#that is the title that is currently keeping me awake at night

[diteach]

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I HAVE BEEN SUBJUGATED BY THE CHARMS OF ANOTHER NICHE MANGA THAT WAS NEVER EVEN TRANSLATED IN MY OWN LANGUAGE

[dontsh0vethesun]

cigarettes out the window

masterlist

emily prentiss x reader

18+: smoking, alcohol, smut; semi public sex, fingering, lotta kissing and biting, wine is passed from mouth to mouth :)

a/n: title from ‘cigarettes out the window’ by tv girl | word count: 1.7k

The hunt for Gold Star had left little room for relaxation. With both of you working overtime, your shared apartment with Emily currently housed two members of the FBI with heightened blood pressure and an elderly black cat who pestered you for food every chance he got. 

Your jaw ached from the clenching of your teeth you can seldom seem to stop and you stared at the ceiling while Emily caught a few hours of sleep. You slipped out from beneath the duvet without her stirring, holding your breath until you were sure you’d reached the doorway without her waking. 

With a quick glance in her direction, you made your way to the hidden packet of cigarettes you were sure she would’ve found by now, balancing the unlit stick between your lips as you poured a hefty glass of merlot. You kept the padding of your feet as quiet as possible as you tipped a handful of kibble into Sergio’s bowl, scratching him behind the ear as he purred before you stepped out onto the balcony. 

Every movement you made was calculated, keeping yourself as silent as possible before the hiss of gas filled the quiet of the night air; the spark of your lighter accompanied the distant hum of car engines and with your first inhale you could finally ease some of the tension built up in your shoulders. It was a vice you wish you didn’t have but in times like these you find yourself in dire need of a crutch to hold you up. 

Your arms rested on the metal fencing as you peered over the edge, watching the gentle breeze knock at the branches and the empty streets below. The bitter swig of wine burned your throat, and you made a mental note to buy a different brand the next time you went grocery shopping. You let your mind drift to nothing in particular, letting yourself sink into the silence until you heard the telltale creak of the sliding door behind you - you didn’t think twice before you flicked the half-finished cigarette to the ground below, blowing out the mouthful of smoke before you turned around. 

“Shit, I thought I hadn’t woken you,” you spoke, quickly spinning to face your only half-awake girlfriend. She’d lazily pulled her robe around her underwear-clad body and brushed a strand of her mussed-up hair behind her ear. 

“You didn’t, don’t worry,” she smiled. “I woke up for a glass of water and saw you’d gone,” she added - you almost missed her lie. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you returned through a sigh. “I guess neither of us can at the moment.” 

She hummed in agreement, but the way she eyed you let you know she wasn’t oblivious to what you’d been doing. 

“I thought you’d quit.”

“I have; I just needed fresh air,” you shoddily fibbed, only earning a raised eyebrow in response. “I thought you’d quit,” you added teasingly. 

“I have.”

“So, what’s that in your hand?”

“What? Oh- these are yours,” she mumbled with a glance at the box in her grasp. “I found them in the dresser.” 

“Emily Prentiss, are you telling lies?” you teased her with a laugh. 

“Wha- no. No, I’m not.” She shook her head so profusely that even without any knowledge of profiling, a person could read her from a mile away. 

“We both know that’s not my brand, Em,” you pointed out. “And, hiding them in the dresser? I thought you’d give me a little more credit than that.” 

“Okay, fine,” she laughed with a playful roll of her eyes, finally coming to stand beside you with the small of her back pressed against the railings. “I guess we’ve both got filthy habits.” 

She peered at you through her lashes as she spoke, bending her head with the last of her words uttered around the butt of a cigarette; your hands sheltered it from the whisper of wind as the flame licked the end with a crackle at her first inhale only so audible because of the palpable quiet passing between you. 

You took a sip from your glass as she let smoke pass from the corner of her lips. 

“It’s nice to have a quiet moment with you,” she breathed, pushing the end of the cigarette between your lips. “It’s been a long week.” You hummed with an agreeing nod. 

“And it’s only the beginning,” you sighed.

“It’s made me think,” Emily began, plucking the glass from your hand to take a sip for herself. “That we should make the most of any moment alone we have at the moment.” 

Her free hand didn’t shy away from tracing a finger along your thigh, nudging the t-shirt you were wearing upwards to brush her touch against your hip. She took in the view of your face, cheeks blanketed by the yellowed glow of the moon, a small plume of smoke passing from your lips into the twilight sky and she couldn’t help but lean in closer. 

Your head tilted backwards as her lips ghosted the skin of your neck, giving ample access for the kiss she aches to place there. She could practically feel the thrumming of your pulse beneath her tongue, revelling in the salty-sweet taste of your skin with a gentle scrape of her teeth. 

She felt the movement of your neck as you took a drag of the cigarette, hearing you exhale shakily above her. She was nothing less than ravenous in her assault, nipping at the skin beneath your ear to lay her claim, taking hold of your waist just as harshly. She only pulled away to catch her breath, observing you with plump red lips and pupils blown to match. 

“Don’t hog that,” you teasingly pouted as she took another swig from the glass, only tutting when she took another with a smirk. Wordlessly, she nudged at your chin, hovering over you with her mouth full of wine and her eyes of something just as fruitful. With just a pointed crook of her brow, you knew to slacken your jaw to allow the earthy merlot to pass from her lips to yours, swallowing it down obediently. 

The smile of satisfaction did nothing to quell the needy ache you pooled with; your body practically hummed with need beneath her unwavering gaze. She's sure she could take in the sight for eternity. She placed the glass aside to take what was left of the cigarette between her fingers, balancing the filtered end between her lips while the palms of her hands set your hips on fire. 

Your own touch crept beneath her robe, soft and pliable skin warm and peppered with goosebumps. You couldn’t keep your kiss away from her chest, scattering pecks along her collarbone with your hands desperately kneading her breasts through the lace bra that got in your way. She hummed in pleasure, pulling you hopelessly nearer with her nails scraping the flesh of your thighs, grabbing and groping with her mind settled on taking any hold of you she could. 

Emily’s fingertips nudged at the waistband of your underwear, and though your hands tangled themselves within the salt and pepper tresses of her hair and your face nestled in the crook of her neck, she heard the desperate mewl and felt the twitch of your hips to urge on her movements. 

