#modern counter-terrorism au

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I’m sorry but the best Jon Snow AUs are those where he is some sort of civil servant. I always see people headcannon him as ROTC/soldier or cop but I think they kind of miss the mark. GRRM has steadily been moving away from the traditional warrior archetype with Jon and more into the counts-pebbles ruler type. So the cannon compliant AUs are the ones where he ends up as some sort of government official. Maybe he could be a city hall manager or an ombudsman. He could be a state representative or maybe even a senator. Let me remind people that he’s the only elected leader in the series. AU!Jon Snow would totally be the extremely competent but also extremely depressed congressional representative from like, idk, Alaska.

[wftc141]

Voltron: Global Military Intelligence and Counter-Terrorism Unit-Chapter 14: Search for White Tiger

28/04/2018

Colombia

Another fist landed on his face as Halliday’s vision flashed to what was left of the room’s light. Tasting metal in his mouth, Halliday held his tongue. Torture wasn’t new to him and he had his fair share of being tied to a chair before some paranoid terrorists during his service. The pain was part of the package and so is a swollen eye and the loss of two of his fingers from yesterday. 

Halliday looked up at the man giving him a thrashing, a muscular and tatted-up lieutenant sporting a mustache and a nasty look in his eye. There wasn’t much he could do, considering he was tied to a chair. The lieutenant reached for the tools on the table, settling on a blowtorch. His blood-covered hands lit up the blowtorch, a light yet scorching flame coming out of the barrel.

“You know how this works.” the lieutenant snarled. “You’ll be having another bad day if you keep up this game of yours.”

“I already told you, ya muppet.” Halliday growled, spitting blood at the lieutenant’s feet. “I ain’t telling you a bloody thing.” 

“Enough.”

The voice was enough to catch the lieutenant’s attention. A bloody miracle, to Halliday’s surprise. A figure stood by the door in the shadows. Halliday couldn’t make him out through the light. As the figure approached the lieutenant, he became much clearer. The light-skinned man looked like he came out of a fundraiser for an election, sporting a three-piece suit without a blazer, sleeves neatly rolled up and a tight bun.

“Enough?” The lieutenant curled his lips. “Why? This pinche cabrón killed my men and he won’t spill as much as a breath!”

The man ignored the lieutenant, brushing past him as he approached Halliday.

“Like I told your mate here. I ain’t tellin’ you shit.” Halliday hissed.

The well-dressed man smirked. “There’s no need for that, Lieutenant Damon Halliday.” The British accent caught his attention. “I’m well aware of who you are. Former SAS and now, a Voltron operative that handles off-the-books operations for NATO.”

Halliday went quiet. He couldn’t find the words. This man knew more than he had anticipated and if anything, he may know about his team as well. The man then turned around and glared at the lieutenant.

“You really thought it was wise to bring him here?” He asked.

The lieutenant scoffed. “Relax. We left without a trace.” 

The man then turned back to Halliday with skepticism glowing in his eyes.

“I doubt that.”

________________________________________

29/04/2018

0750 Hours

Colombia

Upon landing in the forest, Shiro and Lance scan the area as they slowly move through the jungle. 

“Zero, this is Blue Lion, how far am I from Red’s position, over?” Lance asked on the radio. 

“Blue Lion, you should be right on top of him, over.” Allura answered from the comms.

“Found him.” Shiro said from behind.

Lance turned towards Shiro who was looking up. Lance followed his eye direction. Above them, Keith was hanging on a tree with his parachute stuck among the branches. Lance began to chuckle.

“That is rich.” Lance said in between his laughs. “Yo, Keith! How’s it hanging?”

“Ha, ha. Fuck you.” Keith flipped Lance the bird, which only made him laugh further in response.

“You need help, Keith?” Shiro asked.

“No, sir.” Keith shook his head as he reached for his knife. “I got it.” 

Eventually, Keith managed to break free from his suit, falling to the ground with a loud thud. 

“Thought the Rangers are supposed to be good at this.” Lance said.

“Fuck off.” 

“Alright, that’s enough, you two.” Shiro cut in, grabbing Keith and Lance’s attention. “We gotta move. We’re meeting up with the Ground Branch team. Keith, get geared up. You got five.”

“Rog.”

As Keith went through his gear up from his pack, Shiro reached for the radio.

“Zero, this is Black Lion. We have found Red Lion and are about to proceed to Hunter’s position, out.”

________________________________________

Allura, Coran, Jeb and Stacy observe the footage from the drone video cam tracking Shiro, Keith and Lance’s positions. Allura notices Coran’s troubled expression, knowing how close he and Lieutenant Halliday are, hoping his friend is still okay. Allura thought about assuring him until Kolivan approached her.

“Your team’s on the ground?” Kolivan asked.

“Yes, Kolivan. They’re on their way to Hunter’s position.” Allura answered.

Kolivan nodded, although Allura noticed his expression was telling a different story.

“Is everything alright?”

He let out a sigh. “There’s something that you should know about Hunter 1 and I… I already told Sergeant Holt about him.”

Allura looks at Kolivan, confused. “Told her about what?”

________________________________________

Later, Keith and Lance continue to make their way to their designation through the jungle as the sun is slowly rising. The three move cautiously to avoid any possible traps or avoid patrols. 

“So uh, these Ground Branch dudes,” Lance whispered, earning a turn from Shiro as a response. “Are they gonna be cool working with us or are they just a bunch of smartass shitstains?” 

“They’re under Kolivan’s command so they should be fine.” Shiro replied.

“I don’t know, man. Spooks are usually buncha arrogant assholes with fat egos and don’t get me started on the SADs.”

“I have to agree with Lance,” Keith steps in. “These guys are black ops. Who knows how they’ll treat us?”

“Well until then, we’re a team.”  

The three continue to walk through the jungle in silence until-

“Don’t move.” 

The group froze as the bushes behind them rustled. Three masked figures emerged from the bushes, surrounding the group though they kept their rifles trained on each other. Keith and Lance, covering the rear, trained their weapons on two of the figures while Shiro had his on the woman. There was a brief but tense pause between the groups before one of the figures behind him spoke.

“Stone… ”

Shiro slightly glanced over. He recognized the code word as one of the many phrases that CIA operatives use to identify each other. However, it was possible that this could be a trap from their attackers who somehow learned their language. But the possibility was less likely since the voice was somewhat familiar to him.

“Stone…” The figure repeated.  

“...Mountain.” Shiro finally said.

The woman in front of him lowered her rifle, as well as the figures behind him. “Whoever answered, turn around.” The voice ordered.

Once Shiro complied and turned around to face the figures, one of the figures in woodland gear scoffed in disbelief before pulling his mask down. Shiro’s mouth dropped as he recognized him as someone whom he thought he’d never seen again.

“Matt?” Shiro said.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Matt cocked his head sideways. “If it ain’t the Great Shiro.” 

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you. I thought you left Voltron behind. Didn’t expect you to come back.” 

“Things have changed.”

Matt takes a thought and then starts to put the pieces together as to why Shiro is back in Voltron.

“You came back for her, didn’t you?”

Shiro didn’t answer as he knew Matt was right, especially with how he reacted to Allura being taken hostage in Pakistan a few months ago.

“Thought so,” Matt scoffed. “Come on. Let's go save your guy.”  

Matt and his ground branch team start to walk off while Keith, Lance and Shiro are hesitant at first before following. Shiro felt guilty when he saw Matt again but as a Voltron operative. Keith and Lance were confused when they saw Matt as they knew a semblance of a certain person from their group. 

“Is it me or does that guy look a lot like Pidge?” Lance said.

“That’s because Matt is Pidge’s brother.” Shiro explained. 

Keith and Lance were left speechless when they realized that Matt is Pidge’s brother. Keith remembered Pidge talked about her brother being Shiro’s comrade from the SEALs but never thought that he would look a bit like Pidge and never thought that he was in Voltron. 

“Come on.” Shiro ordered. “We gotta move.”

________________________________________

Back at the hideout, Pidge is in the hallway laying her back on the wall with a doubtful look on her face as she has a lot on her mind.

“Pidge?”

Turning to her right, she noticed Hunk standing there with a worried look on his face.

“You good?” He asked.

Pidge looked away. “Not really.” 

“What’s wrong?”

Pidge let out a deep sigh.

“Kolivan told me that my brother Matt is there in Colombia leading Team Hunter.” 

Hunk’s mouth opened in surprise. “Your brother’s CIA?”

“News to me too.” Pidge replied. “Kinda explains why I’ve never heard from him for years. Now I don’t know how he’ll feel about me working for Voltron.”

“Maybe he's proud of you.”

“Doubt that.”

Hunk then starts to piece it together as he knows what Pidge is going through.

“Problems back home?”

Pidge silently nodded. Hunk sighed as he approached Pidge and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Listen,” Hunk said. “Even if we cross paths with him, just know that you’re still the same Pidge I know. The one who can fight and protect her team. Hell, you were the one who carried my ass outta danger when I got shot.”

“I wouldn’t say that counted since you got captured by the Galra anyway.”

“Kinda thankful for that. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t have met Shay and she and those women wouldn't have gotten saved.” 

Pidge gives out a nod with a haft smile as Hunk did make a good point if Hunk wasn’t captured by the Galra. 

“So how are things with Shay?” Pidge asked.

A small blush crept up to his face as Hunk gave a knowing smirk. “Oh, we are going strong, alright. If you know what I mean.”

A chuckle slipped out of Pidge’s mouth as she bumped his arm, prompting a laugh from Hunk. “Okay, I get your point.”

Hunk took a moment to calm himself. “In all seriousness, Shay’s wonderful and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“That’s great to hear, Hunk. Wish you all the best.”

“Thanks…and I hope things work out between you and your brother.”

________________________________________

The team reached the cartel’s hideout where they may be keeping Halliday. Matt and Shiro looked through their binoculars to scope out any guards in the area but found nothing.

“Something’s not right.” Matt stated.

“No guards, no patrol…” Shiro stated. “I hope we didn’t tip them off.”

“And there better not be another mole inside us.”

Shiro gives out a sigh.

“So you know about Brazil?” Shiro asked.

“Yeah.” Matt answered. “Special Activities would’ve long figured out that Sanda was under Galra’s hand but my boss handed it to Voltron, now look how that turned out.”

“At least we stopped them from killing the Triple Frontier government.” Lance said. 

“But this should’ve been stopped sooner.”

Shiro sighed. “Yes but we should focus on our mission. Lance, stay here and provide overwatch.” 

“You too, Hunter 3.” Matt ordered.

“Copy.” Both Lance and Hunter 3 responded.

Shiro and Keith made their way to the hideout along with the rest of Matt’s team while Lance and Hunter 3 got into position. Once the team got close to the house, they noticed two dead guards on the ground. They even noticed that they were shot from inside of the house.

“Black Lion to Zero, Lion and Hunter team are at target compound and ready to make entry.” Shiro reported to his radio. 

Hunter 2, taking point, opened the door and the team stormed the hideout. As the team were clearing the rooms, they noticed the lack of shooting or voices from either room or even in this building. No voices were being heard as the team found more dead sicarios as they were sweeping the house. 

“Fucking hell.” Hunter 2 muttered as she noticed a sicario with two holes in the head.

The team were finding themselves with more questions than answers as they investigated further, finding  more evidence of dead cartel members. Whatever happened here, the team must’ve missed a gunfight. The corpses’ trail led to a room up ahead. The team entered the room and froze upon seeing what was inside.

“Shit.” Shiro swore under his breath.

The team found what they’ve been looking for but not what they were hoping to find as their fears turned true. 

“Call it in.” Shiro said to Keith.

Keith tapped into his comms. “This is Red Lion to Zero. We have visual on White Tiger. Status KIA. Repeat, White Tiger is KIA.”

[kjack89]

The Wikipedia Page

For the Hoeshold <3

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship, all shenanigans.

“Can you fucking believe this?” Enjolras said, incredulous, staring down at his phone.

Combeferre sighed the long-suffering sigh of a man who was about to enter into a conversation he knew he would deeply regret. “For the billionth time,” he said, with the patience of a saint, “when you’re looking at your phone, I can’t see what you’re looking at.”

Enjolras scowled and thrust his phone at Combeferre. “Here,” he said shortly. “Look at this shit.”

Combeferre glanced down at the phone, his brow furrowing. “It’s a Wikipedia page for – oh.”

Enjolras nodded grimly. “Yeah,” he said. “Exactly. Someone made a fucking Wikipedia page for me.”

“Of you, more like,” Combeferre murmured, scanning the page with an almost academic interest. “And not a very good one. Some facts are wrong.”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened and he yanked his phone back. “So now they’re just making up lies about me?” he seethed as he scanned the article. His own brow furrowed and he glanced up at Combeferre. “I don’t see anything inaccurate here.”

Combeferre frowned and took Enjolras’s phone back. “Well, for starters, it says you’ve been brought up on charges of domestic terrorism—“

“Which is true,” Enjolras interjected.

“You’ve been accused of domestic terrorism, but never indicted,” Combeferre corrected. “Thankfully for everyone involved, there’s a bit of a difference.”

Enjolras smirked. “You and the US Attorney’s office would probably disagree on that.”

“Secondly,” Combeferre continued, the long-suffering tone of regret back in his voice, “it says that you graduated from Harvard in 2016.”

Enjolras suddenly seemed unable to meet Combeferre’s eyes. “Oh,” he said. “Right.”

Combeferre’s eyes narrowed. “And of course,” he said, “you were kicked out of Harvard your senior year.” He paused before adding pointedly, “Right?”

“About that,” Enjolras started, and Combeferre gave him a look.

“You really lied about getting kicked out of Harvard?”

Enjolras’s face was roughly the same color as his usual hoodie. “I mean, I did get in trouble,” he mumbled, “and I wasn’t allowed to attend graduation.”

Combeferre rolled his eyes. “Because that’s even remotely the same thing.”

Enjolras’s flush deepened, and he quickly attempted to change the subject. “At least that narrows it down somewhat as to who created this asinine Wikipedia page,” he said, “since very few people know about Harvard.”

“Pretty sure it doesn’t take a genius to contact the alumni office and put two and two together,” Combeferre said dryly.

“But that would require someone to know my full legal name,” Enjolras countered. “And that list is even smaller.”

“Well, while you obsess over who put this page together, I’m going to be over here reconciling the fact that you’ve been lying to me for the past nine years,” Combeferre muttered.

Enjolras looked shame-faced before he paused, his own eyes narrowing. “Hang on,” he said. “You’ve done background checks on every single one of us, myself included, and this absolutely would’ve shown up.”

“So?”

“So what are you actually mad about, since you’ve known all along?” Enjolras didn’t even wait for Combeferre to answer. “You had a bet going for how long it would be before I came clean.”

He didn’t pitch it as a question, and Combeferre didn’t bother with a denial. “Yeah, and if you’d have held it together for another year, I’d’ve won,” he said sourly. “I took the over on a decade.”

“Do I even want to know how many of you were in on this bet?” Wisely, Combeferre stayed silent and Enjolras groaned and put his head in his hands. “Maybe no one will see it?” he said, a little desperately. “After all, our friends have lives, or at least better things to do than stalk Wikipedia.”

Combeferre made a small noise of dissent. “Has our conversation taught you nothing about underestimating our friends?”

Enjolras just sighed heavily. “Then maybe they’ll go gentle on me.”

“And now I think you’re overestimating our friends.”

— — — — —

By the time of the meeting that night, everyone had seen the Wikipedia page. And seemingly, it was all any of them could talk about.

“Can we all just agree,” Courfeyrac said, with actual tears of mirth running down his face, “that it was a stroke of absolute genius to title a section, ‘Personal Life’ and then leave it as ‘This section is being created, or is in the process of extensive expansion or major restructuring’?”

“Personally, I’m a huge fan of the blind quote they used in the section on his politics,” Bossuet said, grinning.

“Where Enjolras is described as, and I quote, ‘so far left that he’s basically circled back around to authoritarianism’?”

Joly sounded positively gleeful, and Bahorel guffawed loudly. “Isn’t that what that idiot wrote about Enjolras in The Epoch Times?”

“That’s how it made it on the page,” Jehan said helpfully. “There was a news story a few years back about an author who couldn’t get her Wikipedia page updated to reflect her divorce until she stated it in an interview.” Bahorel gave him a look of surprise and Jehan shrugged. “I did some amateur Wikipedia editing back in college.”

Enjolras sighed heavily, staring determinedly at the ceiling. “Can we please,” he said through clenched teeth, “talk about literally anything else?”

Naturally, everyone ignored him. 

“I really feel like we’re overlooking the best part,” Feuilly said. “Which, of course, is the bit where his personality is described as, quote, ‘has many red flags’.”

“The question, of course,” Combeferre interjected for the first time, “is if the page is referring to Enjolras’s collection of physical flags that are red, or his many charming personality traits that many could consider red flags.”

“Traitor,” Enjolras said through clenched teeth.

“I think the real question is whether someone—” Joly didn’t bother with subtlety as he nudged Grantaire while emphasizing the word ‘someone’. “—would consider the amount of red flags to be a red flag.”

Grantaire pretended to consider it. “I can only speak for myself, but I’d call it a beige flag.”

Enjolras ground his teeth together hard enough to make his dentist weep, glaring at Grantaire. “You’ve been awfully quiet until that little quip.” 

Grantaired leaned back in his seat in a somewhat self-satisfied way, raising his beer bottle in a mock toast. “There is such a thing as gilding the lily, and frankly, I’m not sure I could top this.”

“That has literally never stopped you before.”

Grantaire just winked at him, and Enjolras sighed. “Very well,” he said, resignedly, aiming for dignified and falling drastically short. “You all keep having fun at my expense, but if we’re not going to get any work done, I’m going home.”

He gathered his stuff in a huff and marched out with his head held high. At least, that’s what he told himself, though in reality, he probably looked more like a petulant child stomping away from the playground to take his ball and go home.

He had sulked his way about half a block away from the Musain when Grantaire called, “Hey, wait up.”

Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, scowling. “Come to mock me some more?”

“Arguably speaking, we’re all making fun of the Wikipedia page,” Grantaire reasoned as he fell into step next to Enjolras.

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “Which is clearly making fun of me.”

Grantaire cleared his throat delicately. “If you’d like to count yourself amongst those who take offense to the truth…”

“Asshole,” Enjolras said, but for some reason, his foul mood was lifted, at least slightly.

Grantaire glanced sideways at him. “So, uh, dare I ask why, exactly, a Wikipedia page posting mostly accurate information about you has got a stick so far up your ass you can taste wood?”

Enjolras snorted. “Poetic.”

“I try,” Grantaire said. “But seriously, the reaction does seem a bit over the top. If it was Courf, sure, I’d expect this level of histrionics, but you’re normally a better sport about this sort of thing.”

“That may be the nicest thing you’ve ever said about me,” Enjolras said mildly.

“Probably because I’m lying, you’re a notorious drama queen and frankly, I’m surprised that little detail didn’t make your Wikipedia page,” Grantaire said cheerfully, and Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his bark of surprised laughter. “That being said, clearly something about it is bothering you, and I figured buttering you up might help.”

Enjolras’s smile faded. “Honestly?” he said. “What I’m most upset about is that it’s about me, with barely a footnote about our work.”

“Right,” Grantaire said. He glanced at Enjolras again. “And naturally, that upsets you because…?”

“Because it’s not about me!” Enjolras burst, his frustration spilling over. “Because it’s never been about me. The whole point of quasi-anonymity is that anyone could be me. Anyone could step into this role and try to change the world.”

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “And you called me poetic,” he said. Enjolras didn’t smile and Grantaire nudged him gently with his elbow. “I think you’re forgetting that while you may have been aiming for anonymity, you’re still an incredibly recognizable figure who hasn’t exactly been camera-shy.”

“Sure, my face may be well known, but not my name, and certainly not my face and my name together,” Enjolras said hotly.

Grantaire was quiet for so long that Enjolras had to look over at him to make sure he was still there. Then, Grantaire shook his head. “The rare valid point,” he said, more to himself than Enjolras.

Enjolras just sighed. As much as he had planned on sulking for the rest of the night, he was finding it more and more difficult with each passing step, as if just venting about it had made it slightly better.

Or maybe that was more about who he’d been venting to.

“Anyway,” he said bracingly, “I’ll get over it, I just need to, you know, feel my feelings.”

“And you’re being very brave about it,” Grantaire assured him. 

Enjolras laughed again. “Well, you can head back to the Musain.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dare,” Grantaire said solemnly. “You’re in a fragile state of mind. I better make sure you get home safely.”

Even though Enjolras rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, just slightly. “You’re missing out on some prime comedy.”

Grantaire winked at him. “You forget,” he said smugly, “I’ve got a phone with 5G and an entire walk to do a dramatic reading.”

Enjolras groaned. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“That’s for me to know and you to spend the rest of your walk worrying about.”

“Asshole,” Enjolras repeated, but he was laughing.

And besides, he suspected Grantaire wasn’t serious.

— — — — —

Over the next few weeks, things with Enjolras’s Wikipedia page took a turn – for the weird.

Despite Enjolras’s multiple attempts to get the page shut down, it continued on its merry way. And worse, it kept being added to by the same anonymous Wikipedia editor who had created it. But bizarrely, while it had originally been mostly accurate, it was quickly becoming flooded with complete bullshit.

Each new edit brought with it a different fabricated detail about Enjolras, some of which were close to the truth (“Enjolras came out publicly via instagram post in the lead-up to the Obergefell ruling” – Enjolras had come out publicly in the tenth grade via Facebook, or, if he was being truly specific, in 2nd Grade when Kaitlyn H. had tried to kiss him and Enjolras had screamed and hidden in the classroom closet), and some of which were just completely wrong (“He wrestled in high school as a heavyweight, weighing in at 250 pounds” and “Described as shorter than average (5’6”) with shoulder-length brown hair, police have been actively searching for Enjolras and his associates for almost a decade”).

Well, that last bit was true, but not so much the description.

Which, based on Enjolras’s now extensive knowledge of Wikipedia’s editing rules, was how whoever was editing his page was getting away with it: by linking to news sources that were also incorrect. For instance, his instagram post had been falsely called his coming out by The Advocate’s round up of notable activists. The story about wrestling was a hilarious mix-up of a picture of Enjolras from a riot with a caption about a high school wrestler in the local paper. 

And so on and so forth – each edit was painstaking in being both false and, somehow, verifiable. Which would have been brilliant if it hadn’t given away the entire game.

Because a few days later, one final falsehood was posted. 

And there was only one other person in the entire world who knew this one.

“Enjolras’s first brush with the law came in high school, when he was charged as a minor in possession of alcohol, but his father allegedly asked the local authorities to drop the charges,” Enjolras said without preamble, brushing past Grantaire into his apartment.

“Normally I’m really good at keeping up with your trains of thought,” Grantaire said mildly, closing the front door. “But I will need some additional context.”

“My MIP,” Enjolras said, glowering at Grantaire. “The one that I told you about in confidence because you had confided in me about your struggles with drugs and alcohol—”

“That’s a very polite way of putting it,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras ignored him. “The one that only you knew about. Somehow it ended up on my Wikipedia page.”

Grantaire looked a little bit like he wanted to bolt out the door he’d just closed. “Combeferre might have found it in your background check,” he said weakly.

“No, because the charges were dismissed, but not because of my father,” Enjolras said impatiently. “Which means the only person it could’ve been was you.”

Grantaire paled but didn’t try to deny it, and Enjolras took a deep breath before saying, “And which means the only question that I have is why.”

“It wasn’t supposed to go live,” Grantaire blurted.

“What?”

Grantaire worried his lower lip between his teeth. “The Wikipedia page. It wasn’t supposed to be published.”

Enjolras blinked. “So it was you.”

Even though he had known it, he hadn’t really reconciled himself with it until hearing it more or less confirmed. Grantaire nodded. “It started as a joke,” he said. “We’d had a fight, I don’t even remember what about, and you said my sources were one rung below Wikipedia. So I figured, y’know, I’d show you what Wikipedia’s sources are like.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Which was for the best, since Grantaire barreled onward. “I never actually intended on publishing it, but I clicked the wrong button and didn’t even notice until, well, you did. And at that point, putting the genie back in the bottle was pretty much out of the question.”

“But then—” Enjolras broke off, still struggling to put his thoughts into anything resembling coherence. Of the million questions he had, the only one he could manage was, “Why all the edits?”

Grantaire shrugged. “It occurred to me that I could at least use this accidental platform for some good.”

“And there’s some good in telling the whole world that I’m 5 foot 6, 250 pounds and have shoulder-length brown hair?” Enjolras said dryly.

“I mean…” Grantaire shrugged again. “I figured it may help the FBI in their search for you.”

He said it innocently, and Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And why the hell would they believe that description?”

“Why wouldn’t they?” Grantaire said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “After all, it’s on Wikipedia.”

Enjolras couldn’t quite stop his own smile as realization hit. “You laid quite the convincing trail of inaccuracies for them.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Well,” he said, “never let it be said I did nothing for the Cause.”

“For the Cause?”

Grantaire met his eyes, his smile crooked. “For the only cause I believe in, anyway.”

There were a great number of things that Enjolras could say to that, but there was only one thing he wanted to do.

And so he did, closing the space between him and Grantaire, reaching out to tip Grantaire’s chin just slightly upward to kiss him. Grantaire’s hand closed in his shirt, pulling him even closer as his mouth opened against Enjolras’s with a sigh.

Suddenly, Grantaire laughed, his lips curving into a grin against Enjolras’s. “Who knew a fucking Wikipedia page was all it would take,” he said, with something like wonder.

“Please,” Enjolras murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “If you’d’ve tried this even six months ago, I would’ve just kicked your ass.”

“So what’s changed?”

So much more than Enjolras could ever articulate, the least of which was that he finally had tangible evidence of just how dedicated Grantaire could be – when it was something he cared about, at least.

But he settled for saying, after kissing Grantaire’s once more, “My height and weight, apparently.”

Grantaire laughed. “Yeah,” he said, “I suppose there is that.”

“By the way?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, his voice barely a whisper.

“If I see anything about this on Wikipedia, I really will kick your ass.”

Grantaire just laughed again. “Deal.”

— — — — —

The next day, there was a single addition to the Wikipedia page:

Spouse: Patria (m. 2023)

[bombshelllblonde]

in honor of my recent disney trip:

rdr2 walt disney world modern au headcanons

(this accidentally got posted to my lesbian sex account so if you saw that…no you didn’t 🤠🥸)

-dutch is mad that the trip got booked in the first place. he is not a large crowd disney guy. he’s a “i need to sit with my back against the wall and plan our escape route” man. he is very angry that weapons are not allowed. it’s too expensive and he’s mad that they used the camp funds to pay for it.

-hosea is the disney dad. backpack full of snacks, sunscreen, cooling rags, the handheld fans that spray water, the batteries to replace the old ones in the handheld fans. you need tylenol? he’s got it. you’re lost and need to find the way to tomorrowland? he’s got the disney magic experience app up and ready for you. he has the itinerary written out perfectly and everyone has a copy. he has all the routes mapped out and he bought one of those “disneys best kept secrets” books. he used dutch’s credit card

-charles only ever wants to be in animal kingdom. he has the best luck with all of the animals; his calm presence always brings out everyone from their hiding spots. he knows all the fun facts about the animals and all the little kids think he works there, so he answers everyone’s questions. some disney parents want to give him a cast member compliment/shout out on the app but he just shrugs and says he doesn’t work there

-arthur is the head counter. he didn’t really want to go because he thought it was silly, but he is the one who is watching out for everyone. he assigned everyone a number in his head and he’s making sure they are all accounted for. when jack gets tired he throws him up onto his shoulders, and always has a cold water bottle available for any of the girls when they get too hot or thirsty

-john is all for the lightening lanes and scouring the app for the best rides. he forgets to add other people until abigail reminds him, but basically he has been booking himself on the big rides like tron, rockin roller coaster, tower of terror, etc. when he mentioned that he got the rides, arthur asked how many people he got them for and john only said he got a lightening lane for himself. abigail took his phone and john wasn’t allowed to use the app anymore

-javier is enamored with the princesses. he sees them all and isn’t creepy about them, but he thinks they’re all beautiful. jack isn’t interested in meeting the princesses at all so javier just sees them from afar and waves. he did walk by jasmine and he spoke spanish to her and made her swoon a little.

-in all the parks they have cooling stations where it’s just a giant machine that blows out cold misty water to cool down children. bill commandeered it. cast members have kicked him out but he manages to sneak back after shift change

-sean has been making sure that he takes jack to meet all the characters. he says he really wanted jack to meet timone from lion king, but in all honestly he and kieran made a bet to see if sean talked enough smack if timone would punch him in the face or not

-trelawny cries every time at the happily ever after fireworks in magic kingdom. he gets so many emotions and feels overwhelming joy at even the small parades (no i’m not projecting my own feelings onto trelawny rn 🙃)

-gaston flirts with ms grimshaw and it actually makes her blush. dutch feels rage and jealously almost immediately

“oh dutch he’s just playing a character!”

“susan, i don’t like the way he is speaking to you!!”

[willysnylander]

Hello - this is a bit out of the blue but tumblr just served me the 🌹 snippet you shared for the marcheron curse au a few days ago thru the tag (which I follow) and it looks so delicious, I'd love to know more about it! As well as whether you have fic for them on ao3 👀 (can you tell that I'm a bit of a vacuum for the two of them heheh 😅)

hiiii!! sorry for the late answer (😅), but yes, i’d be more than happy to tell you about the fic!

so, of course, being a curse fic, this takes place in a sort of modern with magic au. it starts out with the bruins having just won a home game against the flyers (sorry, flyers fans, this fic is not exactly kind to you), and they’re all about to crash into the locker room to debrief and get to celebrating when patrice, one of the only players on the team who’s a magic-user, senses the presence of a curse hanging over the locker room. a bad one. there’s much panic that follows this, of course - assuming that the curse has been cast over the locker room itself, and knowing that curses cast over a location will just randomly attach itself to people who enter the space he gets the few players who went into the locker room ahead of him back over the threshold, blocks the entrance for the rest of the team, and after explaining the situation since most of the team is confused and concerned as to how he’s acting (brad most of all, naturally), gets someone to run and get one of the trained team mages so they can diffuse the curse.

only, they have a weird amount of trouble doing it. there are several tried-and-true methods that can diffuse any spell cast over a location, curse or not, as long as it hasn’t already attached to someone, but it takes a while for any of them to work when the team mages try them. eventually, though, the energy of the curse is gone from hanging over the locker room, so everyone figures one of the dissipation rituals must have worked and patrice can finally relax. and if he gets a weird, sickly feeling in his stomach as he’s saying goodnight to brad, a feeling that somehow seems like his inner magic trying to tell him something, well, he ignores it, because the curse is gone now, right?

but then, the next morning when he’s getting ready to leave for practice, brad doesn’t text him like he usually does. and when he gets to the garden, already a bit late because he’s been worrying about brad not texting him, he’s told that brad hasn’t shown up yet either, and suddenly, like his inner magic slapping him in the face, the odd feeling he got last night makes sense. the curse hadn’t been cast over the locker room - it had been cast on brad, but since the caster couldn’t get to him personally, they’d cast it in the locker room and let it wait to get hold of him. that’s why none of the team mages’ rituals worked, and the only reason they thought they’d worked was because the curse had latched onto its intended target.

and so patrice, now filled with horror at what a curse that had felt that bad against his own magic might be doing to his best friend, rushes straight back out of practice and to brad’s house, only to find him curled up on his bedroom floor, running a fever and seeming to be having horrifying hallucinations that have him crying and alternating between begging somebody to stop and telling them he’s sorry for something that patrice can’t figure out. panicking yet again, he calls linus, another of the team’s magic-users, and tells him what’s going on. after a break while linus confers with the team mages and patrice attempts to care for brad when he has a break of lucidity, only to start hallucinating again soon after, linus gets back to him… only to tell him that brad has been struck with one of the worst curses imaginable, one that leaves the victim hallucinating their worst fears until their body gives out from sheer terror - and one that has no known counter-curse or cure.

and so patrice is left in brad’s house, trying to keep him alive and as comfortable as possible given the circumstances while the team’s magic-using players and mages attempt to figure out a way to get rid of the curse. and all the while, patrice is left thinking about how the one guaranteed way to get rid of any curse, no matter how bad, is through true love’s kiss, something that’s so rare it’s barely even tried as a counter-spell.

he’s also left thinking about the fact that he’s been in love with brad for years, and wondering if it would be worth the heartbreak to try the cure if brad doesn’t love him back.

and to answer your question, no, i sadly don’t have any fic on ao3 for them yet (😔). i’m still relatively new to hockey, but i am working on quite a few wips right now, so hopefully this and other marcheron fics will be up on my ao3 soon!

thanks so much again for the ask, and i hope you’re doing well!! <3

[tinyzoologist]

Um… who let me watch The Bear and The Terror in the same week? Anyway. Welcome to Hickey’s cursed little sandwich shop, where the prices are low and the meat is… something! 

modern AU, 556 words.

cw: implied cannibalism, fantasized violence, all around creepy behavior. 

He sees her through the frosted glass of the shop window. Must be 12:15, then. Every day, like clockwork - wrapped in fur, eyes like frozen concrete. Never speaking and never alone.

“Henry, check the walk-in for extra lettuce, yeah?” Hickey calls over his shoulder, honey-sweet and not a moment too soon. Can’t have Goodsir sniffing around behind the counter, making those big sad eyes at one of his only regulars. Not like Hickey’s still got him chained up in the basement overnight. Not like it’s his fault med school dropouts are pretty damn excellent at cutting meat. Goodsir could leave - so far he hasn’t. And Silence doesn’t need to come and get her lunch here every day - and yet she’s jingling the bell above his door right now. Peculiar thing, that. 

“The usual, love?” he asks, just to see her features curl into a hateful frown even as she nods her head. The dog beside her growls, low and deep in its chest. She doesn’t even have that thing on a leash but it sits there all the same, unmoving on its powerful white haunches, fixing Hickey with eyes that are too blue and too human and just… wrong. 

Coins clack on the countertop. He doesn’t need to count them to know it’s exact change for a tuna melt and a slice of beef tongue. He counts them anyway, flashes his customer a satisfied smirk that makes her flinch. The dog growls again.

“All good out here, boss?” Solomon, that protective idiot, pokes his head out of the kitchen, bread knife in hand as he nervously eyes both woman and beast. 

“Just peachy,” Hickey smiles, gaze still locked on the animal. Pets aren’t allowed in his shop but he’ll gladly make an exception for this one. He’s spent more than a few nights lying awake, wondering what it must be like, walking the streets with that kind of creature at your beck and call, crowds parting for you, knowing in your very bones that those powerful jaws answer to you and you alone… 

“Order up!” Thomas calls from the back. The sandwich is hot in Hickey’s clammy grasp, even through the wrapper. Silence snatches it from his hand, diligently avoiding his skin. He cuts the strip of tongue himself, paper-thin and pink as it curls in the woman’s palm, watches the dog swallow it down, nosing and lapping at its owner’s fingers with so much tenderness… Does it know it could take off her hand with one bite? 

Silence slaps her thigh once and the beast stands, turning to leave. Hickey knows he could tell one of his men to follow her. Knows any of them would jump at a chance to wring a noise, any noise, out of that eternally unmoving mouth. Well, maybe not Goodsir - weak stomach on that one. And scheming little shits they might be, maybe they deserve a bit more of his trust than he’s been willing to give them. After all, they’ve kept their traps shut about the men he’s been fucking in the storage closet, about this place’s previous owner and all the unlabeled hunks of meat in the big freezer chest. They’ve been good. They deserve a bit of fun.

“Tomorrow,” Hickey mutters to himself as the door jingles shut again. He wipes his counter and smiles. 

[alchemist-of-thebes]

KH OC Week Day 4

Another day, another @khoc-week prompt!

Day 4: Alternate Universes

◾What would your OC's role be in an AU? Examples: Soulmate AU, modern, fantasy, scifi, etc.

KHx-Era Velcia:

An artsy, mousy bookworm in most any circumstance, the KHx-Era Velcia would not likely be found anywhere near the action in most AUs unless she were desperately trying to get away from it. For example, in a setting where a man who has spared no expense has cloned animals of a jurassic nature and placed them into an ill-fated theme park, she would probably be found hiding underneath the kitchen counter desperately hoping she can avoid the notice of the rather hungry raptors who’ve somehow learned to open doors. 

In settings where she is able to find a companion to help support her, she is able to blossom into a rather effective support role and provide valuable information and access to research and knowledge. Her fascination with libraries and archiving information help her excel in remote support, as long as she won’t need too heavy a grasp on technology.

KHII-Era Velcia:

In nearly any universe where Velcia can be found, two things stay constant: Her desire to grow her understanding of her fundamental knowledge of the world around her, and her drive to do everything she can to apply this knowledge to help others. In AUs where magic can be found, she will always be found with a strong magical affinity. In the terms of a Final-Fantasy styled magic-class system, Velcia is quite firmly in the Red Mage class tree.

In Universes without Magic, her interests are likely to diverge greatly. In a Sci-Fi or Modern setting she is likely to be a tech scientist. In a Medieval or Fantasy setting with more restrictive rules towards magic she would likely be found working with medicines or potions. And then, of course, there are a few rare universes where she would be found as a very, very particular chef. Castlevania AU! One fun little tangent I’ve been exploring the last few weeks, after playing through a couple of my favorite old Castlevania games (Rondo of Blood and Circle of the Moon especially!) is a Castlevania AU version of the "Modern" Velcia; where I’ve tried to adapt her over with a couple of the same basic beats. In this version of the story, she still lives in Greece with her father, a well-known magician who used to travel across Europe before his daughter was born. One day, a cult looking to revive Dracula appears and tries to enlist her father’s help and, when he refuses, he is murdered and the Anthes residence is burned to the ground. The young Velcia manages to escape with her life and severe burns to her legs, and once she is healed she redoubles her efforts to learn her father’s trade and becoming a capable magician in her own right.

As time passes, she finds that this group has stayed in Greece. Monsters that nobody has seen before have begun appearing and terrorizing the lands, and certain supernatural individuals (Vampires!) are slowly taking over and manipulating things behind the scenes. Understanding that she is not equipped with the knowledge or tools she needs to defeat them on her own, Velcia travels up North to try to enlist the help of the legendary Belmont clan and rid her home country of the cult of vampires and monsters that now work in secret to revive their dark lord.

But, of course, that’s just a little tangent. I’ve got so many other stories to write, I probably won’t get around to that. I… I shouldn’t, right? Right…?

I might.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

The Night before Christmas

@lycheesodas, as promised, here is my take on your blorbos...

-> Link to the art (go like and reblog please)-> Also, commissions are open, so please consider commissioning this amazing artist!

I hope you'll like this <3

Words: 2k

Characters: Beleg x Mablung (Modern!AU)

Warnings: None, just fluff

Mablung rolled his shoulders uncomfortably as he tightened the last knot of the gold ribbon around the deceivingly small box; the sweater Beleg had gotten him was slightly scratchy and altogether too warm, making him sweat even more as he stood fidgeting by the kitchen counter, eyeing his present critically.

He did not doubt for a single second that his boyfriend would tear the paper off unceremoniously anyway, but Mablung had an orderly mind and – when it came to something so monumentally important – he didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

With a satisfied nod, he picked the discreet parcel up at the very moment a loud bang in the hallway informed him of the arrival of his beloved in the flat. Mablung had been relieved when Beleg had decided to spend the afternoon prior to their little intimate celebration at his unofficial second job, babysitting Túrin the Terror, for it had given Mablung the time to tidy up their flat and wrap his gift with the slow, meticulous care he liked to apply to things that mattered to him.

A sharp tug at the back of his sweatshirt reminded him belatedly of just how fast and noiselessly Beleg could move when he had a mind to; Mablung perforce spun around, smoothly hiding the box behind his broad back. He was taller than Beleg and so he almost collided with the hand his beaming boyfriend was holding over them; as he let his eyes drift upwards, he glimpsed the mistletoe Beleg was brandishing as if it was a rare treasure.

“You’ll have to kiss me,” the silver-haired imp crooned, “it’s the law.”

“It is a tradition,” Mablung replied sternly, “which is quite different from an actual decree.”

They had been dating for too long for Beleg to miss the playful sparkle in his eyes though and so he was not surprised to see that rosy, overactive mouth purse in expectation of the demanded kiss.

“Come on,” Beleg whined, letting his dense lashes flutter seductively as he stepped even closer to his partner. “You cannot wear those work pants at home and expect me to forego your sweet kisses. You evil siren!”

Uttering a choked chuckle, Mablung allowed himself to tear his gaze from the puny bough of waxy greenery; he was never entirely sure where Beleg got those ideas from, but he couldn’t deny that it filled his chest with welcome warmth whenever his boyfriend accused him of looking especially good on purpose.

In his own humble opinion, Mablung merely looked like himself and the fact that this was enough to make Beleg go cross-eyed with admiration at times was one of the countless reasons he held on to a little box so tightly that the edges cut into his fingers now.

As he waited for Mablung to finish his thought, a nervous expression flitted over Beleg’s face as his eyes went to the old cabinet sitting in the corner of the room. “It’s for good luck,” he explained softly, “and I need all the luck I can get tonight!”

Just as Mablung was finally about to give in to Beleg’s irresistible pleas though, he felt a nimble, swift hand shoot around his body.

“What do we have here?”

“No,” Mablung cried out, “it’s not yet gift-giving time! You really need to work on your patience! We had agreed on midnight, and I’d hold you to that!”

“Spoilsport!” Beleg cried out dramatically, thankful for the distraction; unfortunately, he was only too acutely aware of Mablung’s iron will when it came to these things; a covenant had been arranged and Mablung would not budge unless he absolutely had to. “Aren’t you at all curious about what I’ve gotten you?”

“Trickery?” Mablung asked with an amused smirk as all but saw the joyous energy radiate from Beleg in shivering waves of excited impatience; evidently, he was himself very much looking forward to seeing Mablung open the gift he had gotten for him. “I cannot wait to find out, my sweet love.”

“Evidently, you can,” Beleg muttered but, upon seeing the nervous glint in Mablung’s eyes, he guffawed loudly and pushed himself up on his toes to capture the twitching mouth in a warm kiss. “Good to be home, I’ve missed you.”

Mablung’s heart did a quick somersault; no matter how often Beleg spoke such spontaneous words of love and devotion as if doing so was the easiest and most natural thing in the world, his much more reserved boyfriend never was quite used to the rush of happiness and helpless affection surging through him.

He should have been warier of the entrapment of Beleg’s charm though for, when that wily seducer made another dash for the parcel, Mablung only managed to salvage his jealously guarded surprise by throwing his arm up and holding it out of Beleg’s reach.

“You’re being puerile,” he chided nervously; he had spent so much time planning the minutiae of the scene that his thoughts had petrified around that crystalline moment of bliss, and he found that he was terrified that it would be ruined by unpredicted chaos or inadvertent mischief.

Complaining under his breath, Beleg tugged and prodded until they fell onto the thankfully nearby couch in a heap of limbs and a cloud of pealing laughter.

“You love me though,” Beleg grinned up at him, almost going cross-eyed with trying to never let the package out of his sight.

“That I do!” A slew of passionate, loving kisses followed which did nothing to take Beleg’s sharp mind off the mystery at hand; as much as he enjoyed lazing around in Mablung’s arms, he could neither deny nor shake the quiet hum of excitement that little box had set off in his breast.

“It’s almost midnight, Mablung, my sweet, steadfast, serene love. Take pity on my poor, impatient heart and let me see!”

Shaking his head, Mablung set his precious gift on top of an oaken armoire and returned to the kitchen to check on the food he had set into the oven to warm up; he had paid a hefty fee for their favourite restaurant to deliver a dish Beleg adored.

As he pulled a sinfully expensive bottle of wine – a courtesy from Melian – out of the fridge, Mablung also allowed himself a moment to rest his forehead against the cool wood of the kitchen cupboards to gather his thoughts.

His breath was gusting out in short, shallow puffs that had nothing to do with the brief tussle in the living room; he was both heartened and thrown off balance by the boundless enthusiasm of his boyfriend.

They were doing so well and, as a cautious man, Mablung was afraid to disturb that fragile balance by the monumental decision he had taken. He did not doubt that Beleg loved him, but did he love him enough?

Beleg loved the sun and the open forest in summer, but he could just as happily watch the snowflakes dance on the icy wind for hours; it was nearly impossible to dampen his zeal and hunger for life and all it had to offer.

How could Mablung dare try to bind one such as him to his own tedious, painfully monotonous existence?

He was about to call the whole thing off when Beleg appeared in the doorframe, sporting a crooked grin and cradling an evidently injured arm.

“What?” Mablung cried out in dismay but stopped his advance when Beleg proudly brandished the box.

“Is this what I suspect?” Beleg asked breathlessly, his keen glance sweeping over the flushed face of the one he loved most and the absurd wine he was holding as if to strangle the cold glass bottle.

“Yes,” Mablung sighed and dropped to one knee.

“Don’t! These are your best trousers!” Beleg cried out in shock; his mind was spinning wildly, unable to fully comprehend the picture before him. There he was – serious, sturdy, solitary Mablung – kneeling on the cold kitchen floor in his grotesquely festive sweater and his star-spangled socks, and his eyes were alight with a thousand doubts and hopes that shimmered like a meteorite shower on the rippling background of his deep, undying love.

“Wine,” Beleg croaked and sniffed, “and you’ve gotten my favourite dish as well. Will you be lenient and show me grace? You may keep the box until midnight but, I beg you, let me have the actual gift.”

Mablung frowned slightly, tilting his head back to drink in the vision of Beleg, triumphant and yet solemnly subdued all of a sudden.

“Give me the words that – I have no doubt – you have prepared for this moment. I think I’ll die of asphyxiation if you don’t speak soon!”

Taking the box from Beleg and handing him the bottle of wine so he could apply its soothing, smooth coolness onto the growing bruise creeping up his arm, Mablung took a deep breath.

“I have ever been told that I am rather dull,” he then started, “but you seem to be endlessly amused and delighted by me. For all the flaws I cannot deny and all the faults I am blissfully oblivious of yet, I can vaunt that I am loyal to a fault and…I love you more than you’ll ever even know.

Your world is movement and colour, but mine is made up of duty and honour…and you. Mostly you. You are more than my light, more than mere happiness in a wonderful body, more than a burst of life in the drab grey of the monotony of existence. You are home. Will you marry me?”

He did not undo the ribbon or present Beleg with the discreet band of white gold and frozen starlight yet, he simply sat – motionless – like willing prey or a holy offering sacrificed to some obscure deity.

“Oh, you silly, old fool,” Beleg laughed, launching himself at Mablung and toppling both of them over. “How ceremonial you sound for a question that easy!”

“Mind the wine,” Mablung admonished instinctively as he tightened his arms around Beleg’s body protectively.

“Forget the wine,” Beleg jeered. “Yes, yes, of course. A thousand times yes. If anyone is home – constant, reliable, an ever-fixed star to guide my steps – it is certainly you, my darling.”

Tenderly, he threaded his finger into Mablung’s silken hair to pull him into a soft, melting kiss into which he willed all the bundled, focused, concentrated love he usually dispersed so haphazardly.

Somewhere outside, a church bell chimed.

“Can I see the ring before we eat?”

“Before dinner?” Mablung asked, pretending to be shocked by this set of priorities.

“I’d choose you over food anytime,” Beleg whispered insistently, “over sleep, over comfort, over safety. You know that, right? You are the most important element in my life and, without you, nothing else means anything anymore anyway!”

Relieved beyond what words could express, Mablung handed the small box back and – scrambling to his feet elegantly – half-turned to the oven to retrieve their dinner.

The smile breaking on his face like the light of day at midnight was fast and blinding though as he heard Beleg breathe in sharply before cheering loudly, screaming – at the top of his lungs – that the ring was perfect and that he undoubtedly was the happiest bugger alive.

It was not what Mablung had predicted but – after all these years – he was hardly surprised by that and the way Beleg managed to turn his most assiduous of plans into miracles, full of earnest beauty and astonishing revelations, was another one of the truly endless reasons for this chaotic midnight proposal.

A second later, Beleg jumped onto his back to hug him with his whole body, peppering haphazard kisses onto every patch of bare skin he could reach. “You’ll never believe what I’ve gotten you!” he cried and laughed until Mablung could feel cool tears of endless mirth fall onto his neck.

“I,” he declared in accents of mock arrogance, “can wait until after dinner.”

“Ha!” Beleg exclaimed, tightening his hold. “We shall see about that.”

So, this goes to show that I am a glutton for Modern!AUs...You see I've had a lot of fun with this <3

Thank you for being such an amazing artist and enabler! I love you lots!

[electricbluebutterflies]

Jess/Leto + “and then everything just disappears.”

Modern AU (roughly equivalent to late-era) featuring a panic attack similar to how mine work (I hate that I have to put that disclaimer but here we are), PG-ish, and also on ao3.

At least the lapses are infrequent.

That’s what she started to call them once it became enough of an issue to keep track of, one more polite euphemism to keep her life under control, one more personality quirk to compartmentalize and never speak of and-

It’ll be fine in five minutes, Jessica tells herself. It’s always fine in five minutes. It’s not fine now.

She shouldn’t be losing control like this, not at this point in her life, not thirty-four and surrounded by pillars of stability that she has done everything she can to wrap her life around like a vine, not married with a kid and oh god she is in no mood to explain panic attacks to an eleven-year-old right now and she can’t remember what vague explanation they’ve been using lately and-

Her mind and her body do not feel connected right now, but they are both overwhelmed with feeling. Five minutes, if she’s lucky, of the worst combination of sensations she’s ever felt.

Her mind is a blur; this is good, she processes, this is at least not a flashback. Her body is… curled up in a ball on the kitchen floor, and this is bad this is bad this is not how weekday evenings are supposed to go this is not-

When it stops, when she becomes a more normal kind of conscious, she is well aware that her usual plan to just pretend this didn’t happen isn’t going to work out. Dammit.

“I’m alright,” she says, and her voice sounds wrong, sounds detached from her body, too low too-

These incidents happen just often enough that her partner knows how to respond to them, at least there’s that. Knows to get water for her and stay out of reach and-

“It’s over. Really. I’m alright.”

This is, as usual, a total lie.

Jessica has structured her life around an indefinite number of personal rules, and one of the biggest ones is that she does not let other people into her distress unless she’s in absolute crisis mode, a point she’s only reached once or twice and-

“You don’t need to lie to me.”

At least she’s steady enough to turn her head and glare at her husband, at least that feels alright. He knows her rules as much as anyone else ever will, she wants to say, he knows-

“I’m breathing, I’m coherent, I’m not sure how that’s a lie,” she hisses.

He’s quiet for a few moments, the quiet of a man who knows how easily this could go nuclear if he says the wrong thing, and she loves that caution he has sometimes because she doesn’t have that tendency at all, she loves-

“What just happened? Don’t justify, just explain.”

Another rule – she does not explain what happens inside her head. The bad reaction she had the one time she was on meds was a decade ago now, but it was bad enough that she won’t try again, and any information she might give anyone will just worry them, and-

She occasionally puts her husband through hell because her mind doesn’t work, she reminds herself. She might as well break her boundaries enough to tell him why.

“I detach,” she says after what feels like a few moments and time. “It’s just all… too much. For no clear reason. And if I’m lucky, and this time I was, it’s just overwhelming static until I’m back in my body again and then everything just disappears. And it’s always so efficient and-“

“Efficient,” he repeats, and apparently this will be the point of judgement. “Even when you’re-“

“Can you imagine how difficult I’d be if these lasted longer? Would you still-“

He finally gets down on the floor with her, close enough to touch and doesn’t yet, and gives her those eyes that remind her why their fights never last. “I signed up for this, remember?”

“I did a pretty thorough job hiding my damage from you until you’d have to lawyer up to get out of it,” she murmurs.

“I would not describe your night terrors as hiding anything,” he counters, and that’s a few conversations they’ve politely avoided, and-

“You were kind enough never to mention the bruises. I…”

He reaches for her hand and starts tracing little patterns on her skin like he does when he needs stability too, and it frightens her that she can still give him that in this state, and-

“You’ve never been easy. Love isn’t like that.”

They’re not emotional people, Jessica reminds herself. The emotions are there, they’re both just… products of icy families, she thinks might be a tactful way of putting it, and both trying so hard to do better than their pasts, trying to-

“Do I dare ask where our son is right now?” A question she should’ve had minutes ago, and dammit she is not doing this parenting thing well, and-

“Upstairs. I said you weren’t feeling well and needed space.”

Which means probably right around the corner and listening more than he should, Jessica knows what they’ve raised, but-

“Thank you for being what I can’t be.”

Her partner moves closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and drawing her into him. “I wouldn’t say it’s that simple, but-“

“You take care of him. Of us. And I just-“

“Jess. Don’t. Not while you’re still-“

“Don’t finish that statement, love. Please.”

He does anyways. “Vulnerable. Nothing worse.”

She still hates this fragility she has sometimes, hates that she needs to be comforted and cared for, but-

“We don’t deserve each other.”

Her partner tilts his head and kisses the side of her face. “We really don’t.”

Over, almost. She’ll be able to sleep later and her mind will be safe. It’ll be fine. Eventually.

[saltypeanutnerd]

Véhicules blindés, Prévisions de la Taille du Marché Mondial, Classement et Part de Marché des 20 Premières Entreprises

Selon le nouveau rapport d'étude de marché “Rapport sur le marché mondial de Véhicules blindés 2024-2030”, publié par QYResearch, la taille du marché mondial de Véhicules blindés devrait atteindre 28360 millions de dollars d'ici 2030, à un TCAC de 4,8% au cours de la période de prévision.

Figure 1. Taille du marché mondial de Véhicules blindés (en millions de dollars américains), 2019-2030

Selon QYResearch, les principaux fabricants mondiaux de Véhicules blindés comprennent General Dynamics, BAE Systems, Rheinmetall, China North Industrial, Oshkosh, Nexter Systems, Hyundai Rotem, Uralvagonzavod, FNSS, STREIT Group, etc. En 2022, les dix premiers acteurs mondiaux détenaient une part d'environ 70,0% en termes de chiffre d'affaires.

Figure 2. Classement et part de marché des 20 premiers acteurs mondiaux de Véhicules blindés (Le classement est basé sur le chiffre d'affaires de 2022, continuellement mis à jour)

The Armored Vehicles market, which encompasses a wide range of vehicles designed for protection against ballistic attacks and explosive devices, is witnessing growth due to several key drivers:

: The persistent threat of terrorism, asymmetric warfare, and civil unrest worldwide has led to increased demand for armored vehicles by military forces, law enforcement agencies, and private security firms.

: Many countries are investing in modernizing their military capabilities, including replacing aging fleets with technologically advanced armored vehicles that offer improved protection, mobility, and firepower.

: The shift towards urban warfare has emphasized the need for highly maneuverable and well-protected armored vehicles capable of operating effectively in congested city environments.

: International peacekeeping forces and organizations involved in humanitarian aid often require armored vehicles to ensure the safety of personnel in unstable regions.

: The growth of the private security industry, particularly in regions with high crime rates or in the protection of VIPs, has fueled demand for armored passenger vehicles and cash-in-transit vehicles.

: Innovations in materials science, such as lightweight composites and advanced armor solutions, improve vehicle performance while maintaining or enhancing protection levels, making armored vehicles more attractive.

: Governments are investing in homeland security measures, including the procurement of armored vehicles for border patrol, emergency response, and critical infrastructure protection.

: Economic growth in certain regions leads to increased defense budgets, allowing for the acquisition of new armored vehicles and upgrades to existing fleets.

: Countries with strong defense industries are capitalizing on export opportunities to nations seeking to enhance their defense capabilities, further expanding the global market.

: The need for effective response to threats posed by non-state actors, such as insurgent groups and terrorists, has led to the development and deployment of specialized armored vehicles suited for counter-insurgency operations.

These drivers indicate a robust and evolving market for armored vehicles, reflecting the ongoing need for advanced protection solutions in various security and military contexts worldwide.

À propos de QYResearch

QYResearch a été fondée en 2007 en Californie aux États-Unis. C'est une société de conseil et d'étude de marché de premier plan à l'échelle mondiale. Avec plus de 17 ans d'expérience et une équipe de recherche professionnelle dans différentes villes du monde, QYResearch se concentre sur le conseil en gestion, les services de base de données et de séminaires, le conseil en IPO, la recherche de la chaîne industrielle et la recherche personnalisée. Nous société a pour objectif d’aider nos clients à réussir en leur fournissant un modèle de revenus non linéaire. Nous sommes mondialement reconnus pour notre vaste portefeuille de services, notre bonne citoyenneté d'entreprise et notre fort engagement envers la durabilité. Jusqu'à présent, nous avons coopéré avec plus de 60 000 clients sur les cinq continents. Coopérons et bâtissons ensemble un avenir prometteur et meilleur.

QYResearch est une société de conseil de grande envergure de renommée mondiale. Elle couvre divers segments de marché de la chaîne industrielle de haute technologie, notamment la chaîne industrielle des semi-conducteurs (équipements et pièces de semi-conducteurs, matériaux semi-conducteurs, circuits intégrés, fonderie, emballage et test, dispositifs discrets, capteurs, dispositifs optoélectroniques), la chaîne industrielle photovoltaïque (équipements, cellules, modules, supports de matériaux auxiliaires, onduleurs, terminaux de centrales électriques), la chaîne industrielle des véhicules électriques à énergie nouvelle (batteries et matériaux, pièces automobiles, batteries, moteurs, commande électronique, semi-conducteurs automobiles, etc.), la chaîne industrielle des communications (équipements de système de communication, équipements terminaux, composants électroniques, frontaux RF, modules optiques, 4G/5G/6G, large bande, IoT, économie numérique, IA), la chaîne industrielle des matériaux avancés (matériaux métalliques, polymères, céramiques, nano matériaux, etc.), la chaîne industrielle de fabrication de machines (machines-outils CNC, machines de construction, machines électriques, automatisation 3C, robots industriels, lasers, contrôle industriel, drones), l'alimentation, les boissons et les produits pharmaceutiques, l'équipement médical, l'agriculture, etc.

[changqwi]

shanjie but it’s cod au (but specifically modern warfare) 

            where he’s a part of the taiwanese mpssc (  military police special services company  )  ,  an unit that deals with counter-terrorism amongst it’s many tasks  .  though young  ,  he’s rumored to be one of the best at the job  ;  he takes it seriously  ,  but often is seen as if he’s working like there’s something he has to prove  .             young but not reckless  ,  shanjie is thorough in his work and gets along well with his teammates  ;  even if he doesn’t  ,  he remains amicable to avoid conflict during tasks  .  he’s one of the more talkative member of the 141  ,  nicknamed SMILEY for his always cheery attitude, he sometimes finds himself out of place amongst the numerous operators . . . after all  ,  he’s young and he’s from a tiny island . . .  he feels like he has something to prove and always pushes himself beyond the limits  .  always willing to learn  ,  he does find it intimidating to approach some of the other members . . .

[wftc141]

Art by @cynthrey

Major Allura Brooks and Commander Shirogane

Based on this

[tired-biscuit]

Happy Birthday

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka/fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni // modern au, intoxication, unhealthy amount of tension, edging. reader is naruto uzumaki's younger sister.

Word count: 11.5k

Summary: Kiba invites you to his 22nd birthday party. Stuff happens.

a/n: nobody asked for this, but here i am; posting this one-shot in honour of the birthday boy.

HAD this all been a mistake?

As you feel the bitter burn of yet another consumed shot seep its way down your throat, you can't say for sure.

Placing the tiny glass back upon the kitchen counter, your expression twists into one of pure disgust when the heat settles into the pit of your stomach.

You've forgotten just how bad vodka tastes on its own, lacking the sweet tang of Red Bull or juice. The reminder is semi-welcomed, you suppose.

The broad palm to land upon your shoulder blade in that moment is warm as it pats you encouragingly one, two; three times.

You suck in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, swallowing the runny saliva that's only there because of the damn vodka, before a bright red solo cup is shoved right into your hands.

Your eyes narrow as you look up at the tall, handsome brunet which you've had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing ever since you were little.

Unbeknownst to many, Kiba has been terrorizing your life for as long as you can remember. Adorning nearly every picture in your family photo album with that tan, freckled face of his, the ebullient Inuzuka had met your big brother on his first day of preschool, and stuck by his side from that moment onward.

Since Kiba is Naruto's best friend, it's no wonder how most of the memories you have of your childhood include him.

Only two years younger than the two boys, you grew up alongside both Naruto and Kiba; building sandcastles on the beach together whenever you went on vacation, playing hide and seek, as well as every other game you could possibly come up with off the top of your tiny heads and which made you constantly end up in trouble together.

Kiba - always the rather boisterous and rowdy kid, much like your big brother - had been more or less invariably nice to you throughout all those years.

Until he abruptly wasn't.

After all, as soon as the Inuzuka turned eight, he had started getting mean; towards you, specifically. Constantly tugging on your pigtails and taunting you for how you acted and spoke, Kiba had made you cry and tell on him to your mother on several occasions.

Crying big, fat tears, you never quite understood why she only chuckled at your childish complaints back then. Why Tsume, Kiba's own mother, had had the exact same reaction, too. Why Naruto agreed with everything he said like the traitorous older brother he was, and got fussy all of a sudden if you wanted to play with them like you always did.

You stopped trying to fit in amongst the two rowdy boys at some point, and instead focused on your own hobbies.

So, years passed. You grew up into a sweet girl, who eventually found friends of her own, and forgot all about stupid, idiotic Kiba who teased you until you cried, despite that he swung by nearly every other day.

That is, until he went to visit his dad one summer when you were thirteen. That year, Kiba came back tall and lean; with his limbs almost comically long, as well as accompanied with a deep voice that made you burst out with laughter whenever it cracked into a higher pitch mid-sentence.

You still quarelled in the same way you used to when you were little, but this time without your tearful complaints to your mother.

He told you all about how his summer went, how his dad was pretty okay whenever he wished to be, and how his older sister Hana had stepped on a sea urchin and had to be rushed to the hospital, where he laughed his ass off as she groaned with every pluck of the doctor's tweezers.

But then that summer came to an end, as all things do, and Kiba started high school along with Naruto, and you were forgotten once again because of other, new friends and experiences that interested him as a proper teenager, and that certainly had nothing to do with thirteen-year-old you. 

By the time you became a freshman yourself, he was already seventeen and a junior. Much to your beffudlement, Kiba had started acting weird around you at that age, mostly turning an ignorant eye towards your direction and barely speaking to you at all, which had most definitely been way out of his usually outgoing personality.

He stared at you only when you weren't looking. Asked Naruto about how you were doing, but never once voiced the question directly to you. The entire ordeal only made you grow further apart.

You never questioned him about it; well at least not truly, anyway. It wasn't like you actually cared about what someone as silly as Kiba thought of you, after all.

And then all of a sudden said boy was a senior finishing high school, getting ready to begin living yet another chapter of his life. He got a sports scholarship and left town for college without ever saying goodbye, much like your own brother. He left you behind, just like that. They both did.

It seemed that university life was a blast for an open, untamed person like Kiba, at least judging from the pictures he posted on his Instagram. From eighteen to twenty-one, you mostly saw him transfigure from a boy to a man over the screen of your phone - barely interacting with him at all, if it weren't for the rare exception whenever he liked the selfie you occasionally posted, was asking for Naruto, or if he dropped by the house to say hi to your parents during the summer.

So, to say that you were absolutely flabbergasted when you received a random text from him one night, inviting you to his 22nd birthday party would be an understatement.

Even Naruto seemed surprised when you asked if Kiba had possibly made a mistake. Had turned slightly suspicious, too, as you skipped down the stairs way more dolled up than usual on the night of the party, staring up at him with slightly anxious eyes.

"It's just Kiba," your brother tells you, eyeing the pretty skirt and top you've decided on tonight, "so, why are you all dressed up?"

"Who said it was for him?" you reply with an eye roll, despite that there's an inexplicable bounce to your step as you leave the house.

And that was that, as well as the reason how you find yourself staring at a freshly turned twenty-two-year-old Kiba, the golden amber within his irises recoiling whenever your gazes meet inside his dimly-lit kitchen.

You have no idea how he has managed to hunt you down amongst the mass of people to fill every room of his house, but the honey-like shade nearly glows with overt amusement when he smiles down at you after he's successfully persuaded you into sharing a third round of double shots with him.

Let's be honest, it's not like it took him a lot of effort. It's his birthday, after all. And the birthday boy gets what he wants!

Meanwhile, Kiba, who is feverishly determined and drunk just enough to finally shoot his shot with the girl that's been off limits to him for fucking aeons, is putting his best effort in making that statement true.

He knows what he's attempting to do is supposedly wrong as he keeps poking and prodding at you to see how you play - knows it darn well, but after literal years of loyalty and restraint, he's allowed to go behind his best friend's back just this once, right?

Sure, Naruto will unleash hell and fury upon him if he finds out, but...

I mean, come on! You're old enough to make your own decisions in life. He's tired of only liking your cute selfies and never sliding into your DMs, because Naruto gets upset everytime he sees him double-tap the damn posts. It's his birthday, for crying out loud!

And it's not just any birthday. This year, Kiba has finally allowed himself to wish for you; hence why you're here in the first place. 

So, it's the fact that it's just you and him inside the little kitchen that matters most to him, no matter that you're surrounded by other individuals who he can't bring himself to care about in that moment. Honestly, with so many people around, Kiba is slightly surprised that he's the only one you seem to endure the company of tonight.

After all, he had waited for an hour or so before leaving his friends to go look for you instead, giving you plenty of time to mingle. When he at long last found you behind the kitchen counter, mixing yourself a drink, completely alone and not talking to anybody, it was like yet another birthday present amongst many.

The realization that you're actually standing in front of him and he's seeing you properly after years of nothing is making his heart feel all kinds of weird. He's been crushing on you ever since he was a little kid, but that's long gone. 

He's a man now - a man that's still undeniably crushing on you, but still...

All he has left to do as an infatuated man, now; is to score. It's a parlous task, however Kiba is willing to take the risk. 

He's thought long and hard about this. Has taken safety precautions. The people he invited have no fucking clue who you are, or are far too intoxicated and high to remember whose baby sister exactly he's beginning to hit on. The sister, mind you, whose annoyingly protective older brother is nowhere to be seen, because Kiba had made sure to invite his friend Hinata from college, so that she'd keep the damn cockblocker busy while he kicks up the charm.

But you don't know anything about his wicked plan. You just see his smile, and assume he's being nice to you because a circuit inside that little, male brain of his must have glitched, or whatever.

He's telling you something, but you can barely hear him over the booming music and equally as loud chatter. The brown-haired Inuzuka seems to own an entire army of friends, however is that really a surprise, considering how damn affable he is?

His mouth moves in the most peculiar way when he grins, upper lip pink and plump as it pulls back on his teeth; as well as slightly glossy from the shot he's just finished. The two incisors he owns are way sharper than whatever you've seen on any other human. They glint in the dim light, causing your pulse to quicken.

"Hey," you hear him drawl seemingly from miles away, "you doin' okay there?"

You feel your nose scrunch up when he snaps his fingers in front of your face all of a sudden. Catching gazes with the fierce amber, you feel like the silliest of fools.

You've successfully zoned out, thinking about his stupid mouth, and Kiba is staring at you now; studying you like you're a goddamn enigma he seems surprisingly eager to solve.

His eyes are enticing just like his mouth. The realization that you've been caught ogling at his lovely smile makes heat radiate through your chest. You swear that you can feel your heart hurting from the sheer and utter embarrassment.

Jittery nerves propel your adrenaline levels, your grip around the cup which you're still holding in your hand, tightening in response.

The tips of your fingers feel somewhat numb from all the alcohol you've indulged yourself in. You're not entirely sure if that's a good thing or not.

"y/n," he says your name, waving a hand in front of your face again.

"Wha-... Sorry, what?" you manage lamely.

The second heatwave of humiliation to hit you in that moment isn't exactly helping in sobering you up, but that's not the plan anyway. It's just annoying that you can't seem to focus.

Kiba snickers at your obvious discomfort, just like he did when he was a kid. "Somebody can't handle their booze?"

The frown you portray is subtle and pouty. "I'm just tired."

"Mhmmm," he hums exaggeratedly, nodding, "of course you are."

You can't believe you used to have a crush on a taunting prick like him. The sigh you loose is exasperated as you point to the solo cup he's just handed you. "What's in this?"

"What?" He quirks one dark brow before leaning in slightly so that he can hear you better.

His cologne invades your nose in an instant. Kiba smells like rain and cedarwood; heavy, balsamic notes that remind you of a forest that's wrapped in a blanket of thick fog and moss, all of it coated in a layer of cool morning dew.

The pleasant scent titillates your senses to the point where it makes you want to cling onto the white t-shirt he's wearing, so that you'd be able to bury your face into the crook of his neck. 

Pause. It's Kiba we're talking about here. Idiot Kiba, who forgot to tie his shoes before he went on a roller coaster when he was nine, and sent them flying away in the middle of the ride.

Kiba, who chugged milk straight from the carton and laughed so hard it spurted out his nose when you told him how gross he was. Kiba, who kept picking up spiders and other nasty bugs, and then ran after you, threatening you he'll drop them into your hair as you squealed and cried.

The thought of sin that had crossed your mind nearly makes you cringe away from him at the other memories to otherwise flood your brain as if in argument. How embarrassing for you!

Blinking, you instantly hang blame upon the alcohol that's coursing your veins, and obviously clouding your better judgement. He's your brother's best friend, after all - one who you've known since diapers and that's been seen as nothing but a menace in your eyes ever since.

It'd be gross to think like that about Kiba of all people, wouldn't it?

... Wouldn't it?

Partially satisfied with your reasoning, you grumble and curl your fingers around the unbuttoned front of the flannel he's wearing over the white t-shirt, so that you can pull him closer.

He's compliant as he leans in, but what you fail to notice, however, is that his hand rests against the kitchen counter at the tug; trapping you in-between the cool marble and his body. Caging you right in.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up to his elbows. You can't help but glance at the defined knuckles and flexible digits. His forearm is tan and covered in dark hair, but you can still see a small fraction of the thin, white scar he's acquired when he fell off his skateboard when he was seven, and that's now hiding underneath the rather familiar forest green, vowen bracelet he's been wearing since forever.

Back then, it would have been either a sprained wrist, or a head-on collision with you when you had swerved in front of him on your little, bright pink rollerblades just as he had picked up speed on the damned board.

Luckily for you; Kiba had chosen the former.

Come to think of it, he always chose you over his own well-being. He fussed about it, of course, but he nonetheless picked your safety first.

You're not entirely sure why you even remember such a thing; even less why it makes your heart flutter. But you're not one to dwell on it.

Stepping onto the tips of your toes, your mouth is right next to his ear as you raise your voice and repeat the question, "I was asking what's in the cup?"

"It's just soda, pipsqueak," Kiba says, the rasp of his voice laced with laughter as he adds, "it'll help in getting rid of the taste of booze that you can't seem to endure."

Both of your brows shoot up in mild astonishment at the blatant taunt. "Excuse me?"

He smiles down at you once more. "What?"

Your eyes dip to his smile again. There you go, staring at his mouth for a second time in the mere span of five minutes. Making him notice. Stupid, stupid, stupid! 

Your voice shakes slightly as you utter, "Don't you think you're a bit too old to keep teasing me, Kiba?"

"Hmm?" His eyes glimmer with profound mischief when he says, "I always thought you'd be the kind of girl that'd enjoy a little bit of teasing."

Heat creeps up your neck at the hint. He's obviously drunk, but so are you, because now you're smirking as you reply, "It completely depends on the occasion."

"Yeah?" He seems completely invested, impatient fingers tapping against the marble of the counter as he towers over you. "What kind of occasion, exactly?"

You can't resist an eye roll. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh, I'd like to know, all right. Very much so."

The giggle you weave into the tease is innocently cute, "Sorry, but I don't kiss and tell." It's all fun and games, right? No harm done.

He's quick to turn it into his favour. "Mind making an exception for me?"

"For which one, exactly," you quip in an instant, "the kiss, or the tell part?"

"Why, you little-... Hah." His lips part, revealing the perfect, straight row of teeth again as he laughs quietly at your jab.

The beam itself is crooked and appealing, and it's in that exact moment that you realize how close he actually is as he stands next to you. How his gaze burns like a forge as it focuses solely on you, and how anyone walking past could take it the wrong way as you push back against the counter and he leans in even further, like it's his fucking instinct to follow after you.

Wait. Are you actually flirting with him right now?

You pray to every God you know that Naruto doesn't come searching for you. If he were to find you like this, your brother might just tear you to shreds for messing with his best friend of all people. Might rip Kiba apart for allowing it in the first place, too.

But in all seriousness; are you just messing around with him? Or do you actually want to initiate something with your brother's best friend, who, at long last, is giving you the attention you've wished for ever since you were thirteen? Or perhaps it is just the booze taking control of your actions?

The edge of the counter bites into the small of your back with the movement as you pull back. Kiba's digits tap against the marble again. He trails his eyes all over you - up and down. Like a proper bastard.

His arm is so close to your side that you can feel his body heat pour into you, even though you're not making any sort of physical contact ever since your hand had left his flannel. The feeling is overwhelming, to say the least. You can't believe you're actually growing flustered around an idiot like Kiba, for fuck's sake.

The daze you feel is the reason why the best you can do is stare at his chest now, which is so wide that you're wondering how big his goddamn ribcage must be. His heart definitely beats like a war drum; you're sure of it.

Before you can hesitate, the curiosity you feel makes you press your palm against the middle of his chest. Not a moment passes, and there it is - the strong, steady heartbeat you've expected to feel; grazing your finger pads, and making your own pulse skyrocket. 

"Anyways," you pat his firm chest, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible while placing the cup of soda onto the counter, "I can handle it just fine, Kib."

"Sweetheart," Kiba utters, the grin on his face growing even wider, "I'm not entirely sure you can."

Your gaze lifts as you look at him underneath your eyelashes. His face owns a reddish tint to it now; both cheeks blooming with heat which you're guessing is there because of the alcohol.

His eyes seem glossy, the stare heavy-lidded and complacent, but most importantly - unmoving from your own.

Your nerves are firing up all at once at the intense eye contact. Pressure climbs up your throat, making your chest tighten with blazing-hot tension. Your mind is running all over the place, turning you incapable of concentrating. 

The suspense makes you falter as you peel your eyes away from him. It turns you into a coward, because now you're completely changing the subject, "Nice bracelet."

Kiba on the other hand, seems to be holding his ground. His voice is smooth as velvet as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and says, "As far as I remember, you've bought it for me at the beach years ago."

Hyper-awareness flashes throughout you at his touch, making you tongue-tangled with the jumble of words you let out, "Yeah, 'cause you wouldn't stop bitching about how I lost your stupid Spider-Man towel, and I had to make it up to you somehow."

"First of all, it wasn't stupid. And second," he chuckles as he curls the same strand of hair around his finger and tugs it lightly to provoke you further, "it was an Iron Man one. Please educate yourself before you come for me, cutie."

Your pulse is racing now. "Cutie?"

Kiba blinks. His knuckle brushes your cheekbone and it's like a tingling, nearly electrical jolt that surges through him at the accidental touch in that exact moment.

He pulls back, leaving the part of skin he touched burning in his wake. "I'm sorry. I didn't-... I didn't mean it like that. Fuck, hah."

His laughter is somewhat nervous now, and to be honest, you've never seen him act this hesitant before. The Kiba you know had always been nothing but smug in every single aspect, but at the same time, you barely know the current Kiba.

You haven't talked in years, after all - not properly, at least, which is why this entire interaction is so freaking odd in the first place. You wish you had some sort of power to know what on earth is going on inside that pretty head of his.

Based from experience gained from spending so many years in his company, you're guessing not much is happening inside that thick skull, but you'd kill to know the reason as to why he's invited you to his birthday party at all.

What has changed? Why was he searching the house for you, specifically, pretty much ignoring all the people he had invited, and why has he decided to spend the rest of the night in your presence, instead of anyone else's?

It seems that no matter how simple his mind may be, Kiba is - much to your dismay - the true enigma here.

Great.

"Ugh, I'm sorry," he repeats when you don't say anything in return, running a frustrated hand through his chestnut hair, "I think I'm just really wasted and saying shit I don't mean, 'cause of it."

In truth, he just wants to see if you'll bite into the bait he's setting up for you. If you'll play, and allow him to yank you right into his greedy hands.

You must be wasted, too, because now you're looking him right in the eye, saying, "It's all right, Kib. I liked it."

You just can't help yourself. Tonight is the first time in your life that you're seeing him this defenseless. That you're able to tug and pull on his strings, and play with him like he's a shiny, new toy that you can't wait to mess with. The opportunity is simply too good to miss out on.

If only you knew.

The atmosphere changes yet again at the words you've just spoken out loud, God have mercy on your soul. Something sticky and morally questionable settles right between you.

The tension is making your mouth dry. You're both circling now; unsure and waiting to see who is willing to take the first step towards the reason behind your uncertainty.

"You liked it," he mumbles at long last, unable to look at you properly, "the pet name?"

"Mhmm, I think it's cute." The smile you offer him is as cunning as one of a fox - pure vixen. Kiba doesn't understand why, but something about your face brightening up and the way the sheen of your lip gloss catches light tempts him; makes him tilt his head to the side and take you in unashamedly this time around.

He's outright leering at you now, studying you from head to toe, and taking in the pretty skirt and tight top, without trying to hide his interest like he's been doing for the past hour and a half.

You might own the smile of a fox, being an Uzumaki and all that, but when his amber eyes darken with shadows you can't quite read, you realize that he's the hound that's just about ready to start hunting you down.

His bottom lip is tucked underneath the same teeth that are now chewing the tender flesh from deeply pondering a thought which you'll never get the pleasure of knowing.

Kiba steps from one foot to another, loosing a huffed chuckle before he looks you in the eye again; seemingly satisfied with his conclusion.

Time to go all-in.

"You know," he says, voice wary, "I've got loads of other stuff from way back when we were kids, saved in a box upstairs, if you wanna check it out?"

He pauses for a second as his head whips to the side. He looks over his shoulder, and you can see him scan the room quickly; searching for something, or rather someone, before he turns back towards you and adds, "It's, uh... It's up in my room."

You quirk a brow at the suggestion. "You want to take me up to your room?"

Is he seriously asking what you think he is?

"Yeah," he says a bit more confidently now, scratching the back of his neck. His face is red as he mutters, "But only if you want to, of course."

"Hmm." You spend two or three seconds pretending that you're thinking it over just to see him fidget and squirm a bit more, before you at long last give him a slow nod of your head, "Sure, I guess."

Kiba seems relieved, until: "Though, I should probably go tell Naruto, so that he knows where I am."

Pushing from the counter, you dust off the imaginary lint from your cute skirt, however before you can even look up at him, his hand is back to pressing against the marble; blocking your path.

It seems that you aren't going anywhere.

Kiba's eyes are dark and glazed, the iridescent flecks of gold lazily swirling inside the liquid amber whenever the light catches the irises just right. He's looking down at you with a furrowed brow and an expression that's pretty bitter, unlike his honey eyes, but you only realize that he can't stop staring at your mouth when he says, "Maybe we shouldn't tell Naruto about where we're goin', sweetheart."

You aren't stupid. You know that the words have a deeper meaning. And now, you have yet another reason for your hunch to be proven right on why he doesn't want your brother to find out where you're going with him. Still, you push his limit, feeling him out, "And why is that?"

"He's probably busy." His voice is firm as he looks down at you when you flutter your eyelashes up at him. Perhaps it even owns a certain edge of frustration to it.

You sound like a bimbo when you reply, "Ah, I see."

You stare at each other as you feel the buzz of tension to sear your skin in mind-numbing waves. They're hitting against you both like you're cliffs that are constantly being kissed by the rowdy sea.

You can almost taste the anticipation of what's to come. Meanwhile, Kiba can nearly taste your saliva mixing with his own.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Kiss you, until you won't be able to feel your mouth anymore from how hot his tongue is to stroke yours and scorch you.

He's been imagining how it'd be like to kiss that pouty mouth ever since he was fourteen. And now - at twenty-two - he wants to know just as bad.

"Well?" he utters, impatience peeking through the mask he's put on ever since you've shown up at his front door.

"Chill, you idiot," you giggle finally, nodding again, "I won't tell Naruto if you don't want me to."

It'll be our little secret.

Relief washes over him yet again. He smirks as he moves at your compliance, offering you his hand like those cocky gentlemen in the films you're an absolute sucker for. "Well, shall we, then?"

The action is so cheesy and sweet, that you don't even hesitate to place your palm upon his own, not realizing the consequences of your decision in that moment. 

His grip is tight and possessive in all the right ways. You can't remember the last time you've held hands with him, but it certainly didn't feel like this.

"Lead the way, Kib."

And so, Kiba does.

---

"Christ, I haven't been up here in forever."

"And yet, you seem to have made yourself quite at home."

You turn to look at him from your spot on his bed you've just plopped down and made yourself comfortable on. His childhood bedroom is a bit different than what you saw the last time you were here, but what exactly has changed?

The bed is certainly bigger, as well as the wardrobe that stands in one corner opposite from where you're currently sitting. All of the furniture is made out of rich oak, exactly like most of the house; as well as the desk that's covered in random clutter, mostly consisting of notebooks, bright highlighters and sticky notes, which he must have brought home from college.

The movie posters to adorn the walls are still there, and somehow compliment the cosy aesthetic of his space. You spot the fluffy-looking dog bed that's set-up right next to his desk. It's empty.

"Is Akamaru with your mom?"

"Yeah, they won't be back until tomorrow evening," Kiba replies, closing the door, "now stop snooping through my stuff, will ya?"

"Uh, it's called looking around? Who said I was snooping?" The scoff you let out in answer is nothing short from derisive as you say, "And besides, it's not like there'd be anything new to find... Not much has changed; seeing that your room is still as messy as it was when you were ten."

"It ain't that messy," he retaliates, fingers wrapping around the key that's secured in the lock. He stands next to the door for a couple of seconds, making you stare at his back in puzzlement.

His voice is surprisingly quiet and soft when he speaks again, though thankfully you can still hear him over the muffled noise of music that's still being blasted downstairs, "By the way, uh... Do you mind if I lock the door?"

Oh?

The smirk which insists on curling the corners of your gloss-coated lips upwards is hard to hide. "Why would you lock it?"

He pauses again, body going still. You just know the gears within his head are turning at the speed of light. You can't help but wonder if it hurts him to think this much; this hard, when he says, "I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

Your reply is as swift as an arrow: "Don't you think locking the door would give them that exact idea in the first place, Kiba?"

For fuck's sake, you're too clever and witty for your own good; always have been. It's infuriating, but Kiba tames the tone of his voice into something sweeter by swallowing hard. "Let's hope not."

Before you can quip anything back at him, the lock clicks into place. Click! - your fate is sealed with his decision. God help you.

"Wow," you snort, shaking your head, "thanks for having the decency to at least ask me if I wanted the door locked, I suppose."

Kiba flashes you a playful, closed-eyed smile when he turns around and makes his way towards the wardrobe. You try to your best ability to not ogle at the way the flannel tightens around his broad shoulders and back when he raises his arms to pick up the box he's been telling you about.

Still, no matter how hard you try to look away, it seems to be literally impossible for you to quit glancing in his direction whenever the rippling muscle shifts underneath the cotton with every minuscule movement he makes.

The sports scholarship must have done him good, because he's fit and fucking fine as hell.

Though, not in the tall and lean way kind of fit, like he's been during most of his teenage years. No, as a proper adult, Kiba is appealingly vigorous and buff; owning strength you can't quite possibly imagine being unleashed upon your smaller frame.

He'd be able to crush you into a pulp if he ever wished to do so. To squeeze your throat until you'd be fighting against him, so that he'd allow air into your lungs. To hold you up without any sort of trouble as he'd fuck you against the goddamn wall.

You're not entirely sure if the knowledge of that last one thrills you, or instead frightens you right to the bone which he'd be able to break right in half anyway. Still, possibly scared or not, you might just start drooling at the sight of him.

You're looking at him like he's a piece of meat you'd like to chew on. How pathetic of you to be this shallow.

And how pathetic of him to be doing the exact same thing.

"Okay," he mumbles as he brings the box over and plops down onto the bed right next to you, "let's see what's in here."

Kiba flicks the lid off, the tiniest of smiles creeping up on his lips at the audible gasp you let out as soon as the items come into view.

The box is filled with seemingly completely random clutter, but after taking a closer look, you recognize the tiny sea-shells, the movie tickets, as well as all the postcards you've sent him. It's more than ten years of life - stuffed into a cardboard shoebox.

You spend the next half hour going through the box with him, reminiscing about memories that are both equally as sweet as they are nostalgic, sharing laughs and teasing each other as they bring you closer together; sewing up that gap of unfamiliarity between you with every passing second and exchanged relic.

Kiba's heart is fluttering with every drunken, tinkling giggle you're letting out, as well as the way your entire expression brightens because of him.

And he - the smitten, poor man that he is - just can't stop looking at you, because he's missed this. Talking to you, bringing those beaming smiles forth everytime he makes you laugh; just being in your warm presence, overall. Truth be told, he's missed all of it.

He's missed you.

"Can't believe you've kept all of this, Kib," you utter softly, reading the postcard you've sent him nearly nine years ago, "most of these literally make no sense. I'm just blabbering about my vacation, but in writing."

"I know. I suppose you could call me sentimental, eh?" He laughs quietly as he leans in and trails the tip of his finger over the scribbles you've written down when you were eleven. "But I always liked the lil' hearts you drew for me on every one."

"The hearts?"

"Yeah, look," he says as he pushes even closer to you, pointing to the corner of the postcard, "here's one. And... Another one."

His index finger brushes against your thumb when he points to the second doodle of a heart on the postcard you're still holding. He's sprawled on his side, supporting himself with one elbow and reclining so close to you, that you can smell his cologne all over again.

The scent clouds your mind for a second time that night. You're right back inside that rainy forest again; wishing to lie down onto the damp, moss-covered ground and just be fucking overtaken by the fog, until you'd feel the chill of its kiss on your neck.

The thought makes you drop the postcard somewhat absent-mindedly as you turn to look at him. He's much closer than you've realized, because as soon as you make eye contact; your faces are mere inches apart, the tips of your noses almost touching.

You can see all of his freckles this up-close, as well as the dimple in his cheek which shows up when one corner of his mouth tugs to the side. Something within you begins to glow when he looks at you so very warmly with those big, fierce amber eyes of his.

He makes you feel special with just one look alone. Unique. One of a kind.

"What is it, cutie?" His voice is barely above a whisper now.

"Nothing, I just," you mumble as heat sears your face at the pet name, "I think I must be very drunk right now, because I actually think you look super pretty up-close."

"Oh?" Kiba snickers at what you admit. "Why, thank you. Wish I could say the same for you, but you're kind of blurry for me right now."

"Ha ha, funny." You roll your eyes at him, shoving him away by pressing your palm against his chest. However, before you can even fully extend your arm to use more force, his fingers are wrapping around your wrist; tugging you closer in one swift movement.

He yanks you towards himself, until you're practically hovering above his face with your own. You're so close that you're sharing your breaths, staring into each other's eyes - both of your pupils dilating at the intimate closeness.

"I-I'm very drunk right now, Kiba," you repeat, cursing yourself internally for the stutter.

"As am I," he replies quietly, pushing your hand firmer against his chest. You can feel his rapid heartbeat right underneath the tips of your fingers again. The rhythmic sensation makes you gather up the cotton of his crisp, white t-shirt between your own digits as you clutch it tightly.

Your forehead presses against his own. You're almost breathless already, and he hasn't even kissed you. "This... This might not be a good idea."

"We haven't done anything," he utters in a hushed whisper, the hand that was just holding your wrist snaking up to caress your cheek. He trails the tip of his finger over your cheekbone, eyes glued to your mouth, "And we don't have to either, if that's not something you want."

The alcohol is pushing you to tell the truth. It's promising you that you'll feel better if you admit your feelings that have been there for ages. That the fear you feel is nothing compared to the relief that's to come.

"The problem is that I, uh... I do." You sigh, inching closer and closer, "I do want to."

Oh, god. Kiba's heart is just about ready to burst from joy at your answer. He feels nauseous from how overwhelmed all the feelings are making him. He just has to feel everything so strongly, doesn't he? It's amazing how he hasn't burned out yet, but he has to keep it together. Has to keep himself in check for you.

"Yeah?" His chuckle is dark in humour as he cups your cheek tighter, "You want me to kiss you?"

"Ye-... Yeah."

Kiba doesn't need anything else. His lips latch to your own as soon as you get the approval out, and the moment your mouths connect in panting, careful kisses that become hotter and hotter with passion with each one that follows after the other, it's everything you could have possibly wished for.

Kissing him is better than whatever you've imagined for all these years. He tugs on your bottom lip, spoils the upper one with affection, warms them both with his gentle sigh. You can't believe it took you this long to actually get to feel that plush mouth of his pressing against your own this softly, this tenderly.

Better late than never, you suppose.

He pulls back after a while, taking a deep, shaky breath. You're both chuckling quietly now, avoiding each other's eyes and not saying anything; too stunned to speak from the kiss you've just shared. His face is gaining the colour of a red tomato. He just likes you so much.

"Fuck, that was..." He's quiet for a moment, shaking his head with a grin that owns the power to bring you to your knees as he says, "Can I, uh... Can I kiss you again, maybe?"

"Yes," you barely let out, before his mouth is back upon your own.

His warm tongue strokes your bottom lip, silently asking for entrance. As soon as your lips part with a content sigh, he's pushing against you, tasting and gliding over every crevice within your sweet mouth, as well as the roof of it - tasting you for the very first time, and relishing you thoroughly because of it.

You can feel him forcing you into the mattress as the kisses flow between you and the tension you feel spreads through your entire body like a wildfire; until you're lying down on your side, and he's hovering above you exactly like you've done just a minute prior. 

He's more eager now; overtaking your mouth with his tongue and the quick, slightly painful prickles which burn whenever he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip. A small moan manages to slip past your mouth at the sensation when he tugs on your swollen lip that's long since lost all the gloss from how harsh your kissing is turning.

The sound of your mewl is so appealing that it makes him lazily part his eyelids, which are so heavy and hooded that he's barely keeping them open. Kiba watches you completely melt into the kiss he's been waiting to happen for literal ages. You look so sweet that he can barely control himself.

His chest feels like it's going to explode, and not from the lack of air, but from all the emotions he's feeling all at once again.

Your hands are running through his chestnut hair; entire body squirming and writhing when he trails his own palm down your side. He stops at the hem of your skirt, eager fingers twitching from anticipation as he asks, "Want me to touch you, too?"

Your voice is breathless as you whine, "Please."

"Look at you, asking so nicely." He snickers quietly, the smirk on his mouth tricksy, "Didn't know you had it in you."

And before you can even come up with a witty reply to his teasing, he's kissing you yet again, his warm hand grasping and squeezing the plush flesh of your thigh. His touch is greedy and possessive. It makes your core burn even hotter with wildish need.

His hand squeezes your thigh so harshly that it burns. You're gasping into his mouth in response to the ache, before he inches higher up to the inner part. The noises you're making as you're parting your legs to help him gain better access are adorable, and are also the reason why his dick keeps twitching inside his pants. He can feel the surge of warmth rushing to his groin. You're making him hard just by sound alone.

He keeps circling the spot where you need him most as he plays with you; testing your patience. He's so close but yet so far, making the tension within you build up to the point where you can feel your skin tightening over your bones because of it. 

"Kiba," you whisper, tugging on his hair to bring him closer, "st-stop messing around."

"Here?" His voice is nearly a gentle coo as he at long last rubs a digit over the damp spot of arousal on your pretty panties, completely disregarding your empty warning, "You want me to touch you here, cutie?"

"Mhmmm," you hum, dazed already from the sensation.

He taps the lace with a single rough fingertip, nearly making you purr from the way he's pressing against your clit over the fabric. "Take these off for me, then, pretty please?"

You don't have to be told twice. His request is so sweet that you're eager as ever as you reach underneath your skirt, hook your fingers around the waistband and tug the delicate lace down your legs.  

Kiba's hand finds you the second your panties hit the floor of his room. Your eyelids flutter at the contact, but you somehow force them to stay open, so that you can watch his smug smile as he trails a fingertip over your soaking pussy; gathering the arousal you've been trying to hide from him the entire night.

His voice is a rough whisper as he traces lazy circles over your throbbing clit, "So wet for me, huh? It seems like you haven't been touched in a while."

"It's been a lonely couple of months, yeah."

"That silly boyfriend of yours ain't around anymore, hmm?"

"We br-broke up."

"Good. I was growing tired of seeing his stupid face on your Insta all the time."

All you can do is nod as you stare up at him, your bottom lip tucked underneath your teeth. With one side of his face splashed in the soft glow of the light coming from the desk lamp that's positioned on the other end of the room, Kiba looks absolutely stunning.

His amber eyes shine golden when your leg hooks around his hip, so that you can give more space to that big hand of his as he pleasures you.

He keeps toying with you, rubbing your clit in soft circles that give you just enough friction to make your legs shake, and for your pussy to clench around nothing. The desire to be filled up by him is making you foam at the mouth. You're on the verge of going completely feral.

"Kiba, c'mooon," you whine, "I thought I've told you to stop mes- Fuck...! Oh, god."

"Hm? What was that?" His words are a lazy drawl as he now starts to pump two fingers inside you, stroking your hot, sensitive walls, "Did you say something, sweetheart?"

You're tugging on his hair so harshly that it makes him hiss as you try to fuck yourself on his fingers, "Holy shit, that feels so good."

"Needy," he mumbles quietly, his thumb still stroking your clit. He curls his fingers and forces himself even deeper inside you, until you can feel the brush of knuckles against your walls. Despite your hushed pleas to go faster, he keeps the languorous pace; sending your mind into absolute overdrive. 

Your hands are clumsy as they slide down his chest and dip to his belt buckle. You're growing frustrated from being such a klutz, until you at long last hear that satisfying click! as you unbuckle his belt on your third attempt. Quickly undoing the button and zipper of his jeans, you're eager to finally slip your hand into his black boxer briefs.

You stroke him over the fabric first. He pushes against you in an instant; chasing that extra friction as you try to cup and fondle as much as you can. You could have sworn that you feel him twitch as his breathing picks up its speed.

You're both looking down now, staring at your hands that are exploring each other's bodies.

The groan to leave the back of his throat makes you feel absolutely primal as you use one hand to tug the boxers down just enough for his cock to push free from the tight confines of his clothes, and the other to stroke him properly this time around.

The gasp to leave your lips is as astonished as your gawking. You've been wondering how he looked like underneath all those layers ever since you were fifteen and had gotten that first wave of hormones flooding your brain.

And as you're ogling at him so blatantly now, eyeing his throbbing cock and the pre-cum that's leaking out the tip, you realize that his size could best be described as nerve-wracking.

Your fingers are hesitant to wrap around him properly because of how tiny your hand looks compared to his dick, and yet you still do it anyway. Kiba's hand clamps around your own the moment you make contact, forcing you to tighten your grip and start pumping.

"Fuck," he whispers, eyes dark and murky at the touch, "that feels so good."

He's copied you word for word.

"Aha," you utter nervously, feeling him pick up his pace, "so, so good, Kib."

He feels big in your hand, the surge of blood making his dick so hard and throbbing that you're worried how on earth you'll make him fit if things actually escalate in that direction. If he doesn't calm down, he might just tear you apart with his cock.

The handjob you're giving him is as sloppy as the kisses you're sharing while he fingers you. It's so intimate and overwhelming; the way you're pushing against one another, writhing on his bed so much that you're both starting to sweat. 

"Wanna fuck you," he groans into your mouth at some point, his words nearly incoherent from the way you're gliding your tongue along his front teeth, "wanna fuck you so bad, cutie."

"Do it," you gasp when he applies more pressure to the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you squirm against him. The need you feel comes first before the nervosity. You'll deal with your wrecked insides after he fucks you silly.

"Yeah?" he murmurs softly, kissing your jawline when your head tips back from the pleasure, "You'll let me fill up that cute pussy of yours?"

Heat crawls up your neck at his question and your answer, "Yeah."

He quickens his pace. "Pound it, too?"

"Yes...!"

Kiba lets out a short, huffed laugh at your enthusiasm before he presses a messy smooch right against your panting mouth. The sound echoes throughout the bedroom, making you giggle in reply. His face is so red. You doubt that it's from the alcohol now.

Thick fingers leave you slowly, rubbing the sweet arousal all over your inner-thighs and clit as he says, "Turn around for me."

You're worse than an obedient slut, or a feral bitch in heat from how happily you follow his orders. As soon as your back is turned towards him, your gaze falls upon the mirror of the wardrobe that's right opposite you.

The sight of your body as it twists and recoils on top of the bed sheets is a pitiful one, but it's quickly obscured by the fluttering of your eyelashes as soon as you feel him rub his cock over your dripping heat.

His mouth is right next to your ear when he whispers, "You on the pill?"

"Mhmm."

"Okay," he says, kissing your neck lovingly. You can feel the graze of his sharp canines slide across your pulse point when he adds, "gonna fuck you raw, then. Nice and slow, to really savour the feeling of that lil' cunt."

You're arching your back in response, pushing your ass towards his hips while your spine is pressing flush against his heaving chest.

Kiba slowly aligns himself with your sopping, tight hole. Now, your whimper is more of a cry than a moan as he begins to stretch you out with every inch he's leisurely pushing into your warmth. Even he's surprised that he's patient enough to be this gentle, but he just cares for you so much.

Your upper lip quivers as tears brim your eyes from the burn to sear through you. His forearm flexes as it tightens around your middle to keep you from outright running away from him. The shifting of muscles you see in the mirror as his grip turns tenacious is a welcome distraction.

"You're taking it so well, cutie," he encourages you delicately, using every chance to push himself in deeper, "you gonna keep taking my cock, right? Gonna keep being good for me?"

You can't form words, so you only nod as he keeps forcing himself further and further between your walls, sighing at the friction and the tight, wet warmth to surround him. You're on the cusp of crying by the time he at long last bottoms out within you, groaning at the sensation of being balls deep inside your soaking cunt.

"Fuck," he curses, breathing quick, "I've wanted to do that since I was seventeen."

"Kiba," you whine his name out, arching your back again, "it-it's too much...!"

It really is. He's taking over your entire capacity, and you feel like you're about to burst.

"Nu-uh," he smirks, not taking no for an answer as he kisses your temple, "you just need a lil' time to get used to it. Imma stretch you out real nice, sweetheart. We're gonna have so much fun."

Your fingers tighten their grip on the bed sheet, until you're literally clawing at it when he pulls his hips back and slams them right back into you with a lewd squelching noise and a smack!

"Oh, god!" Your eyes are sent rolling into the back of your head when he does it again. And again.

"No god here, 's just me," he laughs quietly, gaining a steady rhythm when it comes to destroying your insides. You're leaking milky arousal right down to the hilt of his dick as he keeps slamming home into you, making you cry out profanities every two seconds or so.

The noises you're both making mix with your heavy breathing and the sound of muffled music that's still thundering downstairs without stop. You're both so invested into each other that neither you nor him can recognize the song that's playing in that exact moment. All that matters are his grunts and your soft moans. As well as the friction. Holy fuck, the friction.

"You're a sucker for this, aren't you?" He pants into your ear, ramming himself into you with even more force, "You love the way my cock fills up your cute cunt, and how it hurts when I make you take it; all of it."

"I do," you sob out, face contorting from the intense pleasure, "I lo-love it so much...!"

"Fuck yeah, you do, cutie," he grits out, teeth clenched, "fuck yeah, you do."

You can't see his face in the mirror, but just the sight of his big, rough hands roaming your front; greedily lifting your top until your bra is exposed, and groping at your tits without any kind of respect is enough to make you want to scream his name until the entire house could hear.

Luckily for you, he chokes you before you can do it, though the desire is still there. He's making you feel that good.

So good, in fact, that the heat in the pit of your stomach is becoming unbearable. You're on the verge of erupting into pure bliss from the mind-shattering orgasm that's coming up; lingering just around the corner. There'll be nothing left of you if he keeps this up. He'll make you blaze, until you're nothing but ash.

"S-So close," you manage through shallow breaths because he's barely allowing you to breathe while you're rolling your hips against his own for that extra push, "please, please, fucking please."

"Already?" He laughs at your fucked out state as his expert digits hook around your thigh. Lifting your leg without warning, the pressure within your core swells and grows bigger and bigger. His fingers dig into the back of the plush flesh before he trails them upwards; aiming them for your clit again.

"Kiba," you gasp his name once more, feeling his grip around your throat tighten in response as he pulls you even closer to his chest, "fuck, please, I-... Need it...! Need to cum so bad."

"I thought you said you liked to be teased a little?" 

"Just do it, god fucking damn!"

"All right, all right!" He chuckles lowly, "So impatient, damn... Keep your leg up for me."

The moment his rough finger pads make contact with your demanding clit, your entire body spasms in his tight hold, fire licking at your skin with ferocious hunger. You can see it all in the mirror, the way the veins atop his tan skin protrude as he applies the pressure you need to become undone in the end.

"Ri-Right there. Fuck, yes...!" Your whispers are a trembling jumble of moans and whimpers. Kiba is chuckling quietly, his smile pressing against the back of your head as he keeps fucking you; keeps slamming you into goddamn oblivion. You're delicate like glass, but he sure as hell isn't going to handle you that way.

"Yeah?" He drawls tiredly, blushing at the lewd, wet sounds your lovemaking is producing. You're so wet that he's mesmerized in a way. Never before had a girl been this excited to have him. It's like a present. "Like this, baby?"

"Mhmm, like that."

"Gonna cum for me?"

"Wanna, yeah. So bad."

His laughter warms your very soul. "You're such a slu-"

"Kiba!" The sudden knock to come from the door makes you both stiffen, bodies turning rigid at the suspense of what's going to happen next. Your heart is pounding inside your ribcage, because the voice you've just heard sounds familiar. Especially when it says: "Yo, Kiba! You in there?"

Naruto.

The hushed exclamation of panic to leave you is quickly stifled by Kiba's palm that covers your mouth in a movement that's faster than lightning. He's panting now, leaning into your ear, going, "Shh, shh, shh. Keep quiet."

All you do to reply is make a muffled noise, fingers curling around his arm that's still keeping busy between your legs. He's never stopped fucking you; even whilst your brother is standing right on the other side of the door.

You're lucky Kiba had decided to lock it, because now you can hear the sound of the handle as Naruto tries it.

"Kiba," your sibling repeats, knocking again, "hellooo?"

The irritation to lace Kiba's voice is so profound that it sets your teeth on edge as he shouts, "What? I'm busy, man!"

"Busy? With what?"

"Fucking your sister."

Holy fucking hell.

Your eyes widen in shock, another muffled noise escaping your lips as you twist and turn to fight back against the tight grip he holds you in, but Kiba refuses to let you go. He fights right back, using his weight to press you flush against the mattress as he makes you roll onto your stomach.

His hands wrap around your wrists, shoving them both into the pillow to keep you from thrashing on top of his bed.

The moment he pushes his cock all the way into your warmth again, you go completely still. The new, deeper angle makes your breath stagger in the back of your throat. It takes all you have within you to not moan as loudly as you can as you try to crawl towards the headboard of the bed to pull yourself up.

He just can't stop fucking you, unable to release you from the cage his body has created around you. He's been waiting for too long; daydreamed and fantasized about this exact moment far too much to just allow Naruto to cockblock him yet again. He wants to see this entire thing to its end. Wants to see you cream on his dick, and to kiss you right after.

"You idiot," you cry out into the pillow, "why'd you tell him that?"

"Stop squirmin' around," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, "you wouldn't want your big brother to hear us, now would you? And besides, it's not like that moron is ever gonna take it seriously."

"Ha, wow, you're so funny!" Naruto snorts in that exact moment, his voice the epitome of intoxication and proving Kiba right, "Speaking of y/n: do you know where she is? It's been a while since I've last seen her."

"I dunno, I think she left early to go hang out with her friend, or some shit," Kiba replies, eyeing your writhing body underneath him with a smirk as he keeps pushing, and pushing, and pushing until it hurts, "now quit nagging me, will ya? You're annoying as fuck, and I don't really care where your sister is."

He's a good liar, at least. And a mean one, too.

When you whip your head to the side to look up at him, he's shaking his own head no, leaning in quickly to kiss your cheek.

"Didn't mean any of that," he whispers into your ear, peppering soft kisses to the corner of your jaw, "don't be angry with me."

All you do is roll your eyes and lift your ass up higher into the air by arching your back. Kiba chuckles at the sinful portrayal of truce between you, biting back a groan when he burrows himself so deep inside you that he's kissing your cervix with every thrust.

You're so close that your toes are curling in on themselves. As he picks up his pace again, trying to make it as silent as he can, you're biting into the pillow, squeezing your eyes shut from the euphoria to start overtaking you.

Kiba can feel your walls clenching around him; can feel them spasming and pulsating around his cock as your pretty cunt tries to milk him dry - tries to force the cum right out of him. 

You look fucking beautiful like this; panting and drooling on his pillowcase as you attempt to stay quiet. It just makes him torture you even more. Especially when his fingers find your clit again.

You're clenching around him so hard that it nearly hurts as he strokes, pinches and spoils your sensitivity with his rough touch. He's completely dazzled from how well you're taking him. And as for you: all you can feel is his hand as it covers your mouth again just to be safe the moment before you're finally pushed over the edge.

And then, you're falling. Falling into true, utter bliss that only some good, ferocious pounding can bring.

He fucks you like an animal throughout your entire high, never once stopping in slamming home and torturing that sweet, sensitive spot deep within you - not even as your entire body shakes when you gush milky slick all over his cock and make it drip onto the bed sheet. It spurts and stains your inner-thighs; makes it even easier for him to abuse your cute pussy from how slick it is now.

"Ki-Kiba."

"Holy fuck, cutie," Kiba whispers, caressing your cheek lovingly as he keeps pounding; drilling into you, "you're so hot."

"Kiba!" Naruto shouts in that moment.

"What?!"

"Christ, man... Don't gotta be so grumpy all the time." He sighs, "Did she tell you which friend she was going with?"

Kiba looks down at you again, trying not to pay mind to just how fucking gorgeous you look with your skirt hiked up around your waist and sweat glimmering on your skin as you keep bouncing on top of the mattress everytime he pounds into you. His tongue flicks over the side of your neck as he murmurs, "Sweetheart?"

Your pupils are dilating inside your glazed irises when you look up at him. You're completely dazed from the high you've just experienced. Goddamn, he fucks like other men can only dream about fucking. He's worse than a beast. More insatiable than Greed itself. "Mm, Tenten... Tell him it's Tenten. She'll cover for me."

He grins at the lie before he calls out, "I think it was some chick called Tenten."

Naruto's reply is quick. "Ah, okay! That fits."

"Go away now, stupid!"

"Yeah, yeah! Going away now, you fuckin' grouch!"

You're both silent for a couple of seconds as you wait for Naruto to leave you alone before you finally allow yourself to giggle quietly.

Kiba joins in a moment later, snickering against your shoulder. He rests his forehead upon it and sighs. You can feel the layer of sweat sticking to his skin. He's completely drenched in salt, and so are you. Must be the clothes you were both far too impatient to take off.

"Fuckin' hell," he mutters quietly as you flip onto your back and wrap your legs around his waist with a sheepish grin, "he's always trying to cockblock me when it comes to you, I swear. Even without knowing it."

Your brow quirks in wicked amusement. "Oh? You've tried to hit on me before?"

Colour blooms on his tan face when he looks down at you and leans in to kiss you again. His arms are on both sides of your head as he looms above you. He's so big and bulky that he overtakes you completely. It makes you feel safe, instead of threatened.

There's just something peculiar seeing this completely new, unexplored side of him after knowing him for years. It's thrilling.

"I've wanted to text you and ask you out so many times," he mumbles, unsure if it's the alcohol talking or his heart, "I've been crushin' on you since I was a kid, but, uh... I was Naruto's friend first, ya know...? I didn't wanna make it weird between us."

"I get it, Kib." The tips of your noses are touching before he tilts his head to the side and kisses you again - this time deeply, slowly; sensually. The way he moves now is intimate and it means something deeper than it did before. You're both rocking alongside each other, trying to match each other's pleasantly laggard pace.

"Do you," he mumbles, staring down at you through hooded, heavy eyelids, "get it?"

"Yeah," you sigh, your own eyelids fluttering at the pleasant sensation of being so full, "I've been crushing on you for years, too."

"Ha, knew it."

"Don't laugh, now."

"Okay, okay."

The deep, raspy grunts to leave his mouth mix with your breathless gasps and quiet whimpers. Especially when he lifts your leg and places it on top of his shoulder, so that he can brand your fucking soul with his mark.

You're clawing at his damp t-shirt, trying to gain hold of him as much as you possibly can, so that you can keep him as close as he lets you. 

"You're so fuckin' pretty, y/n."

"You're pretty, too."

"Can't call me handsome?"

"No."

The bashful chuckles to leave both of your mouths fade into silence when you kiss again, tongues tangling into something more gentle and sincere. He's so close to you that all you can breathe in is him. He makes you glow from within yet again; like your heart is being submerged in liquid sunshine.

You've missed him so much. He's been the one for all this time, after all.

"Fuck, that's it."

"Mm, yeah... So good."

"Gonna-... Gonna cum soon."

The headboard of the bed starts to slam against the wall as Kiba picks up his pace, every thrust becoming quick and hard when he at long last allows himself to reach his finish. His brow furrows when your panting mouth latches to his own hungrily, swallowing the groan he lets out as the heat to build up within his lower stomach finally spills right into your goddamn womb in the form of thick, warm ropes of cum that paint your walls entirely white.

His entire body feels like it's on fire. The release is as heavenly as was the build-up.

You follow a fraction of a second later, writhing underneath him in your own high as you cling onto him, leaking a mixture of your own juices of pleasure and his seed. It's messy, and hot, and so fucking overwhelming that you both feel slightly dizzy as you try to breathe in as much air as possible.

You're both soaked in sweat, but he still holds you so tightly that it hurts while you're both losing yourselves in each other, and you don't mind at all that your bones are nearly breaking in half as he keeps whispering sweet praises into your ear; telling you how good it feels, how goddamn proud he is of you.

"Such a good girl," he murmurs as he kisses you again and again, "such a pretty, clever girl."

You're still absolutely dazed, cunt clenching around him in attempt to gather every last drop of his warm cum, head tipped back in complete ecstasy as he's kissing your jaw. 

You can't move. He's fucked you stupid, so it's no wonder that your only, rather brainless, response is:

"Happy birthday, Kiba."

[ao3komorii]

Tangling with the Lifeguard (Pool Party Sett/Reader)

The Pool Party Sett story is done! I’ve gone with a beach!AU sort of setting where league races exist in a modern-day beach sort of place. Also sorry to any MF or Syndra mains, they don’t really come out the best in this xD Hope you enjoy, and as always, there is a smut warning for the end!

---

The sun was shining high in the sky, crystalline waters lapping against the shore as beachgoers took advantage of the perfect summer day. Taking in the scene from your place in the shade of a tree on the border between the beach and parking lot, you let a smile grace your lips as you mused on just how much this place seemed to not change, even after so many years.

The last time you had set foot on this beach, you had been twelve years old, full of excitement and unaware of the harsh realities of the adult world. Your parents had brought you here for that summer, now thirteen years ago, the beautiful beach an unforgettable experience. You had left after that summer with treasured memories, and a new friend, that same friend the very reason why you had returned to Port Navori beach after so long.

Taliyah had been the same age as you, with fairly lax parents who let her roam the beach by herself, even as the small twelve-year-old she had been. You had bonded instantly, spending almost every day together, and keeping in touch through letters, and later emails and text messages.

You had long said that you had wanted to come back and visit the lively beach town, but the timing hadn’t been right, not until this year.

You were done all your schooling, and had quit your high-stress, low-pay job, and as Taliyah had said on your last phone call, you had no reason not to visit. Her parents had been travelling the world since they retired, so you would have her house all to yourselves.

In your absence, Taliyah had become a fairly accomplished surfer in the local scene, working at an ice cream shop on the beach to support her expensive pursuits. She had been so insistent that you couldn’t find yourself able to refuse her offer; work in the ice cream shop with her in the day, and then spend the rest of your time catching up with each other. You had missed your friend dearly, and had accepted the offer without a second thought.

And now here you were, waiting at the beach’s edge for Taliyah to show up. She had told you to dress for the beach, sounding casual as was her usual, so you had worn a swimsuit with a short, flowy shoulderless dress on overtop. Unwilling to look like a lobster by day’s end, you had carefully layered yourself with sunscreen, and now all you needed was for your friend to get here already. Just when you were about to get out your phone to text her, an excited call of your name had you re-stowing the phone in your bag and looking back to see your friend bounding across the parking lot towards you.

Taliyah, dressed in a two-piece water suit and carrying a tropical-flower-print surfboard, came to a stop before you, leaning her surfboard against a tree to free her arms to tackle you in a hug.

“You’re finally here!” she grinned, surprising you with the strength of her hug. “We’re gonna have so much fun!”

“So what’s first?” you asked as you pulled back from the hug.

Taliyah hummed. “I guess I’ll show you the shop.”

You followed her onto the beach, recognizing the small bright blue building from the pictures she had sent you before. Taliyah took you around the back, fishing a key out of her pocket before unlocking the door and leading you into the small room.

There were large tubs of ice cream in the middle of the room, the walls lined with containers of various toppings and machines. On the back wall from you were two windows, glossy menus pasted to the doors that would display out when they were opened. Upon walking closer to the menu signs, you noticed something.

“Hey, it says we open at nine, but it’s ten-thirty…”

“It’s fine,” Taliyah replied with a shrug. “The owners are pretty chill. If anyone complains, I’ll just tell them I had to train the new employee.”

You playfully rolled your eyes. Sometimes you really envied Taliyah’s ability to be so carefree. Her calm energy was a big help for you, having got advice from her on numerous occasions over the years.

Taliyah came over to where you were, eyes flitting boredly to the menu boards before turning her attention back to you. “So I’m thinking we get you taking orders while I make them.”

“Works for me,” you agreed. It certainly sounded easier than figuring out what a poro float was supposed to be. You never knew ice cream stands had such fancy options now, used to the simple menus of ice cream cones and bars back at the shops in your hometown.

You were about to open the order windows when you were stopped by a rustling noise from the back of the store. You turned to see Taliyah digging in a cardboard box in the back corner, pulling out some folded-up fabric that was the same sky blue as the stand.

“Didn’t think you’d get away without an embarrassing uniform, did you?” Taliyah teased, tossing some of her fabric pile your way.

You caught the bundle, unfolding it to find an apron with Poro Palace Frozen Treats in pink bubble letters, little white fuzzy animals dotting the apron. There was an accompanying blue visor hat that looked like something out of a kid’s store. You reluctantly slipped both items of clothing on, looking back to find that Taliyah had done the same.

“Stylish, huh?” she smirked, striking a modelesque pose.

“We look like we work at an amusement park, Tali,” you laughed.

“Feels like it sometimes with all the annoying kids that come by,” she replied. “Okay, you can open it up now.”

Taliyah settled herself down in a chair in front of the section of ice cream tubs, and you reluctantly turned to unlatch and open the windows, unsure of exactly what you were getting yourself into.

The small room lit up with the outside sunlight streaming in from your window to outside, the immediate glare of the sun making you wish you had worn sunglasses.

Almost immediately, the masses were upon you. You noticed a woman with several children in tow who perked up as she laid eyes on you, striding over to you with her children right behind her, pushing each other as they scrambled to be the first one to get over to you.

You heard Taliyah groan behind you. “Get the pen ready. They always have the most annoying orders.”

You rose an eyebrow, but picked up the pen and notepad that sat beside the cash register as the woman came to a stop before you.

“You know, I’ve been waiting for an hour already. You young girls don’t know how hard it is for mothers,” the woman complained, not letting you get a word in edgewise. “Alright, tell her what you want.”

“I want a brownie sundae!” a small boy with blue hair who clearly intended to make full use of his outdoor voice shouted. “But with cotton candy ice cream and pop rocks and I want only blue candies!”

“Uh…” The kid was talking too fast for you to write, but luckily Taliyah had your back, a got it ringing out from behind you.

You weren’t sure how you had managed to get their orders out before they melted, messing up their total several times before Taliyah had to come and help you out. With a last snide look and a fistful of blue napkins, the mother and her little terrors left the stand at last.

“She’s the worst,” Taliyah said, bringing your weary gaze her way as she cleaned off an ice cream scoop. “I accidentally put one red candy in that kid’s sundae once and he screamed until I remade the whole thing!”

You winced. “Feels like we got off easy today.”

“Yeah,” Taliyah agreed. “Helps that they order the same thing every time, so I’ve got some practice.”

“Are they all this bad?” you asked, turning away from the window after seeing no potential customers nearby.

“Not all of them,” she replied with a strained smile. “I swear the heat just brings the jerk out in some of the people here.”

Speaking of jerks… your conversation was interrupted by an impatient-sounding throat clearing noise from behind you. You whirled around to see a redheaded woman with heart-shaped sunglasses and a revealing swimsuit leaning against your counter. She was staring at you like you were gum she had stepped in, flipping some hair over her shoulder when she knew she had your attention.

“Five cherry snowballs,” she said, dropping a few coins on your counter, some of which bounced and hit the floor. “To the red umbrella, thanks ice cream girl.”

Without any further interaction, she turned on her heel and strutted away, hips swinging as she went, leaving you wondering what had just happened.

You slowly turned back to face Taliyah again. “Um, do we usually deliver?”

“Nope,” she answered. “Not to people like that anyways.”

“But…” you protested weakly. You knew Taliyah got away with a lot here, but you didn’t want her to lose her job because some rude girl complained to her bosses. “I’ll just take them over and next time I’ll just say we don’t deliver.”

“Still tempted to put rocks in their snowballs,” Taliyah joked as she set about piling the scoops of red ice.

Soon you had a tray with five cherry syrup-coated piles of shaved ice in little plastic bowls with accompanying little plastic spoons stuck in the side of the dishes.

“I’ll be right back,” you said, heading past Taliyah to the back door, opening it to find yourself back out in the mid-morning heat.

The sand still felt uncomfortably hot underfoot, even with your flip flops on. With how hot it was out, these would have to be delivered as soon as possible to not be a puddle by the time they were eaten. Your only problem was that you had no idea where to go.

The redhead had said that she would be at the red umbrella, but of course nothing at this ice cream stand would be that easy. Standing just outside the hut, you were treated to a veritable rainbow of colored beach umbrellas. You counted at least ten red ones scattered across the beach, none particularly standing out to you. You didn’t have many options, and were forced to go with the most tedious one; checking every red umbrella until you found the girl and her group.

The first umbrella had been a bust, as had the next five. The sixth had led to a sweaty old man who told you that you were just in time to help him sunscreen his back. By the time you had hurriedly fled from that creep, it had been about five minutes of searching, the snowballs on your tray looking considerably droopier than they had been when you had left the shop.

You stared down at the tray of melting treats, unsure of what to do now. Should you go back and have Taliyah remake the snowballs? Try a few more umbrellas and hope you got lucky? You really hadn’t been anticipating this much stress when you had agreed to work here with Taliyah for the summer.

You frowned at the now-more-water-than-ice treats, your decision made. You couldn’t serve these, not as melted as they were. You would go back and help remake them and see if Taliyah had any insight as to which red umbrella was the right one. You turned around to head back to the stand, only to trip on your overheating flip flops and fall forward with a cry.

You had closed your eyes with a flinch as you fell, but opened them with a start as you heard a grunt from right in front of you. Looking up from your position in the burning sand, you felt like your heart was going to stop in your chest.

Standing before you was the most attractive guy you had ever laid eyes on, with fire red hair and a pair of black animal ears that looked soft to the touch. He was dressed in a tight pair of swim shorts, a lightweight red jacket tied around his waist. He had a flower lei around his neck, but that was the only thing that he wore on his top half, his insanely-well-built torso on full display, a torso you realized with horror was currently splattered with red syrup and shaved ice.

You looked from the hot guy to the ground, the sand around you speckled with plastic cups, spoons and napkins, your tray turned upside down in the sand. You slowly risked a gaze back up, only to see the guy staring down at you from behind his pink-tinted sunglasses as a clump of ice fell from his stomach to the sand just in front of your hands.

Embarrassment forced you to spring up, grabbing some stray napkins from the ground and dabbing them against the mess of syrup and ice on the man’s abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, I–” You looked up from your apologizing to see the man silently staring at you, your hand freezing in place as you realized that you were basically feeling this guy up through the napkins, the realization making your cheeks burn with shame and embarrassment.

“I’m really sorry!” you cried out, pulling your hands back. He still hadn’t said anything, and you realized that you couldn’t just stand here like an idiot, your flight instinct kicking in as you reached down to grab your tray before moving around the man and fleeing in the direction of the ice cream stand.

“Hey, wait!”

The man tried to grab your arm as you passed, but you were faster in your embarrassment-fueled retreat, and soon the hot stranger was far behind you. You didn’t stop running until you were back at the shop, the empty sand-logged tray clutched tightly to your chest, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you shut the door, making eye contact with a confused Taliyah.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, getting up to approach you when you didn’t respond. “Talk to me. What happened? If that snob said anything to you–”

“No, no, she didn’t,” you replied weakly, sinking to the floor with your back against the door. “I didn’t even get to her.”

“Then what happened?” she pressed, bringing you a glass of water and prying the tray from your hands at last.

She ushered you to your feet and down into her chair, taking a seat on one of the counters. You took a deep breath, taking a sip of the water before recounting the events of the past ten minutes to Taliyah, who listened silently.

“…I didn’t know what to do, so I just ran,” you finished, setting your water down to bury your face in your hands.

“It’s no big deal,” Taliyah replied gently. “Everyone has embarrassed themselves in front of someone. Remember that time I tripped over my board in front of that group of tourists?”

“I covered him in cherry syrup, Tali,” you groaned. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

“It’s your first day,” she stressed. “You’re bound to mess some things up.”

She stood up, returning to the shaved ice machine. “Now how about we remake those snowballs and then I’ll–”

Taliyah had frozen in place, a plastic cup in her hand as she stared straight ahead.

“Tali?” you questioned, standing up. “Are you–”

“That guy you dumped the snowballs on,” she quickly interrupted. “Did he have majorly cut abs and animal ears?”

“Uh, why?” You felt a jolt of fear shoot up your spine as you followed her gaze to see the man from earlier currently approaching the shop, well-defined abdomen now minus the sticky mess you had spilt all over him. “Oh god, it’s him!”

You and Taliyah exchange wide-eyed glances before you dove down out of sight, hiding behind the tubs of ice cream like they were a fortress.

“Please get rid of him!” you begged. “I’ll do whatever you want, I just can’t face him!”

You heard Taliyah sigh. “Fine, but this means you’re coming stone hunting with me tonight.”

You agreed immediately, even if the prospect wasn’t overwhelmingly appealing. Taliyah was always eager to add to her collection of shiny stones, but was so picky that it often took hours to find just one stone that met her standards. But right now you were so desperate that you would have promised her anything just to make the angry hot guy go away.

From your position behind the ice cream tubs, you could only hear Taliyah’s voice clearly, the general noise of the beach preventing you from hearing what the furry-eared man was saying. You wanted to peek out from your hiding spot, but found yourself chickening out. You really didn’t need him catching sight of you and making Taliyah’s job even harder.

You had gotten so in your own head with panic that you had completely tuned out of your surroundings until a hand waved in front of your face and you realized Taliyah was crouching in front of you, calling your name.

“You okay?” she asked worriedly.

“Is he gone?” you replied quietly.

“Yeah, he’s gone,” she confirmed, standing up and grabbing your forearms to pull you up with her. “Now help me remake those snowballs and then I’ll fill you in.”

You bit your lip as you scooped shaved ice into a row of plastic cups as Taliyah readied the cherry syrup. Soon you had five pristine-looking snowballs on your slightly-sandy tray, the sight of them bringing you back to your moment of collision with the cute guy.

The tray was snatched from your field of vision by Taliyah, who headed over to the rear door. “Be back in a few. Try not to freak out too much while I’m gone.”

And then the door was closed and you were left alone. Looking over at the order window, you decided that you were probably safer to just resume your position behind the ice cream tubs, unwilling to risk being out in the open in case the guy decided to come back.

While she was gone, you couldn’t help but fret over exactly what had been said between your best friend and the mysterious hot guy. She didn’t seem to be upset, so clearly their conversation hadn’t been that intense. Or maybe it had; Taliyah was a fairly relaxed person, so it would be difficult for a random angry customer to really get to her. But that didn’t quite make sense either; if he had yelled at her, you would have heard it over the noise of the beachgoers. All you were doing was overthinking yourself to death, exactly what Taliyah had told you not to do.

And it was there you remained until Taliyah returned, closing the door behind her and placing the serving tray in the sink before she turned her attention to you at last.

“Calm down, it’s fine… I think,” she said.

“You think?”

“Well he didn’t seem mad,” she explained. “He asked if a girl that looked like you worked here and I said you went home sick. Said he’d come back another time.”

“Another–” Oh god. Was he really so angry that he was willing to come back just for the chance to yell at you?

“I can see you freaking out,” Taliyah scolded. “Don’t. You’re fine. Musclehead or not, he’s not going to kill you just because you spilled shaved ice on him.”

She was probably right; hot shirtless guys on the beach likely had more important things to do than yelling at clumsy ice cream shop workers. By tomorrow, he would probably forget you ever existed, and you could go back to enjoying your time working alongside your best friend.

 The rock collecting that night had been long and boring, at least for you. Taliyah hadn’t found any rocks she liked enough to take home, only ending the search after she had found some sea glass that she had deemed acceptable to add to her collection. You could only hope that you wouldn’t owe her any more favors any time soon, unsure if you could survive another late night rock hunt.

The next morning, you entered the shop alongside Taliyah, who put her bag down and began to set up the day’s supplies. Considering it was ten minutes past opening time and Taliyah had insisted that she didn’t need help setting up, you decided that you might as well just open the order window for the day, hoping that mom and her group of demon kids wouldn’t be waiting out there, only to unlatch the widows and see something arguably worse.

The window had only been open a peek, but it was enough for you to see the large figure of the man from yesterday standing ten feet or so from your shop, his back facing you as he stared out at the beach. In your brief glimpse, you also noticed that the jacket wrapped around his waist had a white plus sign in a circle as well as the word lifeguard in white blocky letters above it. Oh god, of course you had gone and pissed off a lifeguard on your first day here.

You shut the barely-open windows with a too-loud slam that made you wince before you quickly locked them again and rushed over to Taliyah.

“Tali, he’s here again!” you hissed.

“Huh?” she replied, pausing her task of refilling a container of sprinkles. “Muscle guy?”

You nodded frantically and Taliyah frowned, putting the sprinkles down and approaching the order window herself. You watched as she opened the window ever so slightly, peering out for a few seconds before closing it back up.

“Well… can’t say I was expecting him to actually come back,” she said evenly.

“What do I even do?” you asked, staring at the order windows like they would burst open at any second and reveal you to the clearly-determined lifeguard. “He’s a lifeguard, Tali! What if he bans me from the beach?”

She rolled her eyes in response. “He can’t just ban you from the beach. Lifeguards don’t have that much power. If they did, I would’ve been banned a long time ago for all the times I’ve surfed after hours.”

“Then what does he want with me?” you asked, looking away from the window.

Taliyah shrugged. “You’d have to ask him that.”

“But what if I… don’t?” you replied weakly. “He’ll give up eventually, right?”

“I mean, maybe?” she said. “But it might be easier to deal with him now and get it over with.”

You saw her point, but it wasn’t her that was being pursued by a tall, muscly lifeguard with a vengeance!

Taliyah clearly caught the reluctance on your face and sighed. “Fine, I’ll switch with you for today. Now let’s go over how to make the basic stuff before we open.”

True to her word, Taliyah had allowed you to hide in the back making orders, telling the lifeguard guy that you were off today. You watched him walk away from behind the shaved ice machine, hoping that your ordeal was finally over, but your hopes were quickly dashed the next day as you went to open the store again, only to see the same broad back facing you from just outside the shop.

Taliyah had reluctantly agreed to switch again that day, and the day after. But by day four, even the promise of helping her scavenge for rocks again wouldn’t get her to agree to switch.

You closed the window again, turning to Taliyah with pleading eyes, but she was having none of it.

“It’s been four days,” she said, arms crossed. “Clearly he’s not giving up. You should just see what he wants.”

“But…” The thought still terrified you. You knew you deserved to be yelled at for what you had done, but it was made that much worse by the fact that the subject of your plight was just about the hottest guy you had ever seen.

Taliyah shook her head at you. “Okay, but I’m not doing orders again today, so if you want to keep hiding from him, we’ll have to move onto plan B.”

Plan B, as it turned out, was a mascot suit of sorts; three fluffy poros stacked on top of each other like a snowman. A poro each made up your upper and lower body, the last poro being the head of the costume. You looked incredibly awkward, the arms and legs of the costume hairy and tipped with little brown claws. You were momentarily stunned by the sheer lengths you were going to just to avoid this guy, but you were already in the costume, so you reasoned that you might as well follow through with it now.

Taliyah put the costume’s head on you and your world was plunged largely into darkness, minus the mesh one-way view out of the top poro’s eyes. You were helped to the back door, some fliers for the store shoved into your hands.

Taliyah helped you walk out front, and you were pretty quickly swarmed by kids. You couldn’t see the lifeguard guy, but the relief that coursed through you was short-lived, swallowed by the immediate explosion of business brought on by your costume.

One thing you hadn’t considered in your haste was the heat. You weren’t sure if it was the costume or if today was hotter than usual, but very quickly you found yourself becoming a sweaty mess under the weight of the dense, furry costume.

The longer you were in the costume, the worse you felt, but you were determined to stick this out. So you handed out fliers and posed for photos with children while Taliyah ran the stand.

You wished that you could wipe the sweat from your face, but you weren’t sure if you could even reach up to remove the costume’s head yourself due to the awkward shape of the costume. So you endured the ever-increasing heat, only feeling wearier as the time ticked by.

You waved goodbye to a group of kids as they left with their ice cream cones, the sweltering heat really bearing down on you. As you went to turn and head back to the stand to ask Taliyah to help get the head off, a wave of dizziness crashed over you. You took one step towards the stand, and then another, and then it all went dark as you felt yourself falling forward, too weak to stop your descent to the ground.

 You woke up with a heavy head, feeling foggy with confusion. The last thing you remembered, you had been heading back to the stand…

Immediately, you realized that you weren’t at the ice cream stand, and you weren’t wearing the poro suit, or even your beach dress. Sitting up in the cot you laid in, you found that you were wearing only your swimsuit.

As you sat up, a blue ice pack that you hadn’t realized was there fell from your forehead and into your lap. Picking it up, the pack only feeling slightly cold, you turned to look around the room, still unsure what exactly was going on.

You were in a room of some sort, guessing it was afternoon by the minute amount of light filtering into the room, even through the closed curtains. There was a fan gently whirring above your head, but otherwise the room was silent.

There was another cot beside yours, and a table nearby with a few red first aid kits stacked on it, some bandages messily spilling out of one of them. There was a sign pulled over the door, the side facing you reading come on in, we’re open.

You got up from the bed, shuddering with disgust when you noticed just how sweaty your whole body was. The bed squeaked as you got up from it, your knees hitting a bedside table between the cots that you hadn’t noticed had been there. On the small table was a glass of water, as well as a white fan that was emblazoned with what looked to be a group of cats waterskiing.

You picked up the fan, letting out a small laugh at the silly-looking cartoon cats on the fan. It looked like something you could win at a carnival booth.

“If you can laugh, then I guess you’re feelin’ alright.”

A deep voice from behind you made you jump, fingers fumbling the fan, which fell onto the floor with a clatter that was only made louder in the quiet room. You turned to look behind you, only to fall off the cot in shock when you saw the very lifeguard you had been trying so hard to avoid standing in the doorway of a small office you hadn’t noticed was there.

“Hey, careful!” He quickly crossed the room to squat down in front of you, taking your elbow and helping you back up onto the cot. You were too stunned to resist and found yourself falling into his chest as a wave of dizziness hit you.

“You okay?” he asked, and you tried to nod, but your head was spinning too much to focus. “Hey, hold still.”

He placed his hands on your shoulders, keeping you steady against him until you were able to regain your focus. When he was satisfied with your condition, he pulled back, releasing your shoulders and instead reaching out for the glass of water on the table next to you.

“Drink,” he instructed, handing you the cup before standing up. “I’ll be right back.”

He stared at you for a moment before finally turning back and heading into the office at the back of the room.

You watched him go, feeling on edge, but complied, bringing the glass up to your lips and taking a long drink. The last thing you wanted to do was give this guy more reason to be upset with you. You were surprised at just how refreshing the water felt, and you had soon downed the entire glass, placing it back on the table when you were done.

“Alright, lay back down,” the lifeguard instructed as he returned.

“What?” you replied. What was he going to do to you? How had you even got here? Where was Taliyah?

He stopped before you, furrowing his eyebrows as he looked down at your shaky, terrified form. “Are you–”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, bowing your head. “I didn’t mean to spill the snowballs on you! If you need to yell at me, go ahead. I’m sorry I didn’t just come out sooner and–”

It had occurred to you mid-ramble that he had yet to say anything, and you cut off your babbling, slowly looking up to find him staring at you with what you could only describe as a bewildered look on his face.

He blinked. “Is that why–”

“I’m so sorry!” you interrupted, bowing your head again. “If you want to ban me from the beach, I get it!”

“Ban ya from the beach?” he replied with a bark of laughter. “The only thing I wanted to do was get your number.”

“My… what?” You had to be hallucinating. There was no way he had just said that.

“Lay down first,” he spoke sternly, and you complied, still feeling stunned by his words.

Once you were laid down, he picked something up from the bed, which you recognized as another ice pack. He placed it on your forehead, the cool pack immediately flooding you with a feeling of relief. Closing your eyes, you let out a tired sigh, suddenly feeling fatigued.

“Get some rest, princess. We’ll talk when you’re up again.”

You took his advice, the cooling from the ice pack lulling you back to sleep, your eyelids too heavy to keep open.

When you woke up again, you felt infinitely better, your head clearer and body feeling less overheated. The ice pack on your forehead was room temperature, and it was now dark outside. There was a light illuminating your left side as you sat up in bed, turning to see the office in the back with its light on.

The cot squeaked under you, which was responded to by the squeak of a chair from inside the office, the red-haired lifeguard emerging from the office and approaching your bedside.

“Feelin’ any better?” he asked, and you nodded, biting your lip nervously. “Got you some more water.”

You looked over to the bedside table to see the water cup refilled and took hold of it, grateful to have something to focus on other than the intimidatingly muscular man before you.

You drank the entire glass before you forced yourself to finally address the situation before you. “Um… why am I here?”

“You passed out,” he replied bluntly, taking a seat on the cot next to yours. “Overheated yourself in that rat costume.”

“They’re not rats, they’re poros,” you replied, unsure of what to say.

He let out a huff of laughter. “Poros that important to you that you’re willin’ to fry yourself for ‘em?”

“No, that was…” you trailed off. Well, you might as well just admit it. If he had gone out of his way to care for you after you had passed out like an idiot, then he deserved the truth. “I was avoiding you. I was scared you were going to yell at me. My friend didn’t want to keep covering for me at the window so I decided to wear that stupid poro costume.”

“So that’s what that was about,” he replied. “And here I thought you were avoidin’ me ‘cuz you weren’t interested. Gave up on gettin’ your number and then got news that someone passed out from heat stroke.”

You were still having a hard time comprehending the asking for your number part, so you instead chose to focus on the other half. “Heat stroke?”

“Not sure what you expected, wearin’ that costume in this heat,” he said. “Can’t say nobody’s ever been afraid of me before, but giving themself heat stroke just to avoid me is a new one.”

He sounded somewhat self-deprecating, and you immediately felt bad. You had clearly misjudged him, and realized that he hadn’t even mentioned the snowball incident himself.

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, even with as awkward as you were currently felt. “I’m sorry for giving you so much trouble, and for spilling snowballs all over you. I’m just really sorry.”

He laughed. “Ain’t nothin’ for you to apologize for. I’ve had worse get on me since I started workin’ here, and usually it ain’t from a cute girl.”

You tensed in your seat, tearing your gaze from his to look down at your feet, your cheeks feeling warm.

“Hey, don’t go overheatin’ yourself again,” he scolded, standing up from the bed. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine, but I think it’s best if I take ya home. Don’t need your friend yellin’ at me again if you pass out on the way back.”

As much as you wanted to deny his assertion of you being not interested, you couldn’t muster up the courage, so you instead quietly accepted his offer of help. You would have to ask Taliyah what he had meant when you got back.

It was surprisingly cold on the beach at night, the icy breeze sending shivers along your skin. You stared out at the dark ocean waves, entranced by the water crashing against the sand, when your focus was broken by some soft fabric being laid over your shoulders.

You turned to look over your shoulder to see Sett just behind you on the steps of the lifeguard office, the jacket that was usually around his waist now laying on your shoulders.

He caught your curious look and raised an eyebrow. “You nearly cooked yourself to death today, I ain’t about to let you freeze yourself to death now.”

“Thanks,” you replied quietly, reaching a hand up to keep the jacket around your shoulders.

Your feet met the soft sand as you followed Sett towards the parking lot. The beach was totally empty, an odd contrast to how things were in the daytime. It felt weird to actually see the shape of the landscape unobscured by giant beach umbrellas and a sea of bodies. You only looked away from the empty scene when you realized that you had left the sand, and Sett was staring expectantly at you.

“…what?” you asked, getting the feeling that he had said something that you had missed.

“Which way?” he repeated with a quick glance at the street ahead of you.

“Oh right,” you replied. “My friend lives on Sandstone Way.”

Sett’s ears perked up. “By that tacky souvenir shop?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Right by there.”

You giggled at Sett’s assessment; you had noticed the eye-hurtingly brightly painted store when Taliyah had walked you to her house from the train station. She had rolled her eyes at the store as you surveyed the display of t-shirts with embarrassing designs on them, stating that sometimes they got some good rocks in, but it wasn’t worth the amount of tourists always asking for directions when she was walking around the neighborhood.

Looking over at Sett out of the corner of your eye, you were struggling to think of anything to say. He was dressed in just his sandals and shorts, his sunglasses forgone and giving you a clear look at his golden eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.

“So this your first summer here?” Sett asked, breaking the brief silence as you walked side by side. “I know I’d remember you if I’d seen ya before.”

“I was here for a summer when I was a kid,” you answered. “But everything looks so different now. Maybe I just saw this place differently when I was a kid.”

“Nah,” he dismissed. “It never used to be this busy here. Tourists bring money to this place, but it means it’s always loud around here.”

The conversation was slowly helping you feel more comfortable with the intimidatingly handsome lifeguard. You felt dumb for putting so much energy into avoiding him.

“So have you always lived here?” you asked.

“Born and raised,” he answered with a grin that you couldn’t help but feel looked a little sad. “Ma used to work at the boating shop… and the laundromat… and the candy store.”

“All at the same time?” you asked incredulously.

Sett shrugged. “Didn’t have much of a choice. Pa ran off on us when I was a kid, and it wasn’t like anyone would hire a fatherless runt to work for them.”

“Sounds like it was hard,” you replied. “Did you ever find out where he went?”

“For his sake, I’d better not,” Sett sneered. “I heard ma cry missin’ that scumbag more times than I can count. There ain’t a family here for that bastard to come back to.”

“How is your mom doing?” you asked as you turned onto Sandstone Way, passing by the tacky tourist shop, the flashy paint on the walls too bright even at night.

“She’s doin’ good,” he answered, finally looking happy with a satisfied smile. “Got her to quit her jobs when I started workin’ enough to pay the bills.”

“You’re a good son,” you complimented him. “She’s lucky to have you.”

You smiled at him, coming to a stop before Taliyah’s house. “Well, this is me. Thanks for walking me back.”

“Take care of yourself,” he said. “I don’t wanna see you passin’ out again.”

“I’ll try not to,” you replied. “No more poro costumes for me.”

“On that topic,” he purred, leaning closer to you. “You never gave me an answer.”

“An answer?” you squeaked, flustered by his sudden closeness.

“I’ve been tryin’ to get your number for days now,” he replied, and you did your best to supress a shiver from running up your spine. Was this real life?

You wet your lips with your tongue nervously, unable to miss how Sett’s sharp eyes watched the movement.

“I, um, I don’t have my phone on me,” you said, immediately realizing how dumb you sounded. You didn’t need your phone on you to tell him your number! You hastily made to amend your statement. “…but if you come by the stand tomorrow, I’ll give it to you!”

“Oh?” Sett’s grin was wide, gold eyes flashing dangerously. “I s’pose I could find some time to stop by. See you then, sweetheart.”

Sett turned to walk away, but you stopped him with a call of his name. “Wait, your jacket–”

“Keep it for the night,” Sett replied. “I’ll get it from you tomorrow.”

You reluctantly agreed, stunned silent by his bold flirting, his jacket sitting warm on your shoulders as you watched him walk away. You stared at his broad back until he was out of sight, only then turning to head inside, knowing Taliyah would be waiting.

 The next morning she was still on you as you spent some extra time getting ready.

“I still can’t believe he gave you his jacket,” she teased with a grin. “I mean, I figured he was probably into you, but–”

“You what?” you replied as you paused styling your hair.

“I kept telling you to talk to him,” she replied. “No guy like that is going to wait outside your work for days in a row just to yell at you for spilling ice on him. But I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

“I just feel so stupid giving myself heat stroke just go avoid him,” you lamented.

“Yeah,” Taliyah frowned. “If I had realized it was that hot out, I never would’ve let you go out in that thing.”

“It’s my own fault for being so dumb,” you insisted.

“But hey, it all worked out, didn’t it?” Taliyah grinned as she slipped on her water shoes. “You’ve got a hot lifeguard coming to visit you at work today.”

“Don’t remind me. I’m still super nervous,” you said, adjusting your beach dress over your most flattering swimsuit.

“You’ll be fine,” Taliyah replied. “He’s clearly super into you. You should’ve seen him when you passed out yesterday.”

“What?” You had been so tired last night that you had only told her the basics before crashing for the night, completely forgetting to ask her what had happened yesterday.

“Someone got him when you collapsed,” she told you. “You should’ve seen his face when he pulled off the poro head and saw it was you inside the costume! I tried to come with, but he told me he’d handle it. I maaay have threatened his life if anything happened to you, but just a little.”

You laughed. So that’s what Sett had been referring to.

Taliyah came up from behind you as you stared at your appearance in the mirror, resting her chin on your shoulder and meeting your eyes in the mirror. “Relax, you look great. Fuzzy ear boy isn’t gonna know what hit him!”

“Fuzzy ear–” you sputtered, laughing at Taliyah’s choice of words. “I guess his ears do look pretty fuzzy.”

“Well if he lets you pet them, tell me how soft they are!” she teased, pulling back from you to grab her bag. “Now let’s go. You’ve got a boy to meet!”

You somehow felt even more nervous today than you had the few days you had spent avoiding Sett. You were still having a hard time wrapping your head around the fact that a guy that looked like he had walked straight out of a fireman’s calendar was coming to your little beachfront ice cream stand for the sole purpose of getting your phone number. And his jacket, which was folded neatly on the countertop beside you.

You weren’t exactly sure when he was going to come. Usually, he would be there waiting outside in the morning before you opened, but all you had opened up to today was a sparsely-populated beachfront, no handsome lifeguards to be seen. By two in the afternoon, your anxiety had begun to get the better of you.

“Stop pacing,” Taliyah scolded you. “He’ll be here.”

“But what if he decided not to?” you said, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself down. “What if this was just a joke?”

“Then I’ll go kick his butt,” she responded plainly. “He’ll come. Relax.”

You were about to reply, when a ding of the service bell at the order window had you spinning around, ready to take an order, only for the words to die on your lips when you laid eyes on the well-muscled lifeguard with the fuzzy black ears just outside the order window, sending a grin your way.

“Here to pick up my order,” he said, leaning an arm against the window.

“Your… order?” you replied, too entranced by his appearance to properly make use of your brain.

“A pretty girl promised me her number if I came by,” he replied, looking down at you through his sunglasses.

“I… right… I…” You turned back quickly to see Taliyah staring expectantly at you, mouthing the word number at you. Right.

With slightly shaky hands, you reached for the small notepad at the front counter, taking that and a pen in hand and trying not to focus on the fact that Sett was watching you as you began to write.

Double-checking that the number was right, you handed the paper to him, your fingers touching as he took it from you. Remembering about your other promise, you reached over to grab the lifeguard jacket from the counter beside you. You went to hand him his jacket, surprised when he didn’t take it from you.

“What time do you get off?” he asked, and you answered a quiet six. “Give it back to me then.”

With a short wave and a grin, Sett made a show of stowing the phone number in his pocket before sauntering off and leaving you standing there slack-jawed.

“See? Was that so hard?” Taliyah called from her seat at the ice machine. “Now you just have to keep it together for your date.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you said, leaning back against the counter.

“You did last night, didn’t you?” she countered. “He’s just a guy. A really hot guy, but still. Don’t freak yourself out. You deserve a nice guy. It’s just a bonus that he has more abs than spiders have legs!”

You let out an amused huff. Taliyah was right, as she always was. You needed to get over yourself and let yourself have a good time tonight.”

But for now, you had customers to deal with. You and Taliyah let out a shared groan as you saw the nightmare mom and her army of brats heading towards you. You both returned to your posts, hoping their overly-complicated orders would be right on the first try this time.

 Taliyah let out a yawn, stretching her arms high above her head before beginning the process of cleaning up for the day. After the last customer left, you hastily closed the order window, not wanting to give anyone the chance to come and beg about how it was only five minutes past closing and they’ve been wanting a banana split all day. You had learned your lesson from that mistake on day two.

Once the order windows were closed and locked, you joined Taliyah at the side counter, helping to return all the different containers of toppings to their rightful places. You found your hands moving slower, your nerves slowing you down in order to prolong the inevitable.

Taliyah eventually got tired of your pitiful attempt at stalling for time and gently removed the container of blue sprinkles from your grasp. “Just go, I’ll finish up here.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, and Taliyah sent you an unimpressed look. “Okay, fine, I’m going, I’m going.”

“I hope you know I expect all the details later!” she grinned as you made your way to the door, hesitating with your hand on the door handle for only a moment before opening the door.

It was mercifully less warm outside today than it had been yesterday, not to mention that you were also minus a heavy mascot costume. Yesterday hadn’t ended too badly for you, but you would still prefer to not end today in a hospital if you exacerbated your current heat-sensitive state.

You weren’t sure if you preferred if Sett was already there, or if you got there first to wait for him; neither option seemed to abate your nerves. But of course, the lifeguard was prompt as always, leaning against one of the beams that held up the awning above the order window.

You didn’t think you had been making much noise walking along the sand, but he seemed to hear you, turning to face you with a grin as you approached.

“Ready?” he asked as you came to a stop before him, tucking some of your hair behind your ear in an effort to keep your cool.

“Yeah,” you answered, impressed that your voice hadn’t come out squeaky with how nervous you were.

“Good,” he replied, before his grin turned teasing. “Was half expectin’ ya to come on our date in that rat costume.”

“Poro!” you corrected again, trying not to get flustered by his mention of this being a date. You weren’t sure what else it would be, but you couldn’t help the butterflies that fluttered in your stomach when he had acknowledged the obvious.

He surprised you by taking your hand, pulling you along with him as you tried desperately not to stumble and fall into the sand.

The beach crowd was beginning to thin out, people heading home or to one of the many beachfront restaurants nearby. Watching as a kid packed up his sand toys, you wondered if one of those restaurants was where you were headed as well. Sett hadn’t told you anything about what the plan was, and you found yourself curious when he led you to the bright white lifeguard office.

At first, you had thought that maybe he had forgotten something, at least until you followed him into the small building to see what looked to be the table that had previously held all the first aid kits, now decked out in a soft-looking purple picnic blanket. On top of the makeshift picnic table was a spread of various tasty-looking finger foods, the scene completed by two chairs pulled up to the table, cushions with a starfish pattern placed on the seats.

You were perhaps too dumbfounded by the sight, as you snapped out of it to Sett calling your name, looking over at him to see him looking surprisingly tense. You should probably say something, you realized.

“It looks great,” you said, meaning every word as you looked over the table. “Are those cabbage rolls?”

“Ma helped me make ‘em,” Sett explained, looking bashful for the first time since you had met him as he raised an arm to scratch at the back of his neck. “Helped me with all of this, actually. Never done anythin’ like this before.”

“You mean a picnic?” you asked curiously.

Sett chuckled. “Picnics. Dates. Not a lotta women ‘round here who wanted anythin’ to do with a fatherless half-breed.”

You had a hard time believing that; you had noticed several mothers checking him out as they packed their family’s stuff to leave the beach. But the hint of something sad in his eyes made you reconsider. You had no memory of seeing someone like him that summer you had spent here, but it wasn’t like that was a surprise to you. You and Taliyah had been in your own little world at that time, only ever spending time with each other.

“Well I’m excited to try your cooking,” you said, figuring a change of subject was for the best.

Sett grinned as he sat down. “Should be decent. Haven’t poisoned anyone since high school.”

Your eyes widened, hand freezing on its path to grab a cabbage roll, startled eyes darting to his.

Sett let out a bark of laughter at your alarmed face. “Relax. Wouldn’t poison ya. Maybe those kids that keep swimmin’ into the boating zone, but not you.”

“Thanks… I think?” you replied, biting your lip as you stared down at the cabbage rolls, weighing your options.

“Wasn’t real poison anyways,” he scoffed, taking some rolls from himself. “Not my fault sugar and salt look the same.”

You laughed, grabbing some food for yourself at last. “I suppose they kinda do.”

“Ma didn’t wanna hurt my feelings, but I knew when I tried some myself,” he explained.

“It was nice of her to try,” you offered.

“Too nice,” he said. “Ma is always too nice. Never said anythin’ bad about my old man, even after what he did. Had to work three jobs for years because of that bastard, but not a word.”

“Well I’m sure she’s glad she has you,” you commented. “Even if you give her food poisoning sometimes.”

“Once,” he corrected, taking a bite. “Learned my lesson the first time.”

You followed his lead, finding the food to be entirely poison-free, and actually the best home-cooked meal you had eaten in a long time. The conversation moved to swapping work stories, and you were unsurprised to find out that the mother and her the demon children had been a thorn in Sett’s side as well.

“They really buried sleeping sunbathers in sand?”

“Five times in a day one time,” Sett grouchily confirmed. “Last time Braum went to handle it. Said I would bury those little assholes under the sand if I had to go yell at them one more time.”

You sympathized with his pain. You felt lucky that you had only experienced the tip of the annoyingness iceberg with that group of little terrors.

“Braum?” you inquired as you both left the lifeguard office, the beach now fully dark.

“Fellow lifeguard,” he answered, nonchalantly taking your hand in his as you made your way off the beach. “Bald, giant moustache, even bigger than me. Better at the whole gentle-but-firm thing than I am.”

“Oh, I think I’ve seen him before. He comes by for poro pops sometimes,” you said, mind drawing a picture of the surprisingly friendly man in the small purple swim bottoms with a weakness for poro-shaped ice pops. “So are you the head lifeguard then?”

Sett considered your question. “Guess I am the boss of ‘em. All of the other lifeguards are always comin’ at me with problems to solve. The extra pay doesn’t hurt either if I wanna keep momma from feelin’ like she has to work.”

“Say thank you to her from me for the dinner. It was really good,” you said as you passed by the familiar tacky souvenir shop.

“She’ll be happy to hear it,” he replied with a soft smile that made your heart thump in your chest. “I know she wishes she had more to cook for than just me.”

You both came to a stop before Taliyah’s house, and you sneakily glanced over just to make sure Taliyah wasn’t peeking out from a window, which she wasn’t. You turned your focus back to Sett, only to find him closer than he had just been. How was he so good at sneaking up on you?

A large hand came up to cup your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, and your face was tilted up towards Sett’s. You were glad it was dark out, because otherwise you knew your reddening cheeks would be obvious.

“Still afraid of me?” he asked, voice low, lips so close to yours that you could make out a small scar that crossed over his bottom lip.

“No,” you answered, making no move to pull away as you stared up into his eyes. “Not unless I was about to taste your high school cooking.”

“Smart,” he replied with a smirk. “But I’m talkin’ about right now, because if you don’t turn and run into that house, I’m gonna kiss you.”

Your bag almost tumbled from your grasp, but you held fast as you stared at Sett, whose own had already become half-lidded. You had no words to describe how much you didn’t want to run right now, so you didn’t use any, instead angling your face further upwards, trying to make your willingness abundantly clear.

With a grin, he leaned down and kissed you.

Pulling back slightly, he dove back in, his other hand coming to your waist to pull you against him. You happily leant into him, your hands on his firm chest.

When he pulled back again, you opened your eyes at last, feeling almost as dizzy as right before you had passed out from heat stroke.

Sett looked content, and you were only hoping you looked half as composed as he did right now. He leaned back in to give you one more peck before pulling back from you entirely, the cold from the air outside immediately apparent as soon as you were minus his warm hands against your skin.

“Think I’ll stop by tomorrow,” he said. “Been cravin’ a cherry snowball for some reason lately.”

 Sett was a man of his word, you learned, though you were less happy to see him the next day when he asked if he could order a cherry snowball served like last time, and then laughed as you had proceeded to sputter like a broken machine.

His visits became daily, sometimes bringing Braum with him, who continued to surprise you with the sheer amount of poro pops he was able to consume in one sitting. Quite a few nights a week, you had found yourself all around Port Navori with the half-Vastayan lifeguard. You were surprised at how supportive Taliyah was being, considering you had originally come here to spend time with her.

“Gives me more time to surf,” she answered with a shrug when you had asked her. “And maybe that boyfriend of yours can convince you to stay here after the summer is over.”

“Boyfriend?” you yelped, and Taliyah raised an eyebrow.

“You aren’t? I thought he would have made it official by now. It’s been over two weeks… have you guys even done it?”

“Taliyah!” you scolded her, switching back to professional mode as a group of people approached the stand.

As you helped prepare their orders, you couldn’t help but think about what she had said. You and Sett had kissed quite a lot actually, but he had yet to do more than that. But it was far too embarrassing a subject for you to have the confidence to broach, so you had resolved yourself to just be content with things as they were.

It was just your luck that right then was when Sett had decided to make his daily visit to the stand, approaching the counter as the other group left.

Taliyah apparently wasn’t done pestering you for the day as she sped to meet him at the counter before you could get there yourself.

“Hey!” she greeted Sett with a sly smile as you stood frozen behind her, nervous about her motivations. “You’re on your break, right?”

Sett raised an eyebrow. “What about it?”

“Well,” she said, in the voice you knew meant that she wanted something. “There’s a surfing contest I entered, and it’s almost my turn and it won’t even take that long and–”

“Tali!” you interrupted, rushing over to the counter.

“All I need is an hour,” Taliyah insisted, before pulling you beside her at the counter. “And she needs some help while I’m gone since lunchtime is when most of the people come by.”

“I’m fine, I–”

“I’m in,” Sett cut in, eyeing you with almost palpable smugness.

“Awesome!” Taliyah replied, immediately shucking her apron and hat onto the floor in her haste to get out the door. “Have fun, see you after I win!”

“Taliyah!”

Your call of her name fell on deaf ears as she already had her board and was out the door, leaving you standing at the counter with Sett still leaning against the counter.

Sett reached up to pull his sunglasses off, tucking them into his packet, his golden eyes fully uncovered and sparkling with mischief, the sight alone making you feel weary.

“Well? You gonna invite me in?” he asked. “Not sure I’d fit through the window.”

You scrambled to meet him at the back door, not wanting him to try and get into the shop through the order window that was less wide than he was. It was a strange feeling to open the back door of the shop to a guy that was almost too tall for the doorway, and another thing entirely to try and corral him into behaving as you tried to keep the ice cream stand functioning while Taliyah was gone.

“Aren’t lifeguards supposed to set a good example for others?” you huffed, wiping ice from your apron. At least he hadn’t made things truly equal and put cherry syrup on the ball of shaved ice he had pressed against your neck.

“Not when I’m off the clock,” he answered. “Besides, it’s my once in a lifetime chance to see what workin’ one of these is like.”

It would definitely be only one time if you had anything to say about it. If the almost-hour with him here had taught you anything, it was that Sett was not cut out to work in an ice cream shop.

The scoops of ice cream he doled out were easily twice the size of the ones Taliyah did, which made for happy customers, but a less happy bottom line if he was here for more than an hour. He was also lacking Taliyah’s patience, and you were forced to sideline him when an especially picky middle-aged woman came by who insisted you remake her smoothie four times until it had an acceptable pH level. The woman’s complaints had miraculously stopped the moment Sett had approached the window himself, becoming so invested in flirting with the handsome lifeguard that she had snatched her next smoothie attempt from you without complaint, not even glancing your way as she batted her eyes at him, only leaving when he excused himself with an excuse of needing to make more orders.

You approached Sett to check on him and found yourself pulled down into his lap as he leaned back in the chair.

Huffing, he pulled you against him, nuzzling against your neck. “Don’t know how you deal with that. Couldn’t pay me to make her damn smoothie one more time.”

“You get used to it,” you replied. “Don’t you deal with worse as a lifeguard?”

“Yeah,” he grunted. “But nothin’ sayin’ I gotta be nice when I deal with ‘em.”

“That’s true,” you laughed.

“If anyone complains, they can go somewhere else. Ain’t another beach within a hundred miles as well-run as this one,” he bragged, kissing at your neck.

As much as you were enjoying his sudden affection, you knew time was running low until Taliyah would return. You made to pull back to tell Sett that, but were instead pulled into a kiss that took you a few breathless moments to find the strength to escape.

“This Friday,” he murmured, face inches from yours. “There’s a party at the pool. You should come with me.”

You had heard about the exclusive pool parties on this beach from Taliyah, but hadn’t expected to ever get an invite. The pool, which was at the far end of the beach from the ice cream stand, was as exclusive as it got. Gated with walls so high that you couldn’t see in, it was the membership-only place to be for all of the elite in the beach town of Port Navori.

“Is that… okay?” you asked hesitantly.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he countered, and you didn’t really have an answer. “It’ll be fine. Come. Have some people I wanna introduce ya to.”

The door burst open at the same time as you nodded your agreement, revealing Taliyah clutching both her dripping board as well as a shiny blue ribbon.

“You won?” you asked, trying to disentangle yourself from Sett, who reluctantly let you up.

“Easily!” Taliyah gloated. “Nobody else stood a chance. So how were things here?”

“The money ain’t worth the drama of this place,” Sett griped.

Taliyah laughed. “Smoothie lady come back with a vengeance?”

“I’ll take kids buryin’ sunbathers up to their ears over this any day,” he replied with a grimace, standing up and stretching.

At his mention of ears, Taliyah had brought both hands up to her own head about where Sett’s were on his head, and you quickly waved at her to cut it out before he saw. Thankfully she did, but you could tell that you were going to get asked if you had pet his ears yet as soon as his fuzzy ears were out of earshot.

“I’ll text ya the time when I know it,” Sett said, giving you a quick kiss on the head and a two-fingered salute to Taliyah before heading out the back door.

“So?” Taliyah asked, pulling the chair up to the ice cream station after she had stashed her prize ribbon in her bag. “Are they as soft as they look?”

“I didn’t pet them,” you answered.

“It’s been over two weeks!” she complained. “Has he at least asked you to be his girlfriend yet?”

You shook your head. “He did invite me to a pool party with him on Friday at that fancy pool.”

“Really?” Taliyah responded, eyes wide. “You have to tell me what it’s like! I mean, I’ve seen satellite photos, but it’s not the same…”

“I’ll probably be too nervous to remember any of it,” you grumbled.

“This is your chance!” Taliyah encouraged. “By Friday it’ll be three weeks. You need to ask him if he sees you as his girlfriend or not.”

You reeled back, waves of anticipatory anxiety rolling over you. “I don’t want to scare him off. What if this is just casual to him and I’m too dumb to see it?”

“Then you’ll know,” she replied. “I know you. It’ll eat you up if you put this much energy into a guy without knowing how he feels about you. So ask. If he says no, then at least you’ll have an entire store’s worth of ice cream to drown yourself in after!”

Taliyah was right. She was always right. You knew that you couldn’t keep whatever this was up without knowing where you stood with him. The more time you spent with Sett, the more you wanted, and if he intended to keep things casual, you would rather know sooner so you could make an informed decision.

So that would be the plan then. Go to the party, have a good time (and get some photos of the pool for Taliyah) and then ask Sett about the state of your relationship. Sounded easy in theory. You could only hope you could muster up the courage to go through with the plan when the time came.

 After hearing that the party was to start at four, Taliyah had gone all out, closing the stand at two so she could help you get ready to impress the snobs. You hadn’t put up too much of a fight, happy to have her help and her company, as your nerves only climbed higher the closer it got to four o’clock.

“You’ll be fine,” Taliyah said as she styled your hair. “You’ll only feel worse if you don’t get an answer from him. And with how good you’ll look at the party, he won’t be able to say no!”

“Thanks, Tali,” you replied gratefully. “I promise I’ll get you a bunch of photos of the pool. And whatever else you want.”

“What I want is for you to stay here for good,” she said. “So really I’m just doing myself a favor by helping you. This place has been a hundred times more bearable since you’ve been here, and I want it to stay that way.”

“Still,” you persisted. “I feel bad that you’re going to so much trouble. If you want anything, just let me know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Taliyah dismissed with a wave of her hand. “You should get going, don’t wanna be late to the fancy pool party.”

She practically shoved you out the door, and then you were alone, walking down the mostly-empty sidewalk. As you walked along the street, you couldn’t help but dwell on the possibilities. What would happen at the party? What would Sett say?

If he told you that he wasn’t looking for anything serious, what would you do? It was hard to have an answer for until you were in the moment, since a lot of it would depend on what Sett’s answer would be.

You walked through the parking lot, and then onto the beach, passing by kids building sandcastles and games of beach volleyball as you walked towards the end of the beach where the pool was. As you made your way to the fancier end of the beach, you began to notice the differences that marked the split between here and the side of the beach that you were usually on.

The shops on this side of the beach were much fancier, the sand littered with designer beach chairs and umbrellas. It was crazy just how different two ends of one beach could be.

The pool was noticeable from a great distance, or at least the wall white walls that surrounded it were. At least you weren’t going to get lost and miss the party entirely.

You approached the pristine white stairs that led from the beach up to the pool entrance, equal parts excited and apprehensive. The entrance was an open doorway, covered by a deep blue curtain and guarded by a muscled bouncer in white. The sight alone was intimidating; why hadn’t you just asked Sett to meet you beforehand?

You plastered a reluctant smile on your face before approaching the man. “Hi, I–”

“Name,” he interrupted, not looking up from his clipboard, sunglasses too dark for you to see his eyes.

Well it wasn’t like you hadn’t expected some level of standoffishness from the elite side of the beach. Keeping your smile up, you told him your name, waiting the prerequisite few moments for him to leaf through the list.

He seemed to have found what he was looking for, as his hand with the clipboard went to his side and he moved over to the curtain, pulling it to one side to allow you to enter. He had said nothing further, but seemed to be staring in your direction, so you took that as your cue and walked towards the now-open entryway and into the pool.

The entryway led into a hallway with pristine white walls, soft lighting hanging overhead. You could begin to hear chatter as you got closer to the end of the hallway, exiting into an explosion of sight and sound.

The pool was huge, and there seemed to be an intricate gold pattern on the tiles at the bottom. The pool was surrounded by lounge chairs and umbrellas, tropical foliage bordering the inner walls around the pool.

There were people all over, in and out of the pool. There was also a bar in the center which seemed to be very popular, as many people were carrying around intricate-looking cocktails.

More than the scenery or the people, your eyes were scanning the area for Sett. You checked your phone again to make sure, finding that it was the time he had told you to be here for. Maybe he was just running late or…

Your rising concern was broken up by the tap of designer wedges on the granite heading your way. You looked up from your phone to see two girls heading towards you, one of which you realized you had seen before.

The stuck-up redhead that had been the reason you had been out on the beach to spill the snowball on Sett in the first place was striding towards you, not a hair out of place underneath her likely-expensive sun hat. At her side was a lilac-haired woman in a swimsuit with a plunging neckline that was color blocked with various shades of purple. Together they made quite a striking pair, but your previous encounter with the redhead had you wishing that Sett would get here soon to save you from the impending conversation.

“Look, Sarah,” the purple-haired one sneered as they came to a stop before you. “So eager to pretend she’s one of us that she rushed right over.”

You took a step back, but that only seemed to embolden them.

Sarah lowered her sunglasses, staring at you like you were in her way. “Sad when they don’t know their place, Syndra.”

“Sett invited me here,” you replied defensively.

The women exchanged a pointed look before Sarah raised an eyebrow at you, a hand on her hip. “You ever think about why that was?”

“What?” you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

“She doesn’t get it,” Syndra said with a cruel undertone in her voice that unnerved you.

“Look around,” Sarah said sharply. “Really look. Do half the people here look like they belong?”

You looked around, not sure what you were supposed to be seeing. A man with a hook-nose sat at the pool bar, flanked by women in skimpy bikinis. A humanoid form that seemed to be made of water conversed poolside with a large purple man in a ratty straw hat who was holding a ukulele. What were you supposed to be noticing?

“Sett is too nice to break it to you, so the job falls to me,” Sarah said with a smirk. “This is our annual loser fest. Charity case race. Bring-a-freak-to-work-day.”

“Pig party,” Syndra supplied.

“Yeah, pig party,” Sarah repeated, noticing your confused look. “Don’t know what that is? Poor thing.”

“I don’t–”

“It’s pretty simple,” Sarah interrupted. “We take half the summer to find the biggest freak we can, and then we bring them all together and crown a winner, and by the looks of you, Sett is really going for the top prize.”

You gasped, eyes wide, suddenly feeling like you were going to be sick.

“Aw, you really thought he liked you, huh?” Syndra mocked with fake sweetness.

“He didn’t… he never…” you stammered, clutching your bag to your chest.

“Well duh,” Sarah replied haughtily. “He wanted to win. Do you tell a pig when it’s about to become bacon?”

“What is meaning of this?” Braum accused, storming up to your group. “I have not heard of such a thing!”

“Need-to-know, Braum,” Syndra dismissed.

“And you didn’t need to know,” Sarah added.

You felt numb. This whole time… is that why Sett wouldn’t ask you to be his girlfriend? Why he never did more than kiss you? All this time, he had just seen you as a prize pig for an ugly date contest? It all made sense now, why he had been so desperate to get your number. He had never liked you… it had all been one sick joke. You should’ve known; nobody as attractive as Sett would ever see you as anything but a freak. And was too cowardly to come and tell you the truth to your face.

“Look, she’s crying,” Syndra taunted. “Don’t cry! Soon you’ll be queen pig!”

You couldn’t do this. You couldn’t stay here with all these people who saw you as less than human as your heart was breaking into pieces. You were so, so stupid, now wanting nothing more than to cry in peace. So you did, turning and running as fast as your legs would take you out of this awful place.

“Bye, piggy! We’ll ship you the ribbon!”

You heard Braum shout your name, as well as the cruel laughter of the women, but you didn’t stop running. Not when you got to the beach, nor the parking lot or the tacky souvenir shop, the sayings on the gaudy shirts too blurry to read through your tears. Your feet didn’t stop until you were at the doorstep to Taliyah’s home, out of breath, tears running down your cheeks.

The door opened, Taliyah’s face appearing in the doorway. “Hey, did you forget– wait, what happened?”

 “Settrigh, stay still!”

Sett frowned, but did as his momma requested, allowing her to tie the ends of his hair after she had finished arranging it. He loved his ma dearly, but he really didn’t have time for her to redo his hair ten times right now.

It was getting way too close to the start time he had given you, and with how nervous of a person you were, he had intended to be on time, but that was before his mother had discovered the reason why he was cutting their visit short today.

Ma was aware that he had been seeing someone, had been ever since Sett had needed help making food for their first date.

“You do intend to let me meet her, Settrigh?” she asked, stepping back once she had fixed his hair to her satisfaction.

“Yes, ma,” he answered, standing up from the chair.

He wasn’t exactly surprised by his momma’s eagerness, considering this was the first girl he had ever dated, let alone considered introducing to her. This world was shallow; he had learned that early in life, which may be why he found himself so drawn to a girl who had put her all into having nothing to do with him. You broke up the monotony in this busy beach town and gave him something to look forward to other than seeing his ma for the first time in a long time.

Sett knew he was working on a time limit. You had mentioned that you had planned on only visiting Port Navori for the summer, and the summer was half over already, which meant his chances to convince you to stay were also halved, which is where tonight came in.

He had been taking things slow, not wanting to come on too strong and scare you off like he had watched happen to many a beachfront pick-up artist. He had been unwilling to rush things and lose you, but the slip of the calendar into August had forced his hand.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t a bit apprehensive as to how today would end. How would you take him asking you to be girlfriend? He could only hope that he hadn’t misread you entirely.

He didn’t go to the pool parties often, but it seemed like a good way for him to introduce you to his friends, as they didn’t often all gather outside of those parties. He knew you would likely feel out of place, but Braum would be there, and he intended to stick by your side the entire time. And then after the party, if things went well, then maybe he would end the night with you as his girlfriend, but the party would be the first step.

As he left his ma’s house, he found his mind turning to the party. If you were wearing that red swimsuit you had worn last week, then it was going to be a difficult night for his self-control. His desire to take things slow had really taken a hit then, his only saving grace being ma’s lecture on being a gentleman pounding in his head as he tried not to look at how your chest was half-busting out of your top as you leaned over to pick a thread off of his glove. You were really too hot for your own good, which made him all the more eager to see you.

He knew he was running late, the party having started at least ten minutes earlier. It wasn’t his style to be late, but he was also pretty helpless to defy his ma. He only hoped that you hadn’t given up on him and left.

He took the shortest route possible, which included a short trek through some bushes that left him more leafy than he would’ve liked, but it was all forgotten when he spotted the stairs that led up to the pool entrance.

He was able to bypass the doorman who was only half as big as he was and seemed to be wary of interacting with him, stepping out of the way as Sett approached. He pushed past the curtain, hurried steps heading down the hallway. You hadn’t been waiting outside, so clearly you had been able to get in. He tried to fight back the excited grin that wanted to take over his face, but it was a losing battle as he entered the pool area, eyes immediately scanning the area for you.

“Your cruelty is unimaginable!” Braum’s booming voice carried easily through the air. “That girl has done nothing to be deserving of such treatment!”

What had Braum so worked up? Generally he was an easy guy to get along with, easily Sett’s most tolerable co-lifeguard. Not much phased him, which was a little concerning. But Sett had other priorities, the most important being locating you.

You weren’t in the pool, and didn’t seem to be sitting in any of the chairs. Maybe you had gone to the bathroom and would be right back–

“Well how else was she supposed to know Sett is too good for her? She clearly wasn’t going to see reality without a little help.”

Sett’s ears perked up, his attention snagged by the mention of his name, but especially by the latter half of the sentence. He turned around to see Sarah Fortune with Syndra at her side, who had her arms crossed and looked bored. In front of them was Braum, looking more irate than Sett had ever seen him.

“What’s this about?” Sett asked in a warning tone as he approached, the fur of his ears standing on end, leaving him feeling like he wasn’t going to like where this was headed.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” Sarah dismissed, flipping her hair behind her shoulder with a flick of her head. “We just showed a daydreaming little clout chaser the way out.”

Sett’s eyebrow rose. “A what?”

“Your ice cream girl,” Braum cut in. “These two have told her that this is a party for pigs. They have told her that you intend to bring her here to win ugly contest, and then she had run off.”

“What?” Sett growled dangerously, but the two women remained nonplussed.

“We did you a favor,” Syndra stressed. “If we get a reputation of letting just anyone in, then we’ll lose all status as members of the ruling class of the food chain. So we decided to throw this little pig party to make you come back to your senses.”

“You’re one of us, Sett,” Sarah added. “This pool doesn’t have room for little nobodies who don’t know their place.”

“Rather be a nobody than whatever the hell this is,” Sett snarled angrily, the full knowledge of the truth turning his bad feeling to a mix of simmering fury at the two women, and worry for you. He hated himself for being late and allowing this to happen to you. “Save your concern and don’t talk to me again.”

“But we were–” Syndra started, but Sett wasn’t in the mood.

“If you even look at her again, you’ll have me to deal with. And unlike that girl you just bullied outta here, I ain’t so nice.”

With that, Sett turned on his heel and stormed towards the exit to go do his best to fix this mess.

Braum quickly followed behind him. “My friend, I am sorry I could not stop them in time.”

“Ain’t your fault,” Sett replied. “Wish I’d have known. Gotta go see if she’ll even talk to me at this point.”

“I wish you luck,” Braum said as exited the hallway and emerged out into the sunny late afternoon.

Sett parted from Braum, taking the stairs two at a time as he surveyed the area, trying to see if he could catch sight of you. He quickly crossed the sand, making a beeline for the ice cream stand, even if it seemed like a longshot. He passed by a group of kids throwing sand on an older man sleeping on a towel, but ignored it and kept going. If anything was on fire, Braum could put it out. Sett’s sole focus right now was finding you and hoping you’d let him explain himself.

His chest felt heavy with anger and regret. How could he have let this happen? He hadn’t realized how cruel those women could be, and it had led to them making you believe he thought you were some freak he was using for convenience, which could not be farther from the truth.

Seeing those two talk about you like you were a pariah had brought him right back to when he was younger, to what he had endured at the hands of people just like Syndra and Sarah. People who had ostracized him, did their best to make him feel like he didn’t have a place here. Sett-the-beast-boy-bastard; the words had haunted him for a long time.

He had grown tough in response to the years of bullying, but you hadn’t. This was your first exposure to how awful this place could be. He and ma had dealt with it for years after pa ran off; he had nearly gotten expelled from school after a particularly bad fight with a kid that had made one too many nasty comments about his ma to his face.

Sett stopped, letting out a frustrated sigh as he saw the large closed sign on the front windows of the ice cream shop. So that was a bust. Without giving the store a second look, he continued on towards the rocks and then up to the parking lot.

There was only one other place to try. Chest tight, Sett followed the same path he had the night of your first date, the same path he took every time he walked you home. The walk there was one long blur, his feet unable to stop moving until the familiar house was in sight. Without a moment’s hesitation, Sett approached the front door, rapping his knuckles against the wood. When no answer came, he tried again, and after a few moments, the door opened to reveal Taliyah, who glared once she caught sight of him.

“What do you want?” she asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Is she here? I need to talk to her,” Sett said, urgency bleeding into his voice.

Taliyah sighed, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. “You’re lucky I’m even talking to you after this. You don’t deserve to talk to her if that’s how you let your friends treat her.”

“They ain’t my friends,” Sett argued. “If I’d have known they were gonna pull that shit–”

A sly smile lifted the corner of Taliyah’s lips. “Good answer. If you had said anything else, then I’d be slamming the door in your face right about now.”

“Then can I–”

“Talk to her?” Taliyah interrupted. “Nope. Not a good idea.”

Sett’s face must have taken on a darker quality, because Taliyah retreated back a step, raising her hands in the air in mock surrender. “Relax, tough guy. I didn’t mean it like that. But she’s a little too upset to talk to you right now.”

The information only made Sett feel worse. He wanted so badly to talk to you, to do what he had wanted to do before this mess had happened and make you his girlfriend. You had never felt farther away than you did right now.

“Give me some time to calm her down. I can get her to be at the pier at seven, then the rest is up to you,” she said, levelling him with a stern look. “I know this wasn’t your fault. That’s the only reason I’m giving you a chance. She really likes you, so try not to make her feel any worse than she already does. Bye.”

And then Taliyah was gone, retreating back into the house and leaving Sett standing on the doorstep.

 “Brought you some water,” Taliyah announced as she entered the room, glass in hand.

“Who was at the door?” you asked.

She shrugged. “Someone looking for my dad. Told them he’s not here.”

You nodded. It was probably too much to hope that it would be Sett. You winced as you thought his name. You hated how much you wanted to see him, someone who had used you to win some popular kid ugly date contest.

So it had all been a lie then? All the things he had told you about his life, his family? Every time he had kissed you, was he picturing kissing one of those girls instead? Is this really what popular people did for fun? You felt stupid for falling for it, for falling for him. You were so stupid.

With some prompting from Taliyah, you took a sip of the water. After she had made sure you had drank the whole glass, she sat down next to you, taking the glass from you and setting it down on the bedside table.

“I should have known,” you croaked.

“Known that popular girls are bitchy? Maybe,” she responded.

“That it was too good to be true,” you corrected.

“You’re acting like you’re eighty,” she scolded. “There are other guys out there. Ones who don’t have shitty friends.”

“Yeah, I know,” you replied. “But I really liked him. And I didn’t even get to pet his stupid fuzzy ears.”

“Well if you’re joking, then you must be doing okay,” she said. “How about we go do something to take your mind off of things?”

You frowned, and she rolled her eyes. “Not right this second. I’ll give you until six-thirty to get yourself ready to go.”

Taliyah got up off the bed and headed towards the door. “I’m not gonna let your night be ruined because of a couple of snobs.”

She closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts again. You laid back on the bed, intent on taking some time before you got ready to just veg out. As much as the notion of going out didn’t excite you right now, it was probably better than being a mopey mess all night. There would be other guys; it was just a shame that you had liked this one so much.

Two hours later, you were walking down the street with Taliyah. Your getting ready to go had consisted of washing your face of all the smeared makeup from your crying, brushing your hair into a semi-decent state and then watching dumb cat videos on your phone until you felt like you didn’t want to crawl in a hole and die.

Taliyah had assured you that you didn’t look bad, which you might have believed if you hadn’t seen yourself in the mirror as you were leaving, but at this point you were beyond caring about how you looked right now.

Taliyah had refused to tell you where she was taking you, and so you were forced to follow her down the familiar path towards the beach, unsure of where it was you were being led. Part of you was worried that you might run into Sett, but then the more rational side of you took over; he was likely back at that pool, partying it up with those girls and lamenting that you had run off before he could win his ugly date prize. It was crazy to realize just how flawed your judgment had been.

You had expected to be walking onto the beach, as it was where you two usually spent most of your time, but Taliyah didn’t go to the parking lot, instead heading towards the rockier section of the beach. You hadn’t been over here before, only vaguely aware of the area as a prime fishing location, bait shops and the like lining the street across from this part of the beachfront.

She took you past the fishing spots, down to near the end of the beach, where there was a small pier that went about thirty feet out into the sea. Like most of the beach at this time on a weekday, the pier was empty, most of the fishermen also having headed out with their day’s catches.

Taliyah led you down the pier to the small bench at the end of it, pushing you to sit down. When she didn’t do the same, you looked up at her, confused.

“I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m gonna go grab something to help cheer you up. You just enjoy the view for a bit.”

You decided to follow her advice, staring out at the water. There wasn’t much to see other than some boats in the far distance and some buoys bobbing in the water that marked the swimming section from the boating section.

It was kind of nice in a way, the calm waters helping you to relax as you watched the waves roll in and out. You stayed like that for a while as you allowed yourself to zone out until you began to wonder how much time had passed. Pulling out your phone, you saw that it had been almost twenty minutes, and yet there was no sign of Taliyah as you looked around.

You had assumed that she went to get you two some food, which likely was still the case. Some of the places here tended to have rather large dinnertime crowds, so a twenty minute plus wait wasn’t exactly unusual. You had no idea where she had gone, so all you could do was wait. If she wasn’t back by seven, you would just text her and ask what was up.

You let yourself be taken in again by the rolling waves as you continued to wait, trying to recall what kinds of restaurants there were on the beachfront. It couldn’t be that fish and chips place; Taliyah had spent a full half hour last week complaining about how stale their food was. Or the taco place, since it had been closed for renovations for the past week. You had been trying to think of a third option when your concentration was broken by someone taking a seat next to you on the bench.

You looked over, expecting to see Taliyah back with some food, but instead nearly jolted off of the bench when next to you was the very man you were out here trying to forget.

Just seeing him when you were feeling so pathetic sent a jolt of you weren’t sure what up your spine, your flight instincts screaming at you as you made to stand up, only to be stopped by a firm grip on your wrist.

“I know you don’t wanna see my face right now,” Sett said. “But I can explain.”

“Explain what?” you replied meekly. “Those girls explained enough.”

“I haven’t,” he insisted. “Just listen for a minute. Then you can leave, or punch me, whatever you want.”

You took a look around, still not seeing Taliyah anywhere. You weren’t sure what he could have to say that would make much of a difference, but you sat back down, and he let go of your wrist.

You turned reluctantly to face Sett, waiting for him to talk first.

“Never told ‘em to do somethin’ like that,” he said gruffly. “Didn’t even know about it ‘til I got there and you weren’t there.”

“But they said…” you started, taking a breath to keep yourself calm as you prepared to recount the hurtful words. “They said you were only spending time with me so you could win their whole ugly date contest.”

Sett’s eyes narrowed, the skin of his knuckles tightening on his curling fists. “First I’ve heard of it. Ain’t no way you’d ever place in an ugly contest anyways.”

His words threw you. “Wait, so you don’t think I’m ugly?”

He snorted, a grin playing at his lips. “Well I was plannin’ on askin’ you to be my girlfriend after the party, so nah, I don’t think you’re ugly.”

“You–” you gasped, pulse skyrocketing. This was not how you expected this conversation to go. You were half convinced you were experiencing auditory hallucinations until Sett reached over, pulling you into his side.

“This is my fault,” he spoke lowly. “If I hadn’t been late, I’d have been there to stop that from happening.”

“What happened when you got there?” you asked quietly.

“Braum told me what happened, then those two tried tellin’ me they did it for my sake,” he growled. “I thought I was used to seein’ through bullies from how I grew up. Doesn’t matter now, they won’t be botherin’ you anymore unless they wanna find out why momma says I got her temper.”

“Why were you late anyways?” you asked.

He groaned, leaning his head back against the bench. Even with the sun mostly set, you could clearly see a pink tone to his cheeks.

“What is it?” you pressed, curious about why the intimidating lifeguard was suddenly being so shy.

He let out a long sigh, finally meeting your eyes. “Ma was doin’ my hair.”

You looked him over, realizing that his hair did seem to be tied differently today. The only thing that looked the same was his ears, just as fluffy as they always looked. You could almost hear Taliyah’s voice screaming in your head to pet them. Speaking of Taliyah…

“Taliyah!” you gasped, trying to extract yourself from Sett’s grip, but failing. If Taliyah was to come and see you here with the guy she had taken you out to forget about… “My friend, she’ll be back any second and–”

Sett laughed, and you were immediately left with the feeling that you were missing something.

“She ain’t comin’ back,” he said amusedly. “I’ve got you all to myself for the night… if that’s what you want.”

“Taliyah set me up?” you breathed, not having suspected a thing.

“I asked her to,” Sett explained. “Wasn’t about to let you go ‘cuz of some shallow assholes.”

Taliyah was much sneakier than you had given her credit for, you realized, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind right now. Though that didn’t mean you weren’t hungry, your previous stress melting away and removing the only distraction from your empty stomach.

“So,” you hummed. “Are you still going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”

You still had no idea what would happen by the end of the summer, but you really wanted this. You wanted him.

“Yeah, was plannin’ on it.”

 You had thought about it all the way back to Sett’s house. Was it really for the best to go back to your city when the summer was over? Back to your parents’ house to find an equally demanding and unfulfilling job?

The more you thought about it, the more you wanted to stay. Taliyah was here, Sett was here, and other than your brief nasty encounter at the pool earlier, this summer had been the best one you’d had in a long time.

Sett seemed intent on giving you more reasons to stay as he was on you pretty much as soon as you entered his house. You had been standing in the entryway, looking at a picture of what must have been Sett and his mother when he caught you off guard, picking you up from behind.

You yelped, turning your head back to face him just in time for him to dart forward to snatch a kiss.

“You’ll have time to look around later,” he said as he walked down the hall, nudging a door open with his shoulder and then taking you into what looked to be his bedroom.

Once again, you were scarcely granted a look around before Sett had overtaken your attention yet again. You were swiftly carried over and deposited on the bed, Sett eagerly caging your body down against the sheets with his own.

“I wanted to go slow,” he said against your ear. “Didn’t wanna mess things up. But that’s not what you want, is it?”

“No,” you gasped as he snaked a hand under your dress, and then under your swimsuit bottoms. “I… I want…”

“This?” he inquired, thumb brushing against your clit, causing you to jolt against him with a breathy moan. “Waited a long time to hear that.”

Seeking more room to work, Sett pulled back to reach down and pull down your swimsuit bottoms, tossing them to the side. You watched with reddening cheeks as he returned his attention to you, head disappearing under your dress next.

His first lick against your pussy felt back-archingly good, but you didn’t have a lot of room to move with Sett’s hands holding your lower half in place. His tongue felt slightly rough, bringing pricks of pleasure-pain along its path.

Closing your eyes tight, you tried not to squirm, but it was difficult as Sett’s tongue prodded inside you before moving back to sucking at your clit. It felt good, almost too good, but you found yourself wanting more than his mouth against you.

“Sett,” you moaned. “Please…”

You weren’t sure if he got the message until you reached down to grasp at one of his hands. He pulled back from you, wiping one forearm against the wet lower half of his face as he sat back. His position on his knees on the bed allowed you a good look at the decently-sized bulge in the front of his tight swim shorts.

Sett caught your eyes, reaching one hand down to cup his cock through his shorts. “All you, sweetheart. Still think I think you’re ugly?”

You somehow managed to shake your head, speechless from his ardent display of his body. Sett seemed to bask in just how speechless he had made you, a sexy grin overtaking his face as he stared down at you.

“Couldn’t ask for more than this,” he said. “But if you want more…”

He was such a tease. With a burning face, you relented.

“Could you just put it in me please?” you asked, too shy to make eye contact.

“Can do,” he replied, and you could easily hear the smug satisfaction in his voice.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Sett stood up from the bed to pull his shorts off, wincing slightly when he pulled the tight fabric over his painfully-hard cock. Tossing the shorts to the floor, his attention quickly returned to you.

Giving his cock a few slow strokes, he watched you sit up on the bed. Feeling a burst in confidence from his display, you reached down to the hem of your dress’ skirt before pulling it up and off your body, Sett’s hungry gold eyes unable to look away from you as you moved onto your swimsuit top.

Once your top was off, Sett struck, pulling you towards him. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he pulled you onto his lap, reaching around to your front to cup your breasts as his mouth went straight to your neck. His hands were warm against the sensitive skin of your breasts, rolling your nipples under his thumbs as his teeth scraped against a sensitive spot on your neck.

You felt his hard cock under you and shifted yourself against it, Sett letting out a deep groan in response. You could feel how wet you were, but this wasn’t enough. You needed to fuck him, needed this building tension to come to a satisfying end for you both.

You turned in his lap, looping your arms around his neck and leaning down to kiss him. Sett was happy to meet tongues with you, one hand resting on your ass until you pulled back from the kiss.

You met eyes with Sett, who began to help you lift yourself up, lining up his cock with his other hand. When he brought you back down onto him, you both sighed as you were fully seated on his cock at last.

“Nothin’ else would feel as good as you,” Sett groaned as he began to help you move and up and then back down onto him. “Never wanted any girl as bad as I want you.”

You were much less coherent, moaning out his name as your hands grasped against his chest. With a further burst of confidence, you reached a hand up to his ear, running your fingers along the fur and enjoying the resulting groan, the next upward thrust of his hips hitting even better into you. Maybe you would leave this out at Taliyah’s interrogation later.

“There,” you moaned as he shifted you in his lap, his cock hitting even deeper inside you. “Right there, Sett.”

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, pulling you down into a rough kiss as he held you close, thrusting up into you as you eagerly moved along with him, needing to make this gorgeous man under you cum.

Sett came first, stilling for a moment before pulling you slightly back to put a finger to your clit, letting you cling to him as you followed him over the edge.

Once you had both come back down from the clouds, you were set back gently on the bed so Sett could run off to grab a cloth to clean you up with. You watched him leave the room, still having a hard time comprehending just how you had ended up this situation.

You definitely had some phone calls to make tomorrow. Your parents would be surprised, but you would probably focus on the Taliyah part rather than the new boyfriend part of your reasoning. Taliyah would be overjoyed for sure; you’d have to thank her for her meddling when you saw her.

As Sett returned, you realized something.

“Wait, is your mom home?” you asked in horror. You hadn’t made any effort to be quiet during sex, forgetting about his mother until he re-entered the room.

Sett laughed at your mortified face. “I don’t live with ma, so no.”

“Oh god,” you breathed in relief. “I was worried I was too…”

“She ain’t here,” he replied as he joined you on the bed, handing you the cloth he had grabbed. “You can be as loud as you want.”

You dropped the cloth, burying your head in your hands, Sett’s amused laughter ringing in your ears as you tried to content with just what you had signed yourself up for.

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

Moonlight -x- Sunlight

ch. 2 - Kocho (cw//banner has flashing text!)

r.kyojuro/f.reader

genre: modern!au, teacher!kyojuro by day/demonslayer by night, izakayaworker!reader, slowburn?, romance, angst

warning(s): non-descriptive nudity (y/n takes a shower and shinobu need to assess her injuries so she strips), taco being an unintentional ass, a lot of shinobu in this chapter lol

w.count: 6.4k

synopsis: if someone told you that one night you'd find yourself walking down the street at three in the morning before you were running for your life away from a disjointed monster hot on your heels- you'd probably check for fever or intoxication. but, when that actually happens, all you think of is running and praying for a miracle as you stare death in the face. turns out, that miracle comes in the form of reassuring smiles and a red sword beneath a bridge and by the riverside.

-x-x-x-

a/n: just so we're aware i will be using honorifics for this fic (and pretty much most of) ^^ i just like the way they sound instead of plain names lol. anyways! pls enjoy the next chapter of moonlight -x- sunlight and lemme know what you all think and if you want more!!

-x-x-x-

“Taco,” you groan, “get off me.”

The cat currently kneading on your shoulder did not, in fact, get off you. Crying in your ear, you finally crack your eyes open and find yourself face-first into the back cushions of your couch. For a moment you're confused as to why you’re in the living room in the first place. The second you tense your body in preparation to sit up, however, you instantly remember.

Immediately, any movement you had started ceases and you collapse back into the cushions. Your whole body screams at you. Your muscles are sore and just the simple act of twitching sends a wave of discomfort and pain throughout your body; accompanied by a-- probably over-dramatic-- moan. Your back stung in small cuts from the blades of grass you recall being dragged across and your ankle hadn’t exactly healed overnight.

Following the pain, the memories of the terror that you had felt the previous night shot you with a harsh reminder that all of that was real. It happened and it wasn't just some overactive nightmare. You really experienced all that pain last night and somehow survived it.

“Ow! Taco!” You yell as your beloved pet stretched across your back. Clearly, he didn’t mean to hurt you, but your loud volume had him jumping off the couch and stretching on his own on the carpet. Although you knew it was an unintentional attack on his behalf, the action didn’t prevent the short ‘asshole’ that came out of your mouth.

Even if he was off you now, his insistent crying had you woefully rolling and maneuvering to your feet.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re hungry, I know.” You rub your head with a wince. “I need some coffee anyways. And some pain meds.”

-x-x-x-

You manage to hoist yourself off the couch with more effort than you're willing to admit; accompanied by even more verbal complaints in the form of curses before limping yourself pretty pathetically into the kitchen. Taco trailed behind you before rushing in front of your legs and then turning around to make sure you were really coming to feed him.

He acts like he hadn't been fed a day in his life.

The kitchen tiles are cool on the bottoms of your feet and as you pull a small can of cat food from the cabinet, you lift your foot up off the floor and use the counter to lean on for balance and to keep pressure off the injury. Scooping the wet food into a small bowl, you bend the best you can at your hips and practically drop the rubber coated, non-slip bowl onto the tile for whatever remainined distance you couldn't bend to. Grunting, you come back to stand straight up and huff.

You hobble your way out of the kitchen, leaving your munching cat behind, and make way to the bathroom where you had told the man last night (Rengoku you think he said his name was) you had some cheap, assorted braces stashed inside. Taking an ankle brace from under the sink, you place it on the sink counter before you finally catch a glimpse of your reflection.

“Oh my god!” You gasp, leaning over the sink and touching your face with your fingers. You’ve looked better.

Your hair was clumped and had bits of dried dirt and grass tangled up in it. Your skin was smeared with the remaining dust from your hair dirt that had your face feeling far drier now that you realize it’s on you. Your shirt was practically ruined, all stained up and ripped, same with your shorts covered in grass stains on the cheeks and entire left side. You were covered in small paper-thin cuts from the blade of grass you rolled down when you twisted your ankle and when you turned to pull up your shirt to see your back, you gasped again at the nasty marks that nearly resembled a torn-up cat scratching post.

“Holy shit,” you seethe. Without much more thought, you begin stripping. Peeling off your shirt, your shorts, your bra and panties follow close behind. You decide to throw all articles away and only winced mildly at the sight of your bra in the trash bin because you knew you’d have to replace it and they were just so expensive. You shook your head, it was for the greater good anyway.

You walk- well amble- around the bathroom, until you’re pulling open the glass shower door and leaning inside to adjust the showerhead so it points against the wall and away from your half-in, half-out body before turning it on. You twist the handle until it points about midway into the red portion of the red-blue water temperature stickers and wait for the cold water to stop coming out of the showerhead.

Sticking your hand until the stream, you nod to yourself and take a deep breath. You know when you step inside and let the water hit your back it wasn’t going to exactly tickle. You also know that you can't just leave your body dirty and unclean like this- that wouldn’t be good and you don't want to risk any infections.

Taking another deep breath, you hold it and clamber into the shower as quickly as you can with one working foot and confidence about as flimsy as cardboard. Shutting the door behind you, the magnetic latch clanks the door shut and you reach up to move the showerhead so the stream fell onto your chest and down as you looked up. You let the water run down your front before you spun around and just as you knew, your back lit up with lines of stinging fire.

“Ow!” You whine, lurching forward and slamming one hand on your thigh and the other against the back wall of your cramped, standing shower. You feel your eyes burn hot with unshed tears of pain but soon, the stinging sensation dies down and all that was left was the numb feeling of the cuts just letting the water pass over them. You let out the breath you didn’t know you had taken when the water hit the wounds. Standing back up again, you take a proper shower the best you could with your beat-up body.

Using the cheap bar soap you had gotten, you lathered it all across your body to clean your cuts and skin of any more dirt and grass stains. Washing your hair was a task in itself, but eventually, you got it done. Then, you lower yourself to sit in the middle of your shower floor, leaning sideways into the wall and letting the water fall from above like warm raindrops.

This close to the floor, you could clearly hear the water glugging down the drain, and without really realizing it, you let yourself cry. Alone and clean and somehow still reeling from exactly how you got injured in the first place. It all just came crashing into you out of nowhere.

“God,” you sniffle as you just sit there in your own silence and the comforting sounds of the water.

-x-x-x-

When you had finally gotten out of your pity shower, you had wrapped a towel around your shoulders and left the bathroom. In the privacy of your own home, you had no issues walking around in the nude or close to it; it wasn’t like Taco was judging you through his little cat eyes.

You limp your way back into the living room where you sit on the couch and place the first-aid kit you had brought with you out of the bathroom, along with the ankle brace, on the coffee table. You slip on the brace first, securing the velcro straps across your foot and ankle, and wince at the slight pressure being applied. Then, you start littering your arms and legs with bandaids, additional globs of Neosporin on the non-stick gauze portions of the bandages. Once that’s done, you sit and contemplate on what to do with your back, then your eyes finally see the notepad that had been scribbled on.

“Oh, that’s right,” you say to yourself as you reach forward and grab the notepad, bringing it up to your face to read. The neatly written number on the small paper reminds you that the stranger from last night had written it down. “He told me to call this number if I wanted to,” you reach into your purse that had been sitting on the ground beside the couch and grab your phone, opening up the phone app and pulling up the dial-pad.

Without much hesitation, you punch in the numbers and triple-check them before tapping the green icon for an outgoing call. As it rings, you shudder in anxiety and gulp down the thickness in your throat. The sting in your back was what made you call so quickly and the fact that you remember he had told you that this person, his friend, would understand your circumstances.

You almost jump off the couch and pro-throw your phone out the window when the call is picked up. The baseball bat known as anxiety swinging at you with the attempt at a homerun at the sound of a clearing throat on the other end.

“Hello?” The voice is soft, sweet, and high-pitched. The name written under the jotted down number did sound like a woman's, but the voice was further proof that your assumption was correct. “May I help you with something?” Her voice asks again before you’re shaking yourself out of your silence and stuttering into the call.

“U-um, hello,” you want to smack yourself for sounding lame. “Is this,” you pause to look at the name written down just to make sure you get it right, “Kocho Shinobu-san?” Your voice heightens at the end of your question and there is only a small pause at the other end of the call. Perfectly normal in length, but you find a way to make yourself nervous in that small bit of silence.

“It is,” she confirms. “May I ask who is calling?”

“I’m- well, my name is s/n. Last night, some stuff happened, and,” you stop and huff before blurting out, “a man referred me to you. He said his name was Rengoku?”

“Rengoku-san?” She questions back and you nod, but quickly remember this is a phone call.

“Y-yes, ma’am.” You gulp again at the small hum of confirmation on her end. “Would it have been better not to call you?” You ask.

“No, if Rengoku-san asked you to reach out to me, then circumstances must have called for it. Are you in need of medical assistance, s/n-san?”

“I think so? I'm just-" you huff. "Yes,” you finalize. You slightly hear her chuckle on the other end.

“I see, then would you be able to travel to my clinic? If Rengoku-san is sending you straight to me, you must be within a reasonable distance. If I give the address, could you make it to the location?”

“Yes, I think I could. I can do that.”

“Wonderful!” She cheers and throughout the phone call, you hadn't realized that her voice has actually calmed you down. “Would you like me to send it to you via text on the number you’ve called me on, or just tell it to you and you can write it down.”

“If the options open, a text would probably be better. I don’t want to forget the paper it if I write it down.”

“I understand. Then, please confirm this phone number for me, if you would,. You rattle off your phone number and she hums again. “Alright. Once this call ends, I’ll send you the address and you can start making your way here. No need to schedule anything due to your current circumstance. Just do your best to make it here and I’ll be with you when you arrive.”

“Thank you very much,” you tell her before you're getting off the phone and staring at the ceiling again.

You push yourself off the couch and go into your room. It was summer, and hot and it would only get hotter, but all you could think to wear was a hoodie over your torso. There was no way you would be putting on a bra, the straps and latch would irritate your back and shoulders and a hoodie would be thick enough to hide your braless chest. Pulling on gym shorts under the hoodie, you slip on ankle socks and go back to the living room to grab your purse.

You plug your phone into the portable charger you keep in your purse and see a notification from an unknown number come through with an address and a follow-up message addressing that it was from Kocho.

You open your phone and call for a cab to take you as close to the clinic as possible. According to the GPS, it seems like her clinic was just outside of city limits. So, you’d probably have to take a cab to a bus station and then take the bus the rest of the way out.

When your taxi arrives, you pet Taco’s head and kiss his nose before telling him goodbye and leaving. Limping down the two steps outside your front door, the cab driver- a younger woman- hops out and rushes to you seeing you limping.

“Do you need any help?!” She worries before you graciously take her outstretched arm and nod. The painkillers you had taken once you had got out of the shower weren’t doing much for your pain and so the added human crutch was appreciated.

“Thank you,” you tell her as she helps you in and then gets into the driver's seat before driving to the bus stop you ask her to.

After the drive to the bus stop, loading the bus, and taking it the rest of the way, you soon find yourself on a semi-paved road and following the remaining distance Kocho sent you by way of your trusty GPS app. You follow it’s electronic directions until you’re standing in front of a building.

It wasn’t anything giant like a hospital, in-fact it hardly even looked like a clinic. It was styled older than modern clinics and buildings, and you could see that past the entrance was a stone pathway that split in two separate ways, one path leading to a large garden you just barely make out. The house in front of you looked like an old, traditional home. Though, when you hobbled towards the front door, the nameplate on the side of the wooden entrance had ‘Kocho’ etched into it, so there was no way you were mistaken.

You reach out and press the small, white buzzer and you could hear it buzzing through the building inside; you shift around nervously in your waiting.

Before long, the door was being opened and a short, black-haired woman with purple ends was smiling in front of you. Dressed in a black turtle neck and matching slackers, the white doctors' coat she wore was a stark contrast. The butterfly clip she had on the back of her head holding back her hair was just as beautiful as she was. You almost blushed at her sudden appearance.

“Welcome!” You could tell by her recognizable voice that this was Kocho Shinobu. “S/n-san correct?” She guesses and you're nodding, feeling sweat roll down your neck and the center of your chest. “Oh my! It’s far too hot for a hoodie like that!” She gently chastises before she’s leading you inside.

She takes you to a room not far from the entrance and inside looks like an office setup. A desk with all sorts of books standing between brackets and files with papers neatly stored in them. The filing cabinet beside the desk is probably chock-full of all sorts of files and documents on patients and procedures and medicines. The office vaguely smells like antiseptic and there's a small table and stool for examinees' you assume.

Obviously, this was her own personal office where she conducts private one-on-one sessions with patients like yourself.

She directs you to the stool behind her desk chair and you gladly take a seat before she sits in front of you. You almost sigh in relief at the released pressure on your throbbing ankle.

“Before we start any form of examination, would you mind explaining from the beginning?” You know she’s asking why you were referred to her in the first place. Rengoku said that she would understand and it’d be easy from there on, so it must not be too crazy to tell her you were attacked... would it? But, how do you start such a story?

She seems to notice your mental dilemma and closes her eyes with a gentle smile. She crosses her legs and sets her hands, one on top of the other, atop her knee before reopening her eyes and looking at you.

“May I ask for your full name, s/n-san?”

“It’s s/n y/n. Oh, but you're more than willing to call me by my given name if you’d like, since we appear to be close in age.” You then remember that regardless of age, this woman was a doctor. "Oh! But only if you want to, of course."

“I was thinking the same. My name is Kocho Shinobu, though you already knew that thanks to my acquaintance.” You nod at her. “Rengoku-san was your referral, so can I assume this is a matter that normal doctors’ wouldn’t quite understand? Or would require you to lie about how you got injured because no one would believe you?”

You light up and nod.

“Yes! That’s exactly it!” She smiles at you and you know that’s the green light to go ahead and spill your guts about everything.

So, you do.

You tell her about when you got off work and when you felt the violent chill rack through you in the middle of summer. About how that demon tried to chomp off your head and how you managed to kick it at least twice, but how in terms of damage it did a lot more to you than you to it. And how Rengoku had saved you before carrying you back home and leaving you before you passed out on the couch.

“My, my,” she frowns, “it seems you had quite a terrifying time. If it’s alright with you, once I take a look at your physical wounds, it may not be a bad idea to consider possible testing with your mental health. Occurrences like the one you encountered are almost always traumatic, and proper treatment needs to be done to more than just your body.”

“So, like therapy?”

“Something of the sort. I have plenty of staff who work in this clinic with me who could help you with that, but for now, let’s just focus on a physical examination.” You nod and she stands. She helps you pull the hoodie you wore off as gently as possible since you continue to wince when you raise your arms- your shoulders still pretty sore. “If you're uncomfortable, please tell me and we can work out means to make you more comfortable.”

“It’s alright," you reassure. "I don’t mind stripping down for a check-up. It helps that you're a woman and you seem very professional too,” you laugh. She acted just as poised as she did when you were fully clothed. Being a first-time client of hers, even if you never came back, she had to take all sorts of measurements and ask all different kinds of questions as she filled out sheets of information. You understood, and you already planned on calling off for the night at the izakaya so you had the time to spare for all the extra stuff.

Plus, Kocho just seemed like a good person, and being around her made you feel lighter; calmer.

Blood type, allergies, weight, height, bust-hip-waist measurements, blood pressure, heartbeats per second, all sorts of things were jotted down before she was finally ready to assess all the bandages plastered all over you and the wounds on your back she had seen earlier during your measurements. Apparently, there’s a separate wing to the clinic just past the garden that houses any long-term clients and they’re always supplied with patient uniforms or robes. Measurements are taken so they could be tailored for comfort.

“I hate to break it to you, y/n-san, but I’ll have to remove all these bandages.” You could practically hear her frown as she walks around your stool a couple times looking you up and down as you sit in nothing but your underwear. Lucky, she had let you put pasties over your breasts so you’d feel less exposed- she kept spare around for her more embarrassment-prone clients.

“That’s fine. I just didn’t want to get dirt or anything in them. They can come off.” You peel one off before you see the shiny residue of the Neosporin. “Oh, they have antibacterial cream under them too, so that might need to be wiped off.”

“That wasn’t a bad call putting ointment on your cuts,” she nods. “I’ll grab some wipes.” She walks to her desk and grabs a small case of baby wipes and pops the top open before grabbing a couple and handing one to you. “You focus on your arms and I’ll take the ones off your legs and wipe them down. I’ll also take this brace off your foot while I’m down here too so I can look at it later.” You nod and get to work.

All in all, before, during, and even after the exam when she lets you throwback on your hoodie, you realize you’ve never been more calm, composed, and comfortable during a doctor's visit before. One that you spent the majority of nude anyways.

“Unfortunately, I can’t offer too much for your cuts and bruises aside from recommending some pain medication and keeping them clean like any other standard cut. Since they were grass cuts, they shouldn’t take much time to heal at all- much like paper cuts. So, just focus on keeping them free of dirt and such.” She was scribbling something on a piece of paper before she spoke up again. “As for your ankle, it’s luckily not fractured,” you sigh in relief, “though a badly sprained ankle still isn’t good. Putting pressure on it for too long can add damage and make the sprain worse. They take time to heal. I’ll be sending you back with a crutch along with a better-reinforced brace. I’ll also prescribe you some higher dosage of medicine to help with the pain.”

You almost sigh in relief at the idea of pain medicine that will actually work.

“Is it okay to soak my foot in like Epsom salt? That’s supposed to help with swelling right? My mom used to tell me that she’d soak her feet all the time when she was pregnant with me because they’d swell and hurt.”

Kocho looked up from her paper and smiled at you, nodding. “Yes, that should help contain the swelling and manage the pain as well. It’s a good alternative to deal with sprains and breaks so one doesn’t become dependent on pills alone. I would recommend that.”

You make a mental note to buy some at the store on the way back home.

When she finishes up, she briefly leaves the office only to come back and escort you back to the front. There, you’re met with another girl who seems quite a bit younger than you with pigtails pinned up with similar hair clips to Kocho’s. She’s holding a white paper bag that’s stapled shut and a crutch. You assume both are for you.

“Thank you, Aoi,” Kocho says to the girl who hands over the items before she’s excusing herself back to her own work. She seemed like a diligent girl, despite her young age. It was refreshing.

Kocho adjusts the crutch under you before placing the prescription bag in your purse for you and soon you're lifting your foot off the ground in its new, professional, reinforced brace and leaning on the cutch that’s pushing under your arm.

“Kocho-sensei?” You address as she’s on her knees making the few adjustments in height to your crutch so it’s more comfortable for you. She hums at your call. “How much do I owe you?” She chuckles before she’s nodding, a small ‘there we go!’ under her breath and she’s standing in front of you again.

“Thanks to Rengoku-san’s recommendation and referral, your visits related to these injuries are complimentary.” Your jaw drops. She chuckles at your shock and elaborates. “While I do run a clinic that charges its regular patients for regular check-ups and exams, for cases like yours when a demon is involved, we do not charge those victims. Everything about being a victim of a demon attack is already shocking enough to the human mind- from their existence being confirmed to injuries the attacked person may sustain; so to ease the shock and pressure of the situation, we offer our services freely to them only.”

You slowly nod. That… makes a lot of sense.

Victims like you would surely be in shock after such an event and additional hospital charges would take their toll on an already stressed out individual. That’s why Rengoku referred you to this clinic, so you wouldn’t have to deal with hospitals or their fees. You smile, but still feel a bit guilty for having nothing to give back.

“However, after your wounds have healed from this particular occurrence, should you choose to remain a patient of ours, we’ll have to start implementing a charge then. We’re still a business at the end of the day.”

“I understand.” She helps you down into the genkan and out to the entrance.

“Are you going to be able to make it to the bus stop on your own?” She worries.

“I made it here earlier without a crutch, so having one with me will definitely make it easier. I’ll manage.”

“If you’re certain. I’ll give you a call in a few days and we can schedule a follow-up then. For now, take some time and rest.”

“I will. Thank you for all your hard work, Kocho-sensei.”

“You can drop the ‘sensei’, we’re the same age. It makes me feel old,” she insists. It feels wrong to not address her with the respect she clearly deserves, but if she doesn’t want you to, you’ll listen. It wouldn’t do you any good to argue on what she prefers to be called.

“If you insist, Kocho,” you chuckle.

“Much better.” She claps her hands in front of her chest and smiles. “Now, you best hurry. The next bus won’t take long to arrive. I wouldn’t want you to miss it.” You nod and soon you’re on your way to the stop and once she can no longer see you, she goes back inside the clinic.

By the time you get home, you’re hot and sweaty and ready for another shower honestly. The summer heat really took it out of you and the inside of your hoodie stuck uncomfortably to your sweat-slicked skin. You place the bag of Epsom salt and ice/heating packs in the living room before Taco is between your legs, rubbing on them before he’s sniffing the brace with the unfamiliar scent.

You plop down onto the couch and laugh at the continuous sniffing he’s giving your brace and crutch that’s currently leaning against the couch cushion beside you. Before you forget, you take out your phone and pull up your contacts and call your boss. He definitely wouldn’t be happy you needed to take some time off, but hopefully, he’d be at least a little understanding.

You were cleared to take a week off from work and you just hoped that’d be enough time to get back up on your feet- literally.

-x-x-x-

Your week off passes by far too quickly for your liking- and Kocho’s for that matter. You were sitting in your bathroom on the closed lid of the toilet with your foot soaking in a bowl of water and dissolved Epsom salt. It was a small luxury you were trying to enjoy that also helped your still present swelling before you had to trudge your way to the izakaya later.

Kocho had called you about three days into your unprompted PTO to schedule your follow-up. When you had told her that you had only four days left on leave from work, she immediately asked you what your job was. Answering back with an occupation that requires you to not only be on your feet constantly but move quickly? She was not a very happy doctor.

In your defense, the pain factor had gone down a lot since the original incident and it was way more bearable in terms of mobility and pain management. So long as you could convince your boss to let you take small power breaks between servicing tables, your foot would be fine- probably.

The swelling never lasted and when it flared up, you’d just take a couple pills and soak it until it felt like all the blood rushing into the limb was rushing away. The bruising still looked pretty nasty as you twisted and turned your foot to look at it, but you knew it would look worse before it would start looking better. You could definitely feel the soreness of the spots of dark blues and purples outlined by the ugliest shades of recovering damage.

Meanwhile, all your minor cuts along your body and back have scabbed up and stopped hurting completely. Some have already healed, leaving only small, faux scars that will eventually fade in time. Overall, your progress has been considerable given how you started out in this whole situation.

Then, your mind wandered back to Rengoku, that fire-haired stranger from that night. You had asked Kocho if there was any way to get in touch with him since they clearly knew each other, but she only told you she couldn’t exactly give out his personal information- phone number included. You understood, but you still pouted when she told you. All you wanted to do was thank him properly and not a quickly rushed ‘thank you’ like you gave him before you essentially chased him out of your house before.

“Could you maybe tell him that I’m grateful for what he did, then?” You asked her when she had called. “I don't know if I’ll ever see him again, so I just want him to know I’m very appreciative.”

“I’ll pass it along,” she had promised before the call ended. You hadn’t talked to her since, and you had no reason to expect her to reach out to you anyways. She was your doctor, not your pal. As much as you liked her personality and thought she’d be a good friend, it just wasn’t in your cards. Your little social circle was pretty much consisted of coworkers and a few online friends you had met over the years that you rarely have the chance to speak to comfortably due to time differences.

You always wish you had more friends. Sometimes you felt like a Sim and your social need was in the red, but you had no way to fix it. If only it were that simple.

Your train of thought was halted by Taco waltzing into the bathroom and sitting at your feet, sniffing curiously at the bowl your foot was soaking in. You tut and reach down to scratch at his head. You could feel him purr as he immediately began to push against your hand and rub on your leg before he flops onto his back, just barely out of your reach.

“Taco, please,” you laugh as he rolls and flips back to his paws again, resuming his rubbing against your leg. “You’re impossible,” you chuckle as you lift your foot when the timer you set for your foot starts going off. Thus, your evening begins.

When you make it into work, the izakaya isn’t open yet, still just barely hitting six o'clock. You’re greeted by the staff already behind the bar and the few heads popping out from the kitchen to say hello. A few ‘how’s your foot?’ concerns are thrown at you as you just tell them that you’ll be taking it a bit slow tonight, but otherwise, you’ll be fine. A few looked at you skeptically, others didn’t bother to show concern at all.

Such is the life of a 'whatever you are' to some of the other employees.

After explaining the situation to your boss, and your marching orders of ‘if you’re in too much pain, sit down for a few’, you went to start prep before opening.

Luckily, as you worked and served guests, you had managed to work as you had before your injury. You tried to hide your limp the best you could and you acted as if you weren’t in pain- minor or not- at all. A few regulars had asked if you had taken time off for a vacation or something, but you just smiled and answered with ‘something like that’.

For some reason, telling your guests that you were injured and still recovering made it feel like you were fishing for something. Sympathy? Pity maybe? Whatever it was, you didn’t like how it tasted in your mouth, so you kept it to yourself. You could handle this on your own.

You were placing two mugs of beer on a table when you heard the door of the izakaya slide open.

“Welcome!” You shouted just as you did every other time people came in. However, your smile dropped into an expression of surprise when two men step inside.

One towering at a height that had to be over six-foot with hair like snow- probably dyed- and the gaudiest headband you’ve ever seen. With him was your flame-haired savior from just over a week ago! Dressed in what you guessed was his work clothes, the same style you had seen him in before. Dress shirt, ironed pants, and shined shoes, only now he wore a blazer that remained unbuttoned and rested on his shoulders.

When his eyes met yours he smiled back at your shock.

“Hello again!” He greets. You nod back at him and the taller, white-haired man just gives you both a look going from Rengoku to you and back. “You look well, much better than the last time I saw you!”

“I should hope so. It’s been a week, if I still looked as beat up as before, I’d be seriously worried for my health. Now, if you both would please,” you stretch your arms inwards and they get the hint to step out of the doorway so if anyone is coming in after them, they don't clash with each other. That, and the fact that both men were so bulky, not to mention his friend being giant, were taking up the entire doorway so anyone leaving had no chance of getting through unless they moved.

You sit them down and place two separate glasses of water in front of them before anything else.

“How is your ankle?” Rengoku asks out of nowhere and it startles you for a moment before you remember the pain in your joint. You wince unconsciously before you quickly try to will yourself to forget it again. “Kocho had passed the message along that you indeed traveled to her clinic outside of the city for treatment.”

“I did. She was a big help and made me feel right at home. I appreciate the referral to her. I’d like to keep her as my regular doctor. once this is through truthfully.” He laughs, and you swear the entire inside of the pub-style restaurant goes quiet for one, single moment before all the noise returns.

“I’m sure she would love to have you as a regular client! She surely wouldn’t reject the idea.”

“I can only hope,” you smile before handing over a couple small menus with listed snacks and alcohol choices. “I won’t be able to serve you two tonight, but my coworkers will take great care of you! Someone will be right over to help with anything else.” The two of them nod but before you go, you keep Rengoku’s attention. “Thank you again for last week. I never got a chance to thank you properly.” You quickly bow to him before digging your hands in your waist-apron pocket and digging out a small receipt paper, prepping for your next table. “I’d be in a lot worse shape than I am now- if I was here at all without your help. I really appreciate all you did for me.”

“It was no trouble! As I told you, it is my job to make sure people like you get home safely!” You just nod at him. Considering how rare it seemed to you, he seemed very well trained and equally well-versed in demons. You let the idea pass through your mind that maybe demons are more common than you think, and you were just ignorant of them all this time. Regardless, you knew that it definitely couldn’t have been a rare occasion of him saving someone’s life. It could have just been another day. But to you, it was still more than that.

“Still, thank you very much, Rengoku-san.” He had momentarily forgotten that you had known his name since he had told you to tell Kocho who had referred you; as well as the good doctor had probably brought him up herself during your exam.

Regardless, he still smiled and accepted your gratitude before you were rushing off, trying not to trip over the limp he could tell you were still trying to hide.

“What’s the deal with her?” His friend, who had basically been an ignored third-wheel ever since they walked in the door, finally asked. “You walk her home one night or what?”

“Ah, it is not so simple. She was nearly a victim of our second profession; however, she held out long enough for me to arrive and aide her.” His friend’s mouth opened in silent understanding before he pushed the heel of his hand into his chin, his elbow on the tabletop.

“So, that's why she's trying not to limp?”

-x-x-x-

a/n: why is shinobu so hard to write for t-t i rly dont think i did her justice hnnnnnnng

[jeanbeaux]

YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF ME (BUT THAT’S WHEN WE AGREED WE’D PART)

eren jaeger x f!reader

w/c: 2.2K

warnings: 18+/minors DNI/smut, modern!au, characters are 25 in this, public sex (car sex), unprotected sex, slight vouyeriusm, fingering, eren generally being a menace to society (alternatively, eren being an aries male), you have glasses for a portion of this so for my 20/20 eyesight havers you’ve got those fake 2008 nerd glasses from hot topic on for the stories sake

a/n: ok!! so this is my first real smut and once again my horny thoughts are inspired by er*n jaeger (all blame goes to @welcometotheclubhoe for converting me into one of his fuckers) this all came to me in a fever dream so im sorry. as usual, much love for my beta readers @aiiwa & @ivsahi who are always down to read my nonsense no matter how late it is. also special shout out to @smoochiesdiarie who previewed the first half of this yesterday, i hope u enjoy the rest! im also sorry the title reads like an old fall out boy song

They say that nothing in life is absolute; everything can and will come to an end one way or another.

And even though your parents would always tell you this when you were younger, you had made it your life’s mission to find that one absolute — in the love shared between your first group of girlfriends or the intense infatuation with the boy band you had in middle school.

The fire that fueled your belief in these concepts being everlasting eventually faded away, as is the consequence of growing up. You were starting to resign yourself to the fact that your father’s lame joke was true, that it really was just death and taxes as the only things with finality to them in this world until you finally met your third absolute:

Which was that Eren Jaeger would be the absolute death of you.

You couldn’t be any more different — him being a loud mouthed business major and you, the STEM enthusiast aiming for medical school, and yet fate had brought the two of you together in a freshman gen ed on world democracy. You had planned on spending the semester as a silent observer, speaking only when required, but something about the way he cockily stated his opinions on the structure of the Greek government as though they were facts made you want to punch him in the face.

So you countered him, meeting the challenge in his seafoam green eyes across the lecture hall. You were satisfied, thinking you had finally shut the entitled prick up.

Much to your chagrin, he quirked his full lips into a smirk before saying, “tch, what makes you so sure that I’m wrong, specs?”

It was enough for you to commit to all out war, the both of you proceeding to terrorize your classmates and your poor geriatric professor for the next 15 weeks debating even the most minute difference of opinion.

Here’s your absolute — there’s no way you could hate anyone more than you hated Eren Jaeger.

But that one unraveled just as quickly as the others, all because of one late night library run-in. The words and formulas in your chemistry textbook were starting to blur with the final was less than 12 hours away. You didn’t know what you knew, and the packet of Ruffles you were craving getting caught in the vending machine hook wasn’t making things any easier.

“Maybe try calling the machine stupid, specs!” Eren had called out, that stupid self satisfied grin plastered on his face. You looked back at him glaring daggers, hoping he’d just leave you alone.

Instead, you found his smile faltering, concern washing over his features.

Maybe it was the bags under your eyes or the fact that they were starting to go glassy with tears, but he grabbed your wrist and told you to follow him despite you protesting you had to go back to studying, leading to a spot he had set up on the roof of the library. His book bag was open on a blanket he had set up on the ground, but the only thing he had pulled out was a Nintendo Switch, the faint noises of the game’s background music playing into the night.

“Here,” he said, shoving the very bag of chips you were waiting on into your hands. “You need this more than I do. Take a minute to breathe in the fresh air, specs, you’ll be fine regardless of what happens tomorrow. We all will be.”

“How can you be so sure of that?”

“Why shouldn’t I be? I know what I know.”

“Is that why you’re playing Animal Crossing on the roof instead of reviewing?”

“No use cramming now. Besides, if you study like you debate you’ll have a fighting chance against your final. So take a break and help me build this island? Tom Nook’s being a total bitch and I could use some backup.”

That's how the story of the whirlwind relationship between the daredevil boy and girl who sought stability in every step she took began. You can’t exactly pinpoint where that hatred turned into love, but you’ve felt it rear its head again when he insists that fostering four dogs in your cramped apartment is a good idea. Or the time when he decided to create an ice bath out of a kiddie pool in the living room to beat the summer heat.

How he could wave off those acts of utter idiocy with an “everything will be absolutely fine” was beyond you — but he was right. The apartment still stands with minimal water damage, and now houses one of the pitbulls from that fateful week. He’s worn you down to be more malleable to his harebrained schemes — and that's how you end up here, sitting on the beach with him under the dusky sky, feeding each other the white cake you had picked up from the mom and pop bakery you had spotted on the way.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers as he presses a kiss on your forehead.

“Eren Grice Jaeger what are you going to rope me into now?”

He doesn’t bother answering as he scoops you up bridal style, announcing it’s nothing too bad as he carries you towards the shore.

“Eren so help me god if you plan on throwing me into the water I’ll —”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll end you.” Eren waded to the point where he’s calf deep in the water, swaying slightly as he rocks you back and forth above the dark blue waves.

“Okay,” he agrees, letting you go unceremoniously as you shriek. But just as your toes make contact with the water’s cool surface he’s got you back in his arms again, helping you wrap your legs around his waist as he hoists you back up. You’re clutching on the collar of his dress shirt with a death grip, all while he laughs at your misfortune.

“I hate you,” you huff into his shoulder.

“No you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. If I had to drive back home in a wet polyester dress you would have never heard the end of it.”

“Aw, I should have let you fall then,” Eren remarks, turning so he can meet your gaze. “Would have killed to see this little number turn see through.”

“Pervert.”

“Mmm, but I’m your pervert.” He rests his head on top of yours, the both of you taking in the way the moon hangs in the night sky and the slightly salty breeze coming from the water. It’s rare to get a mundane moment with him, but even those are ones you cherish, the peace a respite from the antics of a fire sign.

He carries you out of the water after a while, insisting that it would be ungentlemanly of him to make you walk.

“Eren, we’re here you can let me go now, you know,” you say, trying to squirm out of his grasp as he fishes for the keys. It's futile, and he soon ends up tossing you inside into the backseat, sliding in quickly after you and slamming the car door shut. Large hands find their way to your waist so he can pull you back on his lap, your own shooting forward to stabilize yourself on his shoulders. He’s looking at you with half lidded eyes, moving to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck.

“When’d you get this dress?” he hums, pressing open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat as he plays with the hem. “It’s pretty.”

Your breath hitches as he makes his descent, fingers tightening in the loose hair that hangs out of his bun when he starts to suck at the junction between your neck and collarbones. “Halloween, two years ago I think.” It comes out airy, your thoughts already starting to go cloudy as Eren’s fingertips dance up your thighs.

“Oh yeah? Who were you going as, princess? An angel?”

“Marilyn - oh - Monroe.”

“You’re prettier than she is,” he remarks, moving away from your throat to lick the shell of your ear. You moan in response, cupping his jaw so you can finally slot your lips against his hungrily. You can feel Eren’s cock strain against his slacks as he ruts against the growing wet spot in your panties, but when he breaks away for air the reality of your surroundings dawns on you.

“We can’t Eren,” you say breathlessly, pushing him back. “We shouldn’t, not here, the curfew, let’s go back.”

“Are you sure you can wait till we go back?” He asks mockingly, pulling up at the sides of your panties to catch your clit against the fabric, the friction eliciting a small gasp from you.

“Y-yes,” you lie, knowing full well he’d just continue on to see your resolve crumble.

“Doesn’t feel that way to me,” he notes, pushing the blue lace to the side to run a finger through your folds. “You’re just so wet,” he slid the digit in your pussy with ease, as if to emphasize his point. “Come on, princess,” he continues, adding another finger as you whimper. “There’s no one here, I promise. We’ll be quick, why block the flow of the day? A backseat fuck at the beach? Its the perfect end, honestly.” He’s curling his fingers to strike that spongy spot as he makes his case, thumb rolling lazy circles over your clit till all rational thought is out the window as you just want more, and you grab his wrist to stop him so you can muster the strength to respond.

“You’ll be the death of me yet, Eren Jaeger.” you groan, unclasping his belt buckle and pushing his pants and boxers briefs down swiftly to free his erection. You rise on shaky knees to line yourself up with his cock, Eren tapping the weeping head on your clit before positioning himself. He takes a moment to put the hem of your dress in your mouth before guiding you down, moaning as he watches your drooling cunt swallow him inch by inch.

Your nails are leaving crescent marks on his shoulder blades as you sink down, whining as you relish being stretched out over him till you’re filled to the hilt, causing Eren to throw his head back with a throaty “fuck” as your walls flutter around his length. He cups your jaw to make you look up at him, his green irises swallowed by black pupils, chocolate tendrils from his manbun loose across his face. He runs his thumb over your bottom lip to release the fabric before claiming your mouth to swallow your moans as you start bouncing on his lap.

The sedan is rocking in tune to the lewd squelching noises of your hips joining together, your chanting of Ren!Ren!Ren! adding to the cacophony you two were creating when you separated from the kiss. Your pace becomes sloppier as you feel your orgasm build, Eren sensing it too, hissing with the way you start to clench around him.

“You close, baby?” he grunts, thrusting up into you. He laughs you nod and slur an mmphmm back at him. “Look at you,” he coos, “You said you didn’t want to do this here and now you’re going stupid on my dick, hmm? Maybe I should just stop now.” He slows his pace down to show he’s serious, and you’re begging for him to continue. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it slowly under the calloused pad as he watches your eyes roll back.

“You’ll be good for me then, right? To make up for what you said earlier? You’ll be my good girl and cum all over my cock?”

You’re nodding furiously, babbling in agreement and Eren tightens the roll of his thumb till you’re seeing stars beneath your shut eyelids as you come apart. He’s saying your name like a prayer as you clamp down on him, grabbing your waist and moving you up and down like a ragdoll until he paints your insides white. His head comes to rest on your shoulder as you both catch your breaths, your panting fogging up the windows even further.

“See? I knew we would be absolutely —,” his reassurance gets cut short with a sharp rap against the glass, the both of you jolting up in response.

“Idiot!” you snap, hitting his chest. “I told you this would happen, we should have gone home.” You try to get off of him to face the impending embarrassment, but he tightens his grip on you, keeping you connected.

“He’s going to want to talk to the both of us, baby, stay put.”

“Eren, he doesn’t have to talk to us when you’re still inside of me.”

“Will you please roll the window down?”  The voice calls out, clearly exasperated.

“You heard the man,” Eren shrugs, rolling down the window to greet the man outside with a toothy smile. “Evening, officer!” He calls out as you sink into his chest, hoping his rib cage would just open up and allow you to disappear.

“Sir, you do realize there’s a curfew for loitering on the beach in place? Not to mention laws against public indecency?”

“My apologies, Officer Hannes. This one is all on me, I got carried away with the occasion.” Eren holds up his left hand to show off the silver band you had put on his ring finger in city hall no less than 12 hours ago.

“I guess no matter how young your marriage is it's never a bad idea to heed your wife’s advice.”

thank you for reading!! please dont recommend this on tiktok.

© all rights reserved JEANBEAUX 2021. please do not copy, modify or repost my work.