I love it. Truly. Thank you.”

He shrugs and presses his lips together, holding the envelope out. “Here, open this.”

She comes to stand between his legs as she slides the card out of the envelope. A piece of paper flutters to the ground; she bends down to pick it up while she reads the card.

Evie— Ma chouette, I hope today can be at least a top 10 birthday for you. Because that’s what you deserve— the best. You are #1 on my list of favorite people (don’t tell Barz I said this, he will be fucking insufferable). You’re the best person I have ever met and I feel so lucky to call you my friend every single day. I don’t know how I would’ve done the past few months without you.  You’ve done so much for me and my career, so I wanted to do something for you. I hope this isn’t overstepping. I know that you probably know plenty of people in the industry, but I figured a few more contacts can’t hurt. On the piece of paper are the contact details of Zach Hyman and his book agent. Zach— because he knows what it’s like to publish a book. And his agent— well. You know how I asked if you had a brief for your book? Well, I may have asked Hyms to pass it along to his agent and she wants to meet you!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck, I’m so proud. I can’t wait to read your book. Happy birthday, chou.  Love, Tito

She stands there, slack-jawed, just reading the card over again and again until the handwriting on the page blurs. 

“Chou?” Tito’s worried voice asks. His hands come to squeeze her hips as she stands in front of him.

A tear escapes when she looks up at him, breaking the dam. She’s 99% sure it isn’t a pretty cry.

“Chou— Evie, hey!” his voice is increasingly urgent as he quickly grabs the card and paper and puts it to the side. “Woah, please— Please don’t cry. What’s wrong?”

“I— I can’t believe you did this for me,” she gasps out between sobs. 

His hands reach up to wipe her cheeks. “Do what, chou?”

“You— I—” She takes a heaving breath to try to steady out the sobs as she looks down at his furrowed brows. She leans forward, her knees resting against the bed, as she smoothes them down and cradles his cheeks in her hands.

“I’m sorry I’m crying,” she laughs wetly, “I’m very happy. This just happens sometimes. I’m—”

Unable to form any of the words she wants to at that moment, Evie just envelops him in a hug so strong it knocks him back on the bed. 

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” she chants as she crawls into his lap. They both hold each other tightly, unwilling to let go.

After a few minutes, she startles, becoming aware of the position that they've ended up in, and loosens her hold to roll off him. 

Next to her, Tito asks, “You hungry? I was gonna make you some French toast for breakfast.”

Right on cue, her stomach rumbles, and she feels his laughs reverberate in her own chest. He taps her thigh gently, encouraging her to sit up, “Come on, let’s go.”

With an outstretched hand, he pulls her up.

“God, Tito, how are you such a perfect—” She catches herself, thinking back to his card, “How are you such a perfect friend? It’s ridiculous.”

He chuckles tersely. “Practice,” he mumbles. Evie misses the bitterness underlying his tone.

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[olayaxnangyaite]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐀 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 (I), 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝

NETEYAM SULLY x O'LAYA NANGYA'ITE!METKAYINA!OC!

SUMMARY - THEY DO NOT KNOW IT YET, BUT IT WAS LIKE EYWA MADE THEM FOR EACH OTHER AND THE SEA LED HIM TO HER. THE WATER CONNECTED TWO HEARTS THAT LONGED BUT ONLY GAVE THEM BORROWED TIME. 

WORD COUNT: 1.9K ( I AM SO SORRY)

TRACK #1 : SOMEONE NEW by HOZIER

A/N: NO ONE ASKED FOR T BUT HERE I AM FINALLY WRITING THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SERIES THAT HAS BEEN HAUNTING ME FOR WEEKS.

YOU CAN SEE THAT THERE ARE FEW REPRESENTATIONS OF REAL-LIFE CULTURES IN THIS FANFICTION, I FOUND THAT TAKING INSPIRATION FROM THAT VERY BEAUTIFUL CULTURE SOUND JUST RIGHT AND PERFECT TO REPRESENT THE METKAYINA CLAN! JUST TAKE NOTE THAT THOSE MENTIONED ARE FROM A REAL CULTURE! THAT'S ALL :)

I REALLY HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY READING THIS ONE, THE TRACK THAT YOU SEE THERE IS THE THEME SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER ( I recommend listening to it while you read). ANYWAYS, IF YOU EVER RAN INTO AN ERROR OR A TYPO, PLEASE DON'T MIND IT HUHUH JUST KNOW THAT ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. ENJOY READING!

“Just breathe…” Ao’nung whispered into her ear as he guided her arms upon shooting the arrow, he held her arms straight and adjusted her posture.

“Focus. Only look at the target” He let go of her and motioned for her to shoot it, she took one more deep breath and closed one eye, she stretched her arms and gracefully let go of the nock. You can see how swiftly the bolt flew and perfectly pierced the bright red target. O’laya lowered her bow and took a good look at her masterpiece, she grinned and looked back to Ao’nung to see his reaction. He had a proud smile on his face but was soon replaced by a boastful smirk.

“That’s good, but of course, not as good as me” He mocked as smugness filled his ego.

O’laya rolled her eyes and swung her bow up trying to playfully hit him, “Oh yeah? Then what if I-” Before she could take a swing at him a loud longhorn roared throughout the village, stopping everyone in their tracks.

“Maybe next time, O’laya–when you can actually hit me” She scrunched her nose in annoyance and dropped her weapon on its rack.

On their way, they stumbled upon Roxto who was also walking his way to the front. He seemed to have heard of the announcement too.

“What’s going on?” Roxto asked as he walked with them, “Maybe it’s a drill? Or the sky people? I think we need to get our things. At last, after years of training we can finally fight” Ao’nung’s expression was filled with determination, he’s been meaning to make his father proud after all that training the two of them endured.

“Skxawng.” She lightly patted the back of his head which caught him off guard. “Us Metkayinas are not at war, and it will never be. Don’t ever wish that upon the people.” she was grave, with her detested towards the vision of war.

The trio arrived at the shore, where the people gather around something or someone. They walked closer and were surprised to see Na’vis, but distinct.

They approached compelling the crowd to make way. Ao’nung eyed the two kids who seemed to be the same age as them. And of course, the visitors did the same.

As Neteyam paid his respects and also observed the features of this new clan. “Oel ngati kameie” O’laya responded to them and showed hospitality towards the newcomers as she stood beside Roxto and Ao’nung. But Neteyam’s sight lingered on the girl, he couldn't seem to spell it out but he was drawn to her.

Her eyes were as blue as the ocean, her hair was like waves filled with sea shells, and her light skin shimmered against the sun.

Roxto was here throwing questions that seemed to mock the Neteyam and Lo’ak, but Neteyam couldn't care less. Usually, he would defend himself, but this time he couldn't seem to move–it was like he was caught in a trance. It was like he had seen the most beautiful creature there is.

“Ao’nung, Roxto. Enough” She scolded bashing their hands away from them. Tsireya who just arrived, also greeted the visitors. O’laya noticed how her eyes casually glanced at Lo’ak, she let out a titter upon realizing that this is going to be a situation in the future.

O’laya, Tsireya, Roxto and Ao’nung had been friends since the day they all reached the age where they could walk out of their pods and run along the shores and dive with the creatures under the water, so in short, they have known each other since they were kids.

O’laya and Ao’nung usually train together as an order from their fathers, Tisreya and her would practice medicine and healing as a time killer–sometimes they would also teach children to follow their steps as they often look up to them.

After a long process of accepting the Sully family, with Ronal and her critical opinions towards the infamous ‘Toruk Makto’, it was decided. The children of the Metkayina were required to teach them how the reef people work as one. And of course, the two girls were delighted to welcome the Sullys to a new home–Ao’nung on the other hand was forced and demanded to follow his father’s orders.

“Come. I and O’laya will show you the village” Tsireya hovered over the family with delight and a welcoming demeanour. They helped carry the baggage and briefly showed them around the village before leading them to their new home.

“This will be your Marui pod, your new home,” O’laya displayed, carefully placing the baggage down near the entrance. Tsireya gaily accommodated the family while O’laya wait for her at the corner.

Nightfall emphasized the luminous beauty of Awa’atlu. The skies were dark, but the village was alive, the ocean was like fireworks and corals had their different colours. The people were preparing for their supper, it was an annual festival that the Metkayinas perform. It was a way to keep culture humming and alive, it pays respect to the ancestors, and it showcase joy and appreciation towards the gifts and blessings. Looks like the Sullys were just in time, this somewhat serves as a welcoming ceremony. It just so happens that it was also a welcoming ceremony that the Chief arranged.

Roxto, who insisted to invite the Sullys, came to the ceremony with them. The family came and was surprised with the feast and the majestic harmony of the instruments, the solemn pound of the drum and the exquisite flow of the Pūkāea.

Neteyam and the other kids were surely amazed to be awakened to another culture and to open their eyes to a fresh start. They sang with apparent joy on their faces and danced with the wind barefoot on the sand.

The Chief and the Tsahik had arrived not long after, the people announced with lilting to respect their entrance. Behind them were the reef children and followed by O’laya who was at the very back.

Tsireya as the Tsakarem, wore a unique loincloth that was covered with pearls and corals. Ao’nung wore a bright shoulder and waist garment just like his father.

O’laya on the other hand, wore a kelp-like loincloth with braided ends. Hanging pearls and shiny shells would lightly clang as she walked, her hair moderately designed by specifically purple shells. She wore very faint tattoos on her shoulder blades and her neck.

And of course, Neteyam’s focus would soon be on the girl once again. His mouth narrowly agape from the sight, he was denying it in his mind and was trying his best to keep his head away from her. But he just can’t and I don’t think he won’t anytime soon. All the reef people had their unique designs, but for Neteyam, O’laya was simply different. And at this moment, even if Neteyam would restrict himself, he knew, that that girl across the shore would be the end of him.

The ceremony continued and the people feasted on the food that was handmade by the best culinarian in the village. The ceremony was just splendid, it was a night of colours and signing. Tsireya performed as a majestic dancer, side-by-side with O’laya, who sang with her. The men of Metayina, including Ao’nung and Roxto, had performed a very strong and emotional war dance that represented the tribe’s pride.

“Ah…Jake Sully!” Tonowari greeted with enticement, “I see you have met the people. This right here, is Pōwhiri. A welcoming ceremony” he explained with pride for his culture.

“Irayo, Tonowari. This is well appreciated by me–by us family. Thank you” He beamed, with Tuk by his side–who was also amazed by the dancing children.

“zola‘u nìprrte’, Jake Sully.” it was a fatherly conversation that no one intend to listen to, we all know how fathers talk. “Come. I will introduce you to my people.”

After the main event, The people subdued and enjoyed the party to themselves. Tsireya and O’laya parted ways and strolled through the ceremony by themselves. The music was still there, but it was now in a calm that would recreate the relaxing sound of the sea. The background filled with laughter and faint chatter, the people drinking booze and enjoying themselves.

“You should talk to her..” Kiri suggested, eyeing her brother the whole ceremony and noticing how he would constantly look for her. “Huh?” Proving that he was lost in her once again, not even hearing what Kiri had said. “You are no better than Lo’ak” she teased.

“Just look at her, Kiri” His eyes soften at her, and his expression grew calmer. It was like there are visible hearts in his eyes. “Nothing will happen if you just look at her. Talk to her, brother.” Kriri was right, she knew how much head over heels Neteyam was. And it was rare, she had never seen him so focused and so determined to someone.

The boy sighed and grabbed all his courage to follow his sister’s wishes. He pushed himself into the crowd and tried his best to excuse himself to walk to her. And finally, he was now a few feet away from her. She turned in his direction and noticed that he was lingering. O’laya smiled at him and didn't want him to think of her as a snob. Neteyam soon proceeded to her and finally, the two met. “Hey,” Neteyam smiled and stood just beside her.

“Did Ao’nung insist you drink it?” She assumed it was like she already knew what they were up to this whole time. “Yeah, he said ‘To be true Metkayina, you must drink the waipai’” He mimicked the way he talked. O’laya found it hilarious and crackled at his mockery, Neteyam’s tail swang joyfully and was proud to make her laugh effortlessly.

“Neteyam Sully?” She guessed, still not knowing which is which between him and his brother. And he nodded with acknowledgement. “Enjoying the ceremony, I see”

“Yeah. The food is great, Thank you” Neteyam replied, there was a pause after his reply. Rather an awkward silence between them as both didn't know what to talk about. “ did not like the waipai though…” He mentioned,

“I see, I can smell the Waipai on you. When you drink it, everybody could smell it. “ She managed to blurt out. “ yeah, it was too late when I realized he was tricking me.”

During the whole ceremony, Neteyam and O’laya would talk and laugh, sometimes O’laya would almost run out of breath from too much laughter. He would crack jokes and tell stories back from home, some were not even worth laughing at but she did.

The two were lost in their little world, talking about everything, It was the first words they shared but seemed like they have known eachother for too long. A bond of friendship was formed in a matter of just two conversations about how they would train and how important their roles were to their clans.

They were strangers to eachother, someone new. But Neteyam found something in her that he didn’t know that he needed, and that night for him could last forever until- “Neteyam!” a small and childlike voice called out for th boy, cutting off their connection. “Let’s go home” Tuk, who was a few feet away was calling out with the rest of his family.

He looked back at O’laya not wanting to leave her side, waiting for an assurance for him to leave. “Go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She confirmed. He grinned at the thought of seeing her again and soon followed his family.

A/N : OMG THIS WAS FUCKING LONG FOR A FIRST CHAPTER. I DEEPLY APOLOGIZE IF YOU FOUND THIS CHAPTER EXCRUCIATINGLY LONG. I AM ASLSO APOLOGIZING FOR THE TERRIBLE WRITING SKILLS, I AM STILL STARTING ANG I WOULD LOVE TO LEARN AND NOT TO MENTION, THIS CHAPTER IS SLOW BURN AT IT'S SLOWEST. ANYWAYS, I WILL BE POSTING THE CHAPTER TWO VERY SOON, IM ACTUALLY WRITING IT AT THIS VERY MOMENT. IF YOU EVER RAN INTO ANY ERRORS OR TYPOS, DO NOT BE AFRAID TO DM OR MENTION IT TO ME, I WILL BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO CORRECT IT. AND OFC SUGGESTIONS AND REQUESTS FOR THIS SERIES IS AND ALWAYS WILL BE OPEN. MY DMs ARE OPEN SO CHAT ME UP, LETS BE BFFS GUYS MUAH &lt;333333

IF YOU EVER WANT TO BE IN A TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES, PLEASE, PLEASE MY DMS IS ALWAYS OPEN 24/7

[whoblewboobear]

Hiiii!!! 📓

Hellooo hiii~ and OUGHHH Thank u 🥰 

So I pretty much rapid fire throw all my lil fic blurbs that I’ll probably never write on here but one of them that hasn’t entirely gotten its own spotlight is Porter’s backstory/character study. It’s mainly in bits and pieces but I’ve thought about it ALOT. I’ve rattled man around my brain for so long to figure out WHY he’s like that. Sooo I’m gonna scream about what I think his deal is for a lil bit~ A lot a bit actually lmao so it’s going under a read more 🤧✌️

~ The minute Porter was born his parents chose war over him. Handed him off to his grandparents the moment they’d both be able to go straight back into battle to defend the sunstone clan. He was left with his Paternal grandparents where they pretty much raised him like a soldier. He was homeschooled and along side his regular lessons like Common and Math, a lot of history lessons came from his grandfather who was a big war guy. He loaded Porter up on so many texts about wars that have passed, tactics each army used, etc. This is where Porter’s love for history comes in. 

He also learned cooking from his grandma and a little bit of sewing because she believed martial classes should always have their own form of mending in their back pocket. “There wont always be a caster around to do the small stuff.” Porter disagrees heavily in present day. He can sew and it’s a skill he kept up with but he almost exclusively dates casters that don’t mind using a quick mending on some of his things. 

(Jace sees this, realizes this, and then punches Porter so hard in the arm when he finds him sewing a pair of his pants bc “you ask me to mend your clothes all the time! You can sew?!” Jace doesn’t mind but he does give Porter shit about it from now on. But enough about Jace. For once this ain’t about him 😗✌️) 

Porter was definitely way closer to his grandma. She taught him everything she knew about divinity. Very very devout woman. She 100% believed in Ankarna as a goddess of Justice because she thought what the clan was doing WAS justice. With Porter’s grandfather, he makes it very clear during sparring and fighting practice that their goddess is weak and needs to be changed for the better and that Porter could be the one to do it. He has that drilled into him from such an early age too. Like imagine little 12 year old Porter being told “you’ll be the next champion, you will take back what we deserve.” It’s a lot of pressure. The war ended some years ago, but his parents died for this cause. He owes it to them to at least try. 

His clan is mostly in hiding. Somewhere high up in the mountains of chaos. I like to imagine that it’s the Cliffbreakers and a few other giantkin that found a home there. It’s prominent enough but secluded enough that adventurers pass through every now and then to trade or get in a long rest for the night. Porter loves sneaking out and watching them. He’s never seen so many different kinds of interesting and well traveled people before. By the time he’s 16 he’s a little tired of his training. There hasn’t been a war in quite sometime. Adventuring is where the battle is. 

One night the rogue of a visiting party has spied him watching the last few nights and offers for Porter to join. So he does and he likes the conversation and their stories. Their bard sing folk songs that are so new and different from the ones his grandmother used to sing him to sleep with. This is new and exciting and when the party offers for him to join he jumps at the chance. He leaves a letter, steals his dad’s old war hammer, and heads off with them just as dawn is breaking. 

He stays with that party into his late teens. He’s maybe 19 by the time the party raises concerns with their cleric’s closeness to Porter. Truly a fucking scumbag that was pursuing him when they definitely shouldn’t have been. Porter doesn’t see the issue, he’s confused why everyone is fighting about it or why the first person he’s ever been interested in, maybe even loved is being ousted from the group. They sit him down and explain the nuance but he’s a little too young and a little too angry to understand. So he leaves. 

Porter cycles through about 6 other adventuring parties, being messy the entire time too bc he absolutely does date at least one person from every new party he joins. He doesn’t mean to it just sorta happens 🤭 he’s partial to mages. He’s so fascinated by the concept of magic. Sure he’s still in touch with his faith and the little magic he can do because of it is nice but it’s not raw unadulterated power. 

By the time he’s maybe 36 he’s with a been with a sorcerer woman for about 3 years, he’s happy. He loves her, they had a small wedding when they stopped in a quaint and homey woodland town. She helps a lot with his temper when the rage is a little too much. One day she comes to him and says it might be time for them to stop adventuring. He’s confused until she places her hand on her stomach and says they’re having a baby. He’s scared but overjoyed. He loves kids. He used to babysit here and there with his grandma back home. So they do it. They break off from the party and settle in a town not too farm from Elmville.

Porter takes small quests here and there to keep them afloat. It’s not much and it’s not particularly interesting but he’s happy at home. Until he isn’t. After his wife has their baby girl, they’re constantly fighting. Fighting to the point of hurting each other. It isn’t pretty and they try to keep it from their little girl but god the older she gets the more she notices and that’s when Porter and his wife sit down and discuss separating. She tells him he can get settled before they discuss co-parenting and he agrees. He moves to Elmville, finds that the big adventuring high school in town is looking for a barbarian teacher. He feels qualified enough. Maybe it’s the arrogance and the ego talking but he feels like he can do it. So he applies and honestly, it’s such a weird interview. It’s so bizarre. Arthur is so strange but he hires Porter on the spot. With his teaching money he can finally afford an apartment. About a month or so of him getting settled his ex wife calls and says a letter from his grandmother came to the house. Porter made trips back to the mountains every few years but it became a lot less after his grandfather died. It was all a little too difficult for him to be back there. 

When he gets the letter, it’s from the doctor that lives in his childhood community saying that Porter’s grandmother is sick. Not on deaths door sick but sick enough that she needs someone to look after her. It’s not even a question in his mind to move her in with him. He takes care of her and he works, and eventually he starts co-parenting. His life is alright.

Sometime around late freshman year or the summer after his grandmother takes a turn for the worst and passes. It’s a bit much and it’s not fair and his heart hurts so fucking much. And somewhere in his grief he hatches a plan. To become a god and fulfill his role as champion long enough to kill god and take her place. He’ll burn the world to the ground if he has to. To make his family and his ancestors proud.

[lixenn]

Hi lili!!! 👋🏾 Hope you are well! For Chief...!

💔 (broken heart) - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

🪓 (axe) - Does your oc have survival skills? Have they ever had to use them? What would they do in an apocalypse? Could they survive?

Heya Momo! I'm hanging on by a bare thread but I'm still kicking so that's something (I will defeat this thesis, I will kick it to the curb! I will murder it dead <- straight up in denial OTL)

Chief questions! Chief questions!!!

Let's see...

💔 (broken heart) - Who has your character hurt most? Physically or emotionally? How did it feel? Do they regret it?

Well, Dani-boy ain't a saint so he certainly hurt quite a bit of people. As for who he hurt the most, well that's [redacted] Ummm... huh? That's strange... Let me try again. Dan [redacted] ... One time he [redacted]

Whut?

*contacting the nonsense generator*

...

Error 404 Answer not found.

You have entered the spoiler zone. Varia Quality censoring engaged. Please try again at a later date.

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Dan is a solution orientated person. If there's a problem, he tries to fix it. If there's no problem? Well, there will be future ones so he plans ahead. ("Paranoid much Chief?") So you could say he copes with things by planning and scheming and working. He loves lists and graphs, likes sorting his thoughts by writing them down. He will list all the things that could possibly go wrong and then meassures to prevent them or how to react to them. Not really a healthy way to cope with life but when your part of the Mafia where sanity often goes on permanent vacation it can save your ass quite a bit.

When confronted with situations that are not in his plans (aka the newest Varia shitshow) or that simply make him uncomfortable (aka Vlasta's nonsense) then he often shuts down. Dan knows the value of a strategic retreat and he's not afraid to use it.

He also heavily abuses his hard workload as a distraction tactic. What do you mean Ottavio wants to talk to him? Can't you see that he's busy doing budget reports? Come in late (read: never). (There's no time to worry about the high death toll when he's mind is occupied with numbers and to-lists and meetings. Chief is good at compartmentalizing, locking bad memories into boxes and hiding away the key)

To break it down: Dan copes with contingency plans, compartmentalization and just plain noping out of the problem. It's not exactly the healthiest way to cope because he tends to take these methods to the extremes but it could be worse.

🪓 (axe) - Does your oc have survival skills? Have they ever had to use them? What would they do in an apocalypse? Could they survive?

Survival skills huh... bit of a broad term but I will try my best 🫡

Dan knows first aid and hand to hand combat. It was drilled into his head by his parents because they know how dangerous the mafia can be and they wanted him to be equipped to deal with it. (His siblings got the same training, yes even his sister though she isn't a fan of getting her hands dirty). He knows how to make a fire, set up camp and how get food in the wilderness (though his cooking skills are... not up to par, it's enough to survive but not really all that appetizing). Dan learned those skills on various camping trips he went on with his dad, it was their way to bond since Dan loves nature and his dad likes to hunt.

As for the apocalypse... Please, he has contingency plans for an eventual Varia zombie outbreak (he doesn't trust PoisonChem or R&D as far as he can throw them, he wouldn't be surprised if they cook up a zombie virus in their labs. Disappointed? Yes. Surprised? No.) and several other apocalypse scenarios. So as long as it isn't something that insta kills lots of people (aka natural disaster shit) he would be fine. He has a couple safe houses, common sense and knows how to use a shotgun. Also he's just way too stubborn to die because the world's gone to shits. Plus for some reason someone up above (the author) wants to torment him on a daily basis and he's got to be alive for that to happen so yeah...

He'd either be roped into some leadership role in a survival camp or he'd be the grumpy guy in the woods living off the land. Could go either way.

Red emoji oc ask

[onecinder]

Genos's Hero Guide by Saitama

DISCLAIMER: Caped Baldy was requested by the H.A. to write what he knew of his.... disciple/roommate/best friend (as insisted upon by Demon Cyborg) into the format of the Hero Guidebook. Therefore, information might be biased, or a lack of knowledge may be found as it is nigh impossible for them to be that close...

Demon Cyborg Genos

Full Name: Genos

Hero rank: S Class, Rank 14 (Yknow, as much as it is unfair, I’m kinda proud of the kid. Maybe following me around all this time did do something after all, heh.

Age: angsty, emo, brooding teen 19

Gender: Male (There are some rude ppl who keep speculating about what’s down there, and I wish I could shut them all up. It doesn’t matter what’s down there, so long as he feels like a male. Having a blank metal sheet for a crotch doesn’t make him any less of a guy, damnit!)

Race: Human/cyborg (He’s is so adamant about calling himself nonhuman but he IS, he’s just a stubborn brat.)

Height: 178 cm (Why is a literal teenager physically superior to me in every way?!)

Weight: Heavy. Really heavy. I should know, cause I carry his broken body around a lot.

Residence: …Always near me. By near, I mean five feet away or a well-drilled hole in the wall away. Somehow he always finds his way back to me despite me kicking him out? I don’t get it??

Overview

Um, I don’t really know what to write here. I guess he’s a cyborg looking to avenge his family or something. He used to be really angry, but not so much anymore. I’m glad. The kid doesn’t deserve all the bad stuff that’s happened to him.

I’ve had a pretty gross glimpse inside his head after hanging around to see his repairs with Kuseno (I wasn’t THAT worried, okay, I was JUST CURIOUS) – but hey, no biggie, I’ve been splattered with monster guts more times than I can count. Anyway, I’m preeetty sure the only non-metal thing he’s got is his brain.

I asked him once, why he gave up so much. (And of course, he took it way too seriously, heh.) He said Kuseno could actually save him without turning him into a cyborg, but he chose to, to have a chance at defeating the Mad Cyborg.

I couldn’t break it to him that he should have believed in himself and trained till his hair fell out in order to defeat it. I couldn’t break it to him after seeing him spend most of his days following me around like a damn puppy that… he probably won’t ever get as strong as me in a modified body like that.

Personal Life

Personality: Yknow, he’s pretty clingy for a killing machine. But I’ve seen him fight and while he kinda loses all the time, it’s still pretty cool. He’s very aggressive and never gives up on his opponent. I’m proud of him.

I’m also proud of him for not immediately obliterating monsters who can’t fight back. He’s brutal, but not merciless. Even though he’s made of metal and wire, he’s probably more human than me…

Still, he should really chill sometimes. He’s very… passionate. Sometimes I gotta hold him back before he incinerates someone for calling me a baldy. (I should punch him for calling me sensei. But he’s my best friend just a harmless, cute kid, so I’ll allow it.)

Background

Yeah, Genos doesn’t really like talking about it. I should’ve listened more the first time. All I know is that he had a family, they were poor, and they got killed by some monster called the Mad Cyborg. 

I asked him a couple times what he planned to do after he defeated it, but he says he doesn’t have any plans. Honestly, this kind of worries me, because if you dreamed about killing your arch-nemesis wouldn’t you dream about how nice your life would be after it was dead? 

Anyway, it’s great to have a dream for someone as young as him. I guess I’ll stick around, just long enough to make sure the kid doesn’t get himself killed.

Hero Activity

He kind of just disappears for a lot of the day, I dunno what he’s really up to. Fighting monsters and saving people, I guess. Attending big shot S-Class meetings. All that jazz. Without me. (Cue eye roll.)

He’s probably one of the only heroes who actually cares about the stuff that’s being destroyed during fights. He has a good heart. A little creepy though. Do you know he camped outside my apartment, stole my french fry and stalked me before turning up at my doorstep???

Anyway, when he gets home he usually does chores (I know what it looks like but I’m not using him as a slave, okay? I tried to get him to lay off so I could do something useful, but he’s too fucking nice. He needs to learn to set boundaries and learn that people aren’t gonna be as cool as me.) but sometimes if he’s feeling tired he’ll just sit at the desk immediately and stare like a zombie into our laptop. It’s like he’s glued for the next couple hours. What the heck is he doing on there?

Typical teenager.

Fighting style: He’s fast and aggressive, I guess? He’s also pretty feisty but I gotta say, he’s an overthinker. He should stop overanalysing everything and just punch. He’s obsessed with ‘collecting data’, whatever that means.

Dr. Kuseno gives him cool new functions he gets every other week. Like, razor blades in his arms, a flashing core, jets from his hands and feet, lightning cannons, explosives… he’s just. Really cool. And hot. I’m jealous. Why is he so hot?! It’s pretty decent.

He acts like a total teenager, though. He treats his arm sets like a wallet-breaking wardrobe. He has one of those too…

Abilities: Um, Genos doesn’t want me to reveal much. He says that… uh, just let me quote this… “Disclosing such information publicly on a hero’s strengths and weaknesses could potentially sabotage and endanger lives if ending up in the wrong hands.”

Well, you know what I call? BULLSHIT. He’s fucking testing me. I’m his mentor, I should KNOW STUFF. BUT I DON’T. FUCK, that's embarrassing! I have to recall my student memorisation days, cmon, Saitama, think!

• Incineration Cannon

He fires off shots from his hands that burn things! He also uses them to dry our dishes!

• Machine Gun Blows

Oh this one I remember because he named it after one of my moves – Consecutive Normal Punches – so I take full credit. Basically, it’s just a bunch of rapid punches, but cyborg-ified.

(I totally didn’t base Consecutive Normal Punches off a fighting game. But just so you know, it’s a combo move that doesn’t let enemies regen their health.)

• Core

I fucking hate this mechanic and the Doctor should never have built him with this. The kid can use it to self-destruct. How fucked up is that?!!Genos told me it’s his heart. That’s why when we fight together I always protect his chest first.

***

Here's Saitama's version on ao3 if you want to check out an incredibly biased Genos perspective: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56358436/chapters/143194537

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Can I please have a small oneshot on a topic "What does Simon Riley need"? Maybe it's a promotion, or a raise? An apology, maybe? Can be also not so serious, maybe 'steal Soaps practice chanter, so the base can live in peace and silence for at least one evening'. Love-love-love!

Ooooooh I like it! I set it before my fic, I'm sure people are absolutely fed up with finding Riot everywhere.

Also, I can't write short things it seems! Thanks for the ask, I had a lot of fun! <3

''What do you mean, there's nothing else to do?''

Captain Price sighed, looking up from his own paperwork to find Simon's glaring brown eyes fixed on him. The Lieutenant was standing right in front of his desk, arms crossed, his looming, imposing frame almost obscuring the entire view of the office's door.

''Simon, it's a bank holiday. More than half of the privates are on leave, and the training drills are on hold. There's no one to train, no new paperwork, no vehicle needs fixing''

''Give me some of your paperwork then''

Christ, he sounded almost desperate. For someone else, Ghost's voice was as deadpan and inexpressive as always, but for someone who had known him for more than a decade, from before he was Ghost, it was easy to distinguish the little details. The stiffness of his broad shoulders, the way his fingers dug in his own biceps while crossing arms, the way his eyes were almost pleading.

''I'm almost done and I'm leaving, I just have to sign it. And no, you can't forge my signature''

''Well, in fact I can''

Price chuckled, shaking his head and making a show of how he was signing the last paper. Ghost groaned, tempted to just throw his hands in the air, but he simply walked over to the window to look out. The base was eerily silent.

The Captain waited patiently, checking his papers, but in reality he was observing the Lieutenant. It wasn't unusual for them to spend hours in silence in that very office, doing paperwork and sharing a glass of whiskey, sometimes even a cigar. He knew how to deal with Simon, he had done so countless times in the past. He just had to wait.

Sometimes, he even knew how to deal with Ghost.

''I just need something to do'' The younger man muttered at last, his back still to his superior officer.

Price nodded knowingly, tossing the stack of papers on his desk and leaning back on his chair, looking at Ghost.

''Well, there might be something...''

''What is it?'' Simon turned to look at him, not even bothering to hide his anxiety. He needed something, anything to do, to quiet down his mind.

''Soap and Gaz are plotting something in the common room'' Price checked his watch, with a serious face. ''I heard them during breakfast. I didn't quite catch what it was''

''Knowing them, nothing good'' Simon was already thinking of the possibilities, each one grimmer than the last. They could be planning to make the microwave explode. Or maybe fill the room with post-its, one of them had done so to their office, so it wasn't beyond them. Or, God forbid, they could be planning to stuff the sofa's cushions with glitter. They had already done that as well.

''Exactly'' The Captain nodded, observing with satisfaction how Ghost's eyes were already distant, his brain trying to come up with a plan to discover the Sergeants' shenanigans. ''I trust you'll keep an eye on them to make them behave, Simon''

Ghost just grunted. He didn't want to appear thankful or anything, but Price took the sound for what it was, and waved him goodbye while the Lieutenant left the office, his heavy steps echoing in the hallway until they faded in the distance.

*

When Ghost was halfway down the corridor, with the common room's door in his sight already, he could hear it. The microwave. Popping sounds and giggling.

The fucking microwave.

He quickened his pace and threw the door open, ready to sternly tell off both MacTavish and Garrick, only to find them excitedly gathered around the microwave, with an empty bowl and another bowl full of... popcorn.

They were making popcorn.

''Lt!'' Soap's wide grin welcomed him. ''Do you want to join us? We're going to watch a film!''

Even Gaz looked glad to see him. Ghost's eyes narrowed beneath his balaclava.

''What are you plotting?''

''Right now, just to get all the kernel to pop'' Gaz shrugged, still smiling and then watching again the microwave. Both Sergeants were giggling with glee each time there was a loud pop sound coming from inside, and Ghost considered for a moment if they had hit their heads earlier in the day or something.

''Are you sure that's all you're doing?''

''Aye, Lt... There's nothing to do, and most people have left for the holiday. Oi, care to join us?''

The Lieutenant considered his options. He could leave, which was his usual choice, and then the two Sergeants would finally do whatever it was they were planning to really do. Or he could stay, and twart their plans.

''Hmph'' He grunted, nodding gruffly just once. Soap's grin widened, and put the bowl full of popcorn in his hands, and Ghost stood there, not really knowing what to do while the Scott grabbed another.

The microwave started beeping, and he almost stepped back, completely sure that it would explode and that it was all a ploy, but Gaz simply opened the door and opened the bag to drop the hot popcorn in the empty bowl, so that the three of them had a bowl each.

The two Sergeants sat down on the sofa, leaving the armchair for him. That's what Ghost preferred anyway, and the three of them were too big to share the sofa without being all over each other like a pile of rags.

''What are we supposed to be watching?'' The Lieutenant asked, a bit of scorn in his voice, obviously not really believing their story. But Gaz and Soap were just smiling like little, innocent kids while the Scot turned the smart TV on and inserted an USB.

''I downloaded one of the films I used to watch as a kid with my fam, and Gaz used to watch it too! So we thought we'd go down the memory road''

''Murder by Death'' Gaz laughed, his mouth already full of popcorn. ''Have you watched it, Lt?''

''Can't say that I have'' God, even the title was absurd. What did Price think these two idiots would...?

Crap

Price

The fucking old man (only older than him by a few years, but old nonetheless).

Ghost was tempted to stand up and go find Price so he could stuff his throat full of popcorn, but in that moment the film started and Soap and Gaz cheered like two idiots.

He would have smiled if it hadn't been so fucking stupid. But the smell of the popcorn, and the... nauseatingly, pleasantly domestic feeling that was creeping in while he observed the two younger men all giddy...

He'd stay for a bit. Just to make sure they would behave.

*

An hour later, Price was passing through when he heard laughter coming from the common room. Three voices.

One was Soap, laughing hysterically. Gaz's laugh was a bit quieter, but he seemed to be enjoying it just as much. And the third voice...

The Captain stopped in his tracks, just to listen to it a bit more. Simon's laugh, which he hadn't heard in years. He had heard chuckles, snorts, maybe a short barked laugh. But not that belly laugh that Price remembered so fondly and so sadly.

Smiling, he continued his way, satisfied. His own little plot had worked beautifully. He still got it.

[0hboyhowdy]

Prologue

Something small for me to dip my toes into writing :)

A bat family self indulgent insert lol. I've been building up this character in my head since before the pandemic, so this character is near and dear to my heart and I've decided to share as a reader insert for fun. Short for some back story, very little bat fam in this one.

839 words.

(Y/N) was a peculiar child. Nothing immediately alarming, soft eyes and smile. Polite, quiet, raised by their grandparents in a tourist town home to a cryptid legend. An old soul they were called, mature for their age to an off-putting degree. They spoke as if they humbly knew something you didn't know. For as long as they could remember they had a purpose, a nagging feeling in the back of their mind of something they couldn’t quite place.

Age 4, (Y/N) babbled about sounds for days on end. Their earliest memory, watching Papa making lunch in their outdated kitchen while sitting in a high chair and humming a tune only they could hear. The music was soft most days, their head swaying and soothing their mood. They weren’t a fussy baby, but when the music became loud there was nothing they could to do to console them. Distress and anger were volatile emotions in their child, Nan concluded, after picture frames flew off the walls and shelves shook. Her arms pricked and tingled where her bare skin touched (Y/N). Papa took to teaching the piano to soothe their tantrums.

Age 5, Nan brings them out into the woods.

Age 7, (Y/N) became fixated on the weather. Exact amounts of rainfall, clouds in the sky, hours of sun. Before it happened. They often refused to wear light clothes, even on the hottest days they still claimed to feel a chill crawling up their neck. Nan often caught them reaching to rub their neck whenever their weather outbursts occurred.

Age 8, they had exceptional spatial awareness. Nan attempted to catch them off guard numerous times and failed. No matter how quiet, (Y/N) knew. Nan used to get them geared up with her and train in the woods behind their house. Their favorite drill, in which they never lost, involved hunting down their grandmother a half hour after she entered the woods.

Age 9, (Y/N) spoke to themselves often. Their grandparents weren’t surprised by the new development but were wary of other people. On Sunday trips to the flea market, with their yield of corn for sale, they often had to scold (Y/N) for speaking to nothing in front of customers. When pestered once, they told stories of the customers' parents, who had long since passed.

Age 10, (Y/N) was allowed in the forest alone. They came back 8 days later. Pale and bloodied, with a raised red scar across their heart.

Age 12, (Y/N) wakes in a cold sweat months after Papa’s death. Bone-chilling fear coursed through their body as they stumbled out of bed and down the hallway. They knew before Nan, was shown in a dream, but too late to wake up. They found her sitting up in bed, the lamp beside her flickered when they stepped cautiously through the door. Nan spoke calmly, her hardened features now gaunt and dark.

“(Y/N) dear,” Tears silently tread down their face, and she patted the bed beside her “Come sit”. (Y/N) sat by her thigh and took her hand. One note of a piano endlessly rang through the house. “I trust I’ve done the best I could” Nan’s voice was hoarse “I hope my job is complete”. (Y/N) sat staring into her eyes, before being pulled into the longest and only hug they’ve ever received from her. A letter was pressed into their hands. The lamp light flickered out. The room was cold.

The small tourist town of Wester quit receiving sightings of their own urban legend. A stark white face stripped to the bone, large ram horns, razor-sharp talons, and a bipedal beast-like body, that leaves behind corpses of large animals. The Wester Vulture, laid tucked in bed, hair braided and pale-faced. The Wester Vulture sat on a bus with a letter clutched in hand, a suitcase, and a large survival backpack in the seat next to them. Their claw weapons sat at the bottom of the bag

Gotham was child's play compared to the Wester forest. Starving and roaming the streets was nothing compared to really fighting for your life. Homeless shelters were unsafe unless (Y/N) wanted CPS involved. Instead, the Angel of Death traveled the slums at night searching for their father. (Y/N) walked bruised during the day with the ram skull helmet tucked in their bag. They survived for 8 months on their own. Not a very good detective, but greatly intuitive.

The 8 months came to an end, face to face with their dad. A has-been sorcerer versus a vengeful spirit with his ex wife's face and wrath. The fight was long, but the end was quick. Quicker than The Batman, who watched the beast murder in cold blood.

Their claws weren’t fully clean of flesh before Batman engaged. The battle was unlike anything Bruce had experienced in a person, more akin to an animal. Swift and brutal, aiming to kill and forcing him on the defense. Vulture’s brutality was no match for his stronger armor and wealth. Bone helmet was cracked from the mouth, huffing out in frustration. In an instant Bruce was met with the face of a child.