When she slid a finger through your folds, you finally pulled away to breathe - to take in the sight of your lover with the end of a cigarette lazily hanging from her lips and her hair mussed from your touch. Her free hand pulled it from her mouth with a final exhale of smoke, flicking the butt over the balcony without taking her focus from the digits she pushed into you. 

And, though your lips melded together with the bitter tastes of smoke and wine, it couldn’t be any sweeter. Her tongue fought against yours and her thumb drew circles over your clit, fingers curling within you whilst your hips chased the feeling with aimless rutting against her hand. 

“God, I needed this,” Emily breathed. “I needed you - just feeling you like this is all I ever need.”

You met her eyes with yours with words on the tip of your tongue, sentiments to match hers that fell short with the way she made you feel, digits moving with precise choreography - she only smirked at the way she can make you fall apart so easily. She had you trapped between her own body and the railing behind you, but the pain of metal against your back was washed away by the pleasure of impending release.

You kept your mouth against her jaw, sinking your teeth into her neck to quell the sounds she pulled from you. Though Emily may want to hear how she affects you, you would rather not wake up the entire street with the gasps and moans that threatened to spill into the quiet night. She kept up the rhythmic pace of her fingers pumping into your cunt, feeling the slick of your arousal against her skin and the way you clenched around her with the pleasure pulsing through you. 

“C’mon, baby, let go,” she rasped, feeling you teeter on the edge of climax before she pulled you to topple over. She hissed at the way you muffled your moan with a bite to her neck, but with your release, the both of you felt the stress of the week begin to melt away. 

She slipped her digits away from you once she’d ridden you through the high, sucking them clean of every drop as though it were her lifeline. Your heart thumped against your chest and you held your body up with your arms looped over her shoulders; you could hardly trust your legs to keep you upright. 

“Fuck, Emily,” you breathed through a laugh, one that she mirrored with her lust-blown eyes focused on you. 

“I’m that good, huh?” she cockily teased, chuckling at the playful shove you planted against her chest. 

“Come on,” you grinned, taking her by the hand to pull her behind you back into the apartment. 

“Where’re you taking me?”

“To bed,” you stated, turning to face her with your hands on her waist as you let her guide you backwards. You couldn’t keep away from her - you never can - but right now she’s all you could ever need. “I want you. But don’t expect us to get much sleep.”

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hey there! i never actually planned on writing a sequel to ‘9 pm’ but a few anons asked about it and i liked the idea of giving them some happiness following that fic! the perfect title gave me the idea for the fic and here we are ☺️ i hope you guys enjoy!!

word count: 2.8k

tw: brief and minor mention of a miscarriage, pregnancy

direct sequel to 9 p.m. in vancouver

summary: andrei’s off on a road trip and you’re more exhausted than normal. once you realize why, you have to call andrei immediately

It’s barely ten at night and you’re falling asleep on the couch, Friends rerun playing at a low volume on the TV. Your blinks get longer, eyelids heavy, while Joey yells about the Coast Guard.

A yawn creaks at your jaw and you try to blink away some of the sudden exhaustion in your body. It doesn’t really work, another yawn catching you a few minutes later. You wrap your arms around one of the throw pillows, cheek smashed up against the pillow tucked under your head.

It’s been a long few days, work overwhelming you and Andrei up in the tri-state area for a mini road trip. The Canes had lost to the Flyers before beating the Devils. They’re currently up two goals on the Rangers, according to your NHL app updates, with just a few minutes left in the third.

The team will spend the night in the city before heading to Long Island for the second half of a back to back tomorrow.

It’s a grueling schedule so early in the season, four games in six days, and you know Andrei will be exhausted when he gets home on Monday morning. At least they’re off for two days before hitting the ice for a home game on Wednesday. You yawn again and decide vaguely that maybe you’ll go to the game, if you can keep your eyes open. It’s been a while since you went to the arena and you miss watching Andrei play live.

You can’t help but think briefly about the game in Vancouver last November, almost a year ago now, and your hand drifts to your stomach.

The baby would’ve been four months old, probably keeping you wide awake right now.

You don’t really think about the loss as much anymore, you can go long stretches of time without thinking about him - because you’d decided that it was a boy, even though it was too early to ever tell. Your due date had come around at the end of July and Andrei had spirited you out of the country, the both of you quiet and moody for a few days.

And then training camp had started and you’d gotten busy with work and then the season started and you didn’t dwell on the loss for a while.

But now it’s late and you’re tired and you haven’t seen Andrei in a few days and you should be cuddling a baby right now.

A few tears trickle down your temple and you swipe at them, emotion clogging your throat.

“God, get a grip,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head slightly. It’s not even like you’re on your period to be so hormonal right now. Your brain takes a second to process the thought and when it does, your eyes widen and you kick your legs out, struggling with the blanket to try and sit up.

“Oh, oh my god,” you scramble for your phone, tossing blankets around until you hear the tell-tale thunk of the phone hitting the floor. You lunge for it, the TV remote going flying, but you barely pay attention to that as your fingers wrap around the loop on the back of your phone case and snatch it off the floor.

Your hands shake violently as you unlock your phone and thumb over to find your period tracker app. The app takes seconds to load, seconds where your heart beats wildly and your vision goes a little blurry. You mutter, “come on, faster, faster,” under your breath and suddenly the screen loads and there in the center of the screen, in bold font, is the notice that your period has been late for more than thirty days.

You’ve missed two periods.

Without even realizing it.

To be fair to yourself, after the miscarriage, everything was thrown off and you’ve only had seven or eight periods in the past year. So it’s not totally crazy that you didn’t realize you missed two cycles.

Your stomach lurches a little bit and you chew at your lower lip. You probably should take a test. But do you want to know without Andrei, again?

It didn’t work out so well last time.

You’re probably not even pregnant, you rationalize, it’s the stress of a new season starting and your body getting back to normal.

Never mind the fact that you’ve long been cleared to get pregnant again and your gynaecologist hadn’t said anything was wrong at your last appointment.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, nearly scaring the shit out of you. It’s just a notification from the NHL app - sometime in the last few minutes, while you’d been spiralling, the Rangers had tied the game and it was going to overtime.

Overtime anxiety is better than maybe-pregnant anxiety, so you tune into Bally, the sudden brightness of the glare off the ice making you blink. You’re half-heartedly paying attention, fingers tapping against your thigh while the players zip up and down the ice, trading scoring chances. Andrei’s on the ice for a shift and then he’s back on the bench. Pyotr makes a save and then another and then he doesn’t.

You frown at the TV, watching Andrei and the guys file off the ice, miserable for the team’s loss. You change the channel back to Nick at Nite, not interested in seeing the post-game analysis of the loss.

The audience laughter from the show echoes around the living room and you chew at your lower lip anxiously. Andrei won’t be back to his hotel room for hours, the post-game process already underway, but between media, a shower, and the travel. Well, it’ll be at least close to midnight before you can talk to him.

He’ll reassure you that you’re overthinking, that it’s nothing. But a quiet part of your brain is insistent that you’re pregnant and it just won’t shut up.

The smartest thing would be to take a test, find out once and for all if you’re even going to mention anything to Andrei. You’re pretty sure there’s no tests left after last time and if there are, they’re probably expired.

Your fingers tap at the screen of your phone almost by memory, the Google search showing that there’s a twenty-four hour CVS just a ten minute drive away.

The episode ends and another begins while you sit on that information, giving yourself a moment to imagine what you’ll do if the test is positive. He has to know immediately this time, you don’t think you’d be able to wait.

“Oh fuck it,” you mutter to yourself, pushing the blankets off your legs and getting up from the couch. Your vision goes fuzzy, briefly, the blood rushing from your head. You blink and everything shifts back into focus, your heart hammering a little.

Before you can overthink it, you turn off the TV and head for the front door, making a stop at the front hall closet to grab a jacket. Your fingers close around the sleeve of one of Andrei’s, the jacket dwarfing your frame as you slip your arms into the sleeves. You shove your feet into a ratty pair of Uggs and drop a faded Canes ball cap on your head.

You look insane, more like a college kid doing a walk of shame than a married woman, but Andrei’s scent embedded deep into the collar of his jacket is comforting you.

At CVS, you grab at the pregnancy test boxes like a woman possessed - Clear Blue, First Response, and the CVS generic brand all go into your basket, along with a bag of pumpkin shaped Reese’s Cups and a pack of Twizzlers. Something about the waxy, artificial strawberry ropes seems appealing right now.

Thank God for self-checkout, you don’t think you can face another person right now.

The pregnancy tests feel like they weigh a million pounds in the plastic bag and you gnaw anxiously on a Twizzler as you drive back home.

It’s well after midnight by the time you manage to drink enough water in order to pee on all the sticks and this round is more anxiety producing than when you’d done it over a year ago. Once you’re done, you set the timer on your phone and flip each stick over on the counter, so you can’t see the displays.

Instead of waiting in the bathroom, which is feeling small and stuffy despite how large it actually is, you pace around your bedroom for the few minutes it takes for your timer to count down. You wonder if you could call Andrei now, be on the phone with him when you look at the display, but if you’re not pregnant and he’s on the phone, he’ll be disappointed right before the next set of games. He’s been talking about it a little more lately, in the abstract, how nice it’ll be to have a baby one day. And you maybe haven’t been as enthusiastic as he’s been, so you don’t want to get his hopes up.

If you’re not pregnant, Andrei doesn’t need to know that you worried yourself into a tizzy over nothing.

But if you are? Well, Andrei will be the first call anyway.

The timer goes off on your phone and the sudden, shrill noise makes you jump. Your stomach lurches and you flatten your palm over it. Underneath the anxiety, there’s a little bubble of excitement growing, the thought of a baby providing a little spark of joy.

You wander back into the bathroom and close your eyes before flipping the tests over with shaking hands.

The plastic clatters against the countertop and you squint one eye open and then the other, vision focusing on the little displays.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes immediately filling with tears, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

All three are positive, the little Clear Blue display declaring you ‘Pregnant’ in tiny letters.

Tears slip down your cheeks and you start giggling wildly, overwhelmed in the best possible way. Your hands press on your stomach, palms flat and fingers splayed.

“Hey there, baby,” you murmur, looking down. “Stay safe in there, okay? We want to meet you.”

The tears fall faster and you wipe at them with your shoulder, a damp splotch forming on the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s so late, but you need to tell Andrei, and you move on autopilot, climbing onto your bed and finding your phone among the messy covers - the bed hasn’t been made in two days because Andrei is more of a stickler for that than you are and you like to get right back into the nest of blankets at the end of the day. It’s on your list of things to do before he’s back in a few days. Now, you pile yourself into a little cocoon of the blankets and comforters, warm and happy.

You text him first, just a quick ‘you awake?’ that you know he’s going to read as a request for phone sex.

True enough, your phone vibrates in your hand a few seconds later, Andrei’s name at the top of the screen. You grin and slide the bar to answer, “hey there.”

“Is late,” he replies, a faint laugh in his tone. “Thought you would be sleeping.”

“No,” you giggle, feeling a little unhinged. “Not asleep. Couldn’t sleep. Um, are you alone?”

Your husband laughs fully now, the sound echoing over the line. “Solnyshka, been a long day. I love you, but we have early morning,” he teases and the rumble of his voice makes you smile.

“No, not for that you perv,” you shoot back, twisting your fingers in a loose thread. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You know you’re sounding vague and strange, but to his credit, Andrei doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he’s quiet for a second before your phone vibrates against your ear, signalling an incoming text. You pull the phone from your ear and tap over to your messages, laughing when you see the picture Andrei just sent.

The hotel room is nearly pitch black, but you can still make out the shape of Martin Nečas passed out in his bed with what looks like an eye mask covering his face. Andrei’s grinning face is cut off in the corner of the picture.

“Guess that’s a yes then,” you smile, bringing the phone back to your ear.

“Neci has earplugs in too,” Andrei informs you. “Says I snore, which is lie.”

It’s not, but you don’t feel like relitigating that particular point with him right now. So you move on.

“I know I should’ve waited, done something cute, but I’m bursting,” you let the words come out in a rush, feeling lightheaded with excitement. “I couldn’t, I had to tell you right away, Drei, baby, I’m pregnant.”

Andrei’s silent on the other end and a slightly manic laugh bubbles out of your mouth while you wait for him to say something.

“Pregnant?” He repeats, sounding like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach - winded and hoarse. “Like, with baby?”

“Yeah, mhm,” you hum, just letting the news soak in. Andrei’s breathing is audible in your ear, a soft ‘huh’ puffing out.

He starts to laugh and you can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “oh, solnyshka, fuck, I’m… ya chertovski schastliv.”

He slips into Russian and you’re not totally familiar with the words, but he repeats them in English, “I’m so fucking happy. Are you okay? How you feel?”

“I’m okay, I was feeling a little tired earlier,” you say. “That’s kind of why I took the test, just to see.”

Without asking, Andrei switches the call to a FaceTime and you pull the phone back, his grinning face taking up the entire screen. He looks lighter and happier than he has in months and the sight of him, of that smile that you love so much, makes you emotional.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he shakes his head, still smiling. “Hold you, something other than smile like idiot on phone.”

“I’m just happy to see your smile,” you say truthfully. A hug wouldn’t be unwelcome, but just seeing Andrei’s face has you calmer. “It’s late,” you continue, catching sight of the time in the top left corner of your phone - nearly 1:30 in the morning. “You should get some sleep.”

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now and you slump back against the pillows and headboard.

Andrei nods. “Call me when you get up,” he requests, phone bouncing slightly as he shifts on the bed. “We leave early, but call any time, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, pressing your lips together to smother a yawn. “Hey, I love you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Andrei replies in Russian, warm and awed. “You and baby, both.”

You’re both quiet for a bit, comfortable and sleepy, reluctant to end the call. You just want to enjoy his long-distance presence and this little bubble, but eventually Martin lets out a snore on his side of the room, startling you since you forgot he was there. Andrei laughs faintly and reluctantly ends the call, after telling you he loves you again.

Now that Andrei knows, your whole body relaxes and you sink happily into the nest of blankets and pillows, curled up in a c-shape, one hand on your stomach.

There’s a million things to figure out in the coming days, weeks, and months, a million worries to ruminate on, but for now, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and pure happiness bubbling in your stomach.

The next morning, you snooze your alarm and allow yourself to wake up slowly and lazily. It’s an easy morning and you don’t plan on getting out of bed until you hear the doorbell ring.

With a grumble, you climb out of bed and shove your feet into a pair of slippers to pad downstairs, wondering who could be at the door this early.

It’s a delivery man, half-hidden behind a huge bouquet of flowers. You accept it, surprised at the delivery but not at the sender.

The oversized bouquet made up of baby roses, baby’s breath, and a few other types all in various shades of baby pink and baby blue can only be from your husband. Your face hurts from the size of your smile and you dig out the little card from between a pale pinks rose and a light blue hydrangea.

‘I love you, we will celebrate as soon as I am home. A hug and a kiss from New York for you, mama. -A’

It’s not Andrei’s handwriting, but you trace your fingers over the letters and feel tears well up. Any concerns or worries you might have about having a baby are pushed aside.

Andrei’s going to be the best dad and you’re so lucky to be doing this with him.

[kopilot-pop]

[New Jeans x Oldest Member! Reader] - #1

-imagine.

Summary: You’re the oldest member in NJ. With that title comes alot of responsibilities, from being the support beam for your (not so official) leader to protecting your maknae from rude interviewers. (This is just a bunch of moments of a very protective/warm Y/n.)

Warnings: sickness, fighting(?), protectiveness, cursing, rude people, etc.

A/N: Hey, it’s been a while. So sorry for disappearing for like… 20 days..? I’m back with another NJ fic because alot of people liked the bodyguard one haha. It’s mostly platonic love from Y/n btw. Oh, and lil background info; Y/n's is a 03(a year older than Hanni/Minji) and used to be a dancer before being casted by Hybe.

———————————————————————

#1

“What do you mean she has to come?!”

‘Oh god..’

Minji is furious to say the least.

You’re currently holding a sick Haerin in your arms, rocking her back and forth. The poor girl has been feeling off for a few days at this point and on the day of an important performance, her fever had become unbearable.

Last night, Minji woke up to Haerin crying in pain and woke you up in a panic. Since then, 3 hours has passed and the girl’s fever doesn’t seem to want to go down. Minji quickly went to call the manager to adjust the schedule while you decided to keep watch on Haerin.

“She can’t even stand straight oppa! You seriously can’t expect her to-”

“Listen Minji. This is an important schedule and the producers aren’t gonna be happy if the whole team doesn’t show up. As much as I want to help, it’s just not possible!”

“Ugh!”

Due to all the yelling, the younger girl stirred awake. She stayed quiet, but it was clear to you that she was listening to the conversation.

“Unnie-”

“No. You’re not going to the festival.” You cut her off before she could say anything.

“I.. I can go..! It’s fi-” Haerin fell back into your arms in a coughing fit. After a stern look from you, she finally sighed and snuggled into your chest. Soon after Minji came in - grumbling in frustration.

“I can’t believe him! He-“

“Hey, sweetie, calm down first.” You put Haerin back down on her bed, tucking her in.

“How do you expect me to be calm?! They’re forcing Haerin to perform in this condition! To make things worse, the performance is in the morning, the weather forecast even says it could rain, and, and-” Haerin sat up in the bed, covering herself in the thick blankets. Her wide eyes looked back and forward you and Minji worriedly.

“WOAH, woah, Min, you need to calm down. You’re stressing out Haerin here.”

“Speaking of Haerin- you! Why would you hide the fact that you were sick?! If you told us sooner we could’ve-”

“Kim Minji.”

The moment you saw Haerin’s eyes become watery you decided to shut everything down. Minji, realising her mistake, immediately stopped talking and looked away. You decided to grab her arm and pull her out of the room to talk.

After a few moments of silence, she decided to talk.

“Unnie… I’m sorry…”

“You don’t need to be sorry to me. Minji. I know you’re stressed out from all the schedules and practices, and I understand you’re just worried for Haerin. However, that doesn’t mean you can let your frustrations out onto your members.”

“…”

“I know you’re just trying your best and I really appreciate it, but you need to calm down.”

“I just… I’m just worried….” The shorter girl slowly came up to you. You hold her in a tight hug as she sobs quietly into your shoulder.

“Hey, I know, it’s gonna be okay. I’ll give the producers a call, okay? Go get some sleep with Haerin.”

“Mmph..” You wipe away her tears with your sleeve and give her a smile. Minji decides to give you a final hug and go back to her shared room with Haerin.

———————————————————————

#2

“Nope.”

“Y/N!!”

You’re currently in a tiny meeting with the producer of a well known music show. Since you’ve been in the entertainment business for a while, you recognized alot of their faces - including the fuming man you’ve been arguing with for about 20 minutes now.

“Hyein’s 15. I’m not letting you put her in that and that’s final.”

“It’s just a damn skirt-”

“Nope.”

“The fans would want-”

“Nope.”

“We’ve had other idols-“

“Nope.”

“For gods sake! This isn’t about you! The stylists already prepared everything and we aren’t going to change things just because YOU think ‘the skirt’s too short’.”

This whole debacle started with a slight comment from Hyein. She’s preparing for a solo special stage on Music Bank, and you decided to tag along for support..

(1 Hour Ago)

“Hey! You really came!!”

Hyein - in her tall glory - came running towards you, capturing you in a tight hug.

“Oof- Hey bub, good to see you too.”

You give her a slight pat on her head, holding her tightly to your body.

“Hehe, oh-! Have you seen my makeup for today?! It’s really pretty, with jewels, and…”

You watched as the younger girl went on and on about her excitement. It was her first ever stage alone, and you knew the amount of practice and effort she put on just for this moment.

“- and, and the jacket! It’s pink and so cute! Everything’s amazing - well, there is the skirt - but the dancers are just amazing!!”

“Whoah- what? What about the skirt?”

(1 Hour Later)

So you’re now in the waiting room, arguing, while Hyein is practicing in a different room with dancers.

You are extremely protective over your members, and everybody in the building probably knew that. A video of you almost physically fighting with a rude staff (that decided it was okay to threaten Hanni) went viral in the past, so the staffs were looking between you and the producer nervously.

It didn’t help that your face was gradually becoming more sour as the man went on about ‘pleasing the crowd’.

“What do you mean this isn’t about me? That’s your excuse? Hyein’s my teammate, she’s our maknae, and you’re trying to put her in and outfit she’s clearly uncomfortable in - for what? To appeal to disgusting perverts sitting in the crowd just waiting for a wardrobe malfunction?!”

“Of course n-”

“Listen. I’m not telling you to completely change everything in the crowd, all I’m telling you, is to let our stylist change the skirt to the pants she already prepared just in case. I genuinely don't see a single problem with that."

"I-.."

"Unless you're one of the 'perverts in the crowd'."

"How dare y-!"

"I'll take that as a no."

You quickly pushed past the fumbling man - bowing to the stressed staff members - and let out a deep sigh to calm yourself.

You promised to help Hyein rehearse after all.

———————————————————————

#3

There is no doubt in your mind that Danielle is one of the sweetest human beings in the world - and you hate it.

Not that you hate Danielle, god no, it's just that you absolutely hate the people around her that try to take advantage of her sweet personality.

Thankfully, she has scary dog privileges (you).

"Um...haha.. really...?"

You were getting drinks for the group at the vending machine when you faintly heard the younger girls voice from the hallway. In your mind she was supposed to be with the makeup artist, so why was she here?

"Yes! I really, really like you Danielle!"

You dropped the drinks in your hands and sped to where the conversation was.

Near the bathroom you could see Dani gripping onto your jacket(she was cold), nervously smiling at another idol practically cornering her and... confessing his love..?

"I took a long time trying to build up the courage to ask you.. and I was hoping that maybe we could go on a date some time?"

"I'm really flattered... but.. um.."

You could tell she was uncomfortable. She was stuttering, trying her best to form a refusal, but you knew your Dani hated saying no - especially when she knew the other person would be heartbroken by it.

You hesitated choosing between stepping in and just watching until either Dani says something or the boy leaves, but that was all thrown out the window when he decided to grab her before she could back away.

"Hey."

The young boy visibly froze up at your deep voice.

He was tall for his age, but still alot shorter than you. He nervously turned around and the moment he saw your face he could tell you were not happy.

"Oh! Um hello su-"

"We need to prepare for the stage Dani. Come on."

You lightly slapped his arm way and pulled her into yours, quickly making your way to your group's waiting room.

As soon as the door shut, you were finally able to check on her.

"You okay? He didn't do anything did he?"

"I'm fine unnie! Thank you so much.. I just didn't know how to tell him I wasn't looking to date anyone... He's one of my new friends, and I didn't really want to lose him, and I didn't want him to feel bad - oh no! I just left him there! Oh, maybe I should go back-" The younger girl started to ramble her worries, making you slightly panic.

"Hey! It's okay! He's gonna be fine.. And Dani! You can't always say y-........ nevermind.." You sighed.

You definitely hate how her puppy eyes make you weak, too.

———————————————————————

#4

It's a casual day off at the New Jeans house.

Just like any other break day, you decided to take a long nap on the couch. Quiet, peaceful, and not a single soul wanting to bother y-

"Nevermind..." You sighed.

That thought was shattered into pieces when you woke up on the couch with Hanni on top of you.

You have a warm body in general and all the girls usually used you like a heater whenever they were cold, huddling into you like baby penguins surrounding their mother.

That included cuddling into your arms whenever they caught you taking a nap on the couch.

So when you stirred awake, you weren't surprised to find Hanni (Y/n Heater's #1 fan) lying on top of you, spread like a flying squirrel.

'Ah, who cares.'

You decided to just go back to sleep, right hand holding the younger steady just in case she falls like last time.

-

You woke back up abut 30 minutes later to find that your chest has gotten heavier.

You tiredly opened one eye to see that another body - Hyein - has been added to your napping form. You were honestly used to this by now, and decided go back to sleep - already expecting at least one more addition to the pile when you wake back up.

-

"Unnie..."

'There it is.'

20 minutes later, you woke back up to the sound of a soft voice calling for you.

You lazily opened your eyes to see Danielle standing next to you awkwardly.

"Hmm? Need somethin' sunshine?"

"...Can I join..?"

You stared at her in disbelief before letting out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah sure, might be a tight squeeze though- oof!"

The moment you approved she rammed into your side, squeezing next to Hanni. She was slightly hanging off the edge, so in a second you held on tight to her arms - just in case.

You let out content sigh while falling back asleep.

-

It was 4 hours after you started you nap when you awoke for the 4th time.

You opened your eyes to see two lumps on the floor next to the couch. Minji was awake, watching the TV on a low volume, while Haerin was lying on the floor with her head in Minji's lap - lightly snoring.

"She's practically purring, huh?"

Minji - slightly jumped by your voice - let out a quiet laugh.

"Yeah, she seemed tired."

"Hmm... aren't you?"

"I just enjoy seeing you guys like this."

"This? This is basically going to the gym. Have you ever carried 3 bodies on your chest?"

She let out a giggle.

"No, but what I meant is that I enjoy seeing you guys happy like this."

"Hah."

"Don't laugh! I mean it."

She lightly leaned back for her head to rest on your shoulder.

"It's peaceful. And I love it."

———————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading. Love y'all <3

[steadysuitenthusiast]

This is my first ever fanfic that I’m posting! Please like, reblog, and leave comments telling me what you think! Currently only writing for SKZ. If you have any ideas, I’d be happy to write something if you send me an ask!

Tiny Traitor (shout out to @skzms for the title idea and for encouraging me to write this!! You’re the best <3)

Pairing: lee know x reader

Summary: Minho comes home to find you in bed with a replacement for him. But how can he be angry when he looks so much like him and you look so peaceful.

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Word count: 813

2:19am

Minho had told you he’d be late getting home tonight, but you hadn’t expected him to be this late. A glance at the clock on your bedside table had you heaving a sigh of defeat. You had spent the past 2 hours scrolling on your phone, trying to stay awake. Your eyes were hurting from staring at the screen for so long and you had to be up at 8 for work. Resigned to the fact that you wouldn’t be seeing Minho tonight, you sent him a text saying you loved him, locked your phone, grabbed your Leebit plushie that you kept hidden for nights you’re alone and missing Minho, and rolled over to fall asleep.

3:22am

Minho opened the front door to your shared apartment as quietly as he could, as he figured you were probably asleep by now. Taking off his shoes and hanging his jacket by the door, he silently padded his way to your shared bedroom to check on you before he washed up for the night. What he saw as he stepped into the room stopped him in his tracks and had his breath hitching in his throat. You were laying in the middle of the bed, your hair fanned out on the pillows framing your sleeping face and making you look angelic. You were wearing one of Minho’s shirts that you had confiscated from him months ago claiming you slept better wrapped in something that belonged to him, especially when he wasn’t with you. But the thing that made Minho tear up, was the little Leebit plushie cuddled in your arms the way that he should be, the way he craved to be. He hated being away from you, especially when he was so close. The late nights at the dance studio were taking away his time with you and it made his heart ache.

You stirred awake at the feeling of someone’s eyes on your sleeping form. “Min? You just getting home?” You murmured, your voice raspy with sleep.

“Hi my love. Yes, I’m sorry I woke you. Just wanted to check on you before I showered. Go back to sleep and I’ll be back soon, yeah?” Minho responded, softly stroking your hair and placing a kiss at your hairline.

“Mmkay” you mumbled before rolling over and trying to doze off again, but the knowledge that Minho was in the other room made you stay awake so you could see him, at least for a little while.

About 10 minutes later, the door to the bathroom opened and Minho stepped out with his hair still dripping with water from the shower. He looked at the bed and noticed you watching him. “I thought I told you to go back to sleep?” he questioned you softly.

“Couldn’t sleep. Wanted to see you” you state simply.

“Well in that case…” he pauses and narrows his eyes playfully at you. “You wanna tell me what you’re doing in bed with that tiny traitor?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion as you looked at him questioningly, unsure of what he was referring to. His eyes darted to the Leebit plushie still cradled in your arms then back to your own. You glanced down, almost forgetting you were holding it, and burst into laughter at the pout that had formed on your boyfriend’s face.

“Tiny traitor?? How could you call him that??” You said through your fit of laughter.

“Well he’s in my spot! He’s snuggling MY girl in MY bed!” Minho exclaimed looking a little defeated. You sobered at this and your eyes softened as you looked at your handsome, exhausted boyfriend.

“He keeps me company when you’re not here and I’m missing you. I usually only need him when you’re on tour and I can’t come with you, but I missed you a lot tonight. So I needed the extra snuggles.”

Minho crept towards the bed slowly, a small smile forming on his face as he came closer to you, “When did you even get him? I don’t remember ever seeing you with a SKZoo plushie” he said playfully.

“Technically I had him before I met you.” you responded shocking him slightly.

“I thought Felix was your bias before we met” he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Was??” you tease. He narrowed his eyes and started tickling your sides mercilessly. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!” You half yelled in an effort to make the tickle torture cease. “You’re my ultimate bias, even though you called Leebit a tiny traitor” you looked at Minho lovingly after he stopped his playful assault on your sides.

“I love you so much baby” he stated, voice barely above a whisper. He kissed your forehead before mumbling, “I’ll buy you all the tiny traitors you want if it helps you stop missing me.”

[freelancearsonist]

and they'd find us in a week

➔ Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader - 1.8k

➔ Javi whisks you away to Italy for your honeymoon. The only problem is, you're too busy exploring your new husband to leave your hotel room.

➔ Rated MA for basically just husband!javi fluffy cock-worship, oral (m receiving), handjobs, cum swallowing, lots of spanish pet names (reader is spanish speaking), no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied but no description of anatomy and no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

You’ve never woken up quite as languidly as you do today.

The first thing your senses are alerted to is the roaring crash of waves. Bright light floods your eyes even through your closed eyelids, and you roll over with a groan to press your face into the plush pillow beneath your head for a few more precious seconds of darkness. It smells of your favorite leave-in conditioner after your shower last night–a familiar scent in this otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Not that you can complain–this is the softest bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is cloud-like and the sheets are silky and warm… except on the other side of the bed. Those sheets are rumpled and turned back, cold with absence.

You sit up and rub the remaining dregs of sleep from your eyes, glancing around the sizable hotel room in search of your fiance–husband. You’re still getting used to that shift in title, but it’s a very welcome change.

The balcony door is open, which is why you can hear the waves so clearly. There’s a gentle breeze swirling in through the opening, fluttering the curtains and sending a slight chill down your spine despite how warm the morning already is. The air smells so fresh here–salt and water and everything you love about the beach. It’s spring, the season of rebirth, and things are changing. Leaves are returning, flowers are blooming, and you’re starting a new page in the story of your life with the man of your dreams.

The man of your dreams, who is currently nowhere to be found.

You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress with a groan of protest, still sore and shaky from yesterday–your third day of honeymoon bliss. Your suitcases still sit on the dresser across from the bed, zipped and neatly packed; you haven’t worn clothes in three wonderful, languid, pleasure-filled days. It’s been absolute bliss.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerts you to the fact that it was running in the first place–it was barely noticeable over the sound of the ocean outside the windows. You smile to yourself and lay back down against the pillows, the mission of finding your husband completed. 

Javi comes out of the bathroom moments later, wrapped in the most plush white robe you’ve ever seen while toweling his hair dry. And really, you’ve done nothing over the last three days except wet your sexual appetite–repeatedly and vigorously–with your husband. But seeing him like this makes you hungry; it drives a burning hot rod of arousal straight through the deepest, most unfathomable part of your gut. Your want over the past few days has been completely insatiable.

You look up at him—sleepy eyes half-lidded, wet hair slicked back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his perfect lips—and you are so, so in love with him. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” He says with a smile. “Do you want to order breakfast?”

You’re shaking your head before you can really stop yourself, because there’s only one thing that could quench your appetite right now and it’s standing right in front of you. “No, I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

His mouth opens to ask what you could possibly mean, but you catch his hand and pull him into a deep, languid kiss before he can say anything. It’s slow and syrupy, the morning bleeding into the action. You trace your tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth parts so eagerly to accept you. He’s become so familiar with your desires over the past few days, even after years together thinking he knew everything there was to know. But he keeps learning and adapting, finding new ways to draw little sounds and reactions from you. He’s nothing if not attentive to details and extremely eager to please.

He’s been doing a lot of pleasing over the past few days, though. He’s certainly earned a break and some appreciation, you think.

He lets out a little grunt when you gently push him into the mattress; his lips curl into a smile when you crawl over him to straddle his sturdy hips.

“Mi amor,” he mumbles, trying his best to lean up so he can keep kissing you despite your hands pinning his torso to the plush mattress. “Por favor–”

You lean down to appease him, lips feather-light against his as you whisper, “calmate, mi esposo. Yo cuidaré de ti.”

You can feel how quickly he hardens from your words even through the thick robe covering him and it sends a heady sense of power rushing through your veins. Your husband is a strong, important, powerful man–you’re the only person in the world who can bring him to his knees. He’ll even beg for it, if you ask. He’s putty in your hand, but you don’t take it for granted. You’re lucky and you know it–you’ll spend every day for the rest of your life thanking whatever deity there is for giving you Javi.

“Mi cielo,” he murmurs as your fingers find the tie of his plush white robe. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to, Javi,” you assure him as you slowly pull the knot apart. “Please?”

You can see the gulp that bobs his throat even as his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. “Okay,” he whispers.

You unpeel the robe like a wrapping around a candy, appreciating the sight in all of its decadence but desperate to dig in. 

He’s desperate for it, too. Aching and hard just from your kisses, thick and flushed with arousal. Every beautiful inch of him is ready and waiting for your attention, from the soft curls at his base to the weeping mushroom head of him. 

The first touch of your fingers against his length is electric–he nearly jolts from it. Your fingers are so light and soft, it’s more like a whispering breeze than an actual touch. That is, until you wrap him firmly in your hand, fingers barely long enough to completely circle him. He moans then–a shuddery, shaky, utterly wrecked sound not quite like anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Still sensitive?”

He nods wordlessly, and you can’t blame him really. All you’ve done since arriving in Italy is go at it like rabbits, and last night he actually came dry. He’s bound to be a bit overstimulated, the poor thing.

You halt your hand and meet his dark brown eyes when his head pops up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” He flushes a bit, surprised at his own desperation. “No, amor, por favor no pares.”

You can’t help the gentle laugh that flows from your lips–you love him like this. Stripped down, not just physically, but spiritually. Soul bared to you in a way that no one else has ever seen him. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable in your arms because you build him back up stronger every time.

You lower yourself to him and lick languidly, one large stroke of your tongue up the vast length of him. He shivers with the stimulation and lets out a groan, hands clenching into fists at his sides to will himself not to squirm. It’s so hard to sit still like this, though–just the barest touch of your tongue, and he’s already near the brink.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wills every cell in his body to not come.

Somehow, miraculously, it works–when you take his tip between your plush lips and swirl your tongue just right, he manages to hold it together. He lets loose a low grumble from deep in his chest, though, when your fingers dance down his stomach and over his hip to cradle his balls.

“Ay, dios mio…”

“Good?” You giggle when you ask, because you don’t really need him to answer. You can feel the way his thigh trembles beneath your free hand and see the way his chest hitches with shuddering breaths. His body is tuned like a fine guitar string to your skilled fingers–you know exactly the right chords to strum to get the sounds you want.

Your mouth presses deeper and deeper, the thick head of his hitting the back of your throat long before your nose finds those soft, soapy-smelling curls at the base.

“Ay, mi amor.” It’s more of a whimper than an actual spoken statement–high-pitched and needy. “Por favor…”

You pull off with a pop and let your hand take over with firm strokes that make him whimper. “Qué necesitas, mi cielo?”

“I need–” He gulps thickly, hips stuttering up into your grip, cock twitching as if in anticipation of your permission. “Need to come.”

You hum and lick slowly around his tip, dragging the flat of your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precum pooling steadily there. “Then come, darling.”

And Javi–ever only obedient to you–does exactly that. His body shakes with the force of it, beautiful damp sandy-brown curls splayed out against the pillows and broad hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he fills your mouth. 

You never get tired of the taste of him; he’s the perfect mix of salty and sweet and something wonderful that can only be described as Javi. The first drop that meets your tongue makes you crave more–you push as far as you can to take every following spurt that he pulses into your mouth.

You swallow around him–drawing a whine from his throat in the process–before pulling off to admire your handiwork. And surely you can call yourself an artist, because the fruits of your efforts are a masterpiece. He’s flushed red from the shoulders up, chest heaving as he slowly steadies his breath, mouth agape around moans that have finally ceased.

You kiss up his body as he comes down from the high, over the soft round of his stomach and up his flushed neck, finally coming to his parted lips. His eyes meet yours, and suddenly the entire world is spinning on its axis until it’s flipped onto its back–your back. He chuckles as he hovers over you, scattering kisses all over your face.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he hums contentedly. Like this, you can feel every inch of his skin pressed against every inch of yours, the open robe falling around the parameters of your bodies and caging you into a soft, feathery cocoon.

“Was that what you needed, my darling?”

“Everything I needed and more,” he tells you earnestly. His kisses start to stray off course–across your cheeks, then along your jaw, then down your neck. “May I return the favor?”

It’s a tantalizing offer, certainly; as much as you’re eager to finally leave this room and go explore Italy, it’s not looking like today is going to be the day.

“Por favor, mi esposo.”

And Javi, ever the faithful servant, is more than willing to oblige. Con gusto.

THE END

➔ Translations:

calmate - calm down yo cuidaré de ti - let me take care of you por favor no pares - please don't stop qué necesitas - what do you need? con gusto - with pleasure

➔ A/N: the title of this one is another hozier song (big surprise cece) - "in a week" is so beautiful, pls give it a listen :) thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for betaing this lil thing 🥺 thank you as well to the dieter bravo brainrot club for always enabling me <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

[niiine]

Before my request I want you to know that I really love your works! Now can you please live up to your title and write a tooth aching fluff for Wanderer and Xiao (and Kazuha if possible) where they don't want to let go of the reader but she really needs to go home?

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘

Character(s). Scaramouche, Xiao, Kaedehara Kazuha, Venti

Synopsis. There will be times where it's hard to breathe and the world is insufferable. On those nights, they need you to stay.

Fluff

Short Drabble (esp. on Kazuha's part)

Soft Anemo boys because that's what they are.

Toothaching fluff they said. Live up to my title they said. Aren't toothaches supposed to hurt? hmph😤 Kidding. Thank you for the request!

Scaramouche

You woke up with a deathly grip around your waist, caging your body and preventing you from any further movement aside of slight head turns. Noticing the now darkening skies, you slightly tap the arms hugging your form, earning a silent grunt from your lover. “Love, I need to go”.

“No.” You deadpanned at his response, not really entertained at how he easily dismissed your necessity. ”If my mother gets mad at me, I’m turning you in.” he nuzzles your nape and buried his face deeper, leading a sigh out of your lips.

“(y/n) you’re too loud.” You rolled your eyes, feeling a bit of panic touch your heart since you’d never really hear the end of it from your mother if you get home late again. Maneuvering your way around, you planted a kiss atop Scaramouche’s head, fingers swimming through his hair.

“I really need to go now” you whispered, careful not to disturb the comfortable silence that lingers in the room. Love and fondness vivid in your tone. “Stay the night”. You heard him say, his gentle digits dancing around the small of your back, signaling that the man is now fully awake.

“Please”

Your heart skipped a beat. Your boyfriend, Scaramouche, said please. You never knew that he was capable of uttering such word. But of course, such things are fleeting. Not even a minute has passed when the lad takes back what he said, gently, but oh so fast separate his body from yours— as if he’s not clinging to you for dear life a moment ago.

“Hah. Kidding. Stand up now and move before your mother decides to forbid you from going out again.” he huffs. Sitting up in the edge of the bed, his back facing you.

Your heart tugged a little. You know how he really feels. Sometimes his loneliness just became unbearable that he ended up reaching out to you, but then he’s scared of rejection that he rebutted the idea even before  your response.

You kneeled behind the darkhaired lad, taking him in the midst of your arms, hugging him from behind.

“Nah. It’s too late now. I can’t walk home alone” you breathed, and you feel his cheeks burn up.

“Fool. Of course, I’ll take you home”

“But I wanna stay” you peppered his neck with light kisses, and you feel his palms touching your arms, his demeanor softens a little as he rests against your touch. Because for real, rest only happens if you’re around.

“Fine, if you insist.”

You laughed at his words, tugging him so you can go back to bed. Your mom will understand.

“You just love me.”

“Shut up.

Xiao

The sunset peeks through he shades of leaves on the tree you’re currently sitting under. Your lover resting on your lap as you play with his hair, lean fingers soothing his whole body, almost lulling him to sleep.

“Love, I need to go.” You noticed how he stiffens a little, but there’s no verbal response as he keeps his eyes closed, indulging on your presence and touches.

“It’s getting dark” you’re face, adorned by the most gentle smile you could ever muster, contorts in amusement as the adeptus remains unbothered by your words. “I have to go home now”. The man stays still, trying, and vividly failing to fake his slumber.

With the response you’ve been wanting still nowhere to be found, you decided to call out his name, eager to gain any sort of response from the yaksha. “Adeptus Xiao”, you heard him grunt, and a fit of cute giggle escaped your lips. With his eyes still closed, he murmured a silent “(y/n), I’m trying to sleep”, and you tug at his hair playfully “And I’m trying to go home”

Another minute of silence before he speaks again, pointing out that it’s dangerous to go out since it’s already late so he’ll bring you home first thing tomorrow. You know what he wants— for you to stay the night, spend another couple of hours with him, feel your skin on his. It’s only when he’s with his debt isn’t as painful as it should be. Somehow— and he didn’t know how, don’t ask him, but when you’re around, everything is just bearable.

The lad opened his golden orbs, meeting yours, and you forgot all about the sunset because you’re now looking at the sun itself. He reaches out to your cheeks lovingly, saying the words he’s so reluctant to voice out, “(y/n), I want to rest tonight”.

If he could hear the beat of your heart you swear he’d be deaf. Xiao looks so ethereal and beautiful under you gaze, the back of his fingers moving across your cheeks as his innocent eyes begs for you to grant his desire. Your chest heaved at the fact that he wants you to stay for him to be able to rest.

You’re his rest.

You placed a kiss atop his forehead, urging him to go back to his long-forgotten slumber.

“Fine, I’ll be here when you wake up” you took his fingers in yours and hummed him a lullaby as he closes his eyes once again.

Kaedehara Kazuha

“I have to go, Kazu.”

“No”

“Kazuha”

“No”

“Kaedehara Kazuha”

“No.”

An exasperated sigh found its way out of your lips as Kazuha’s hug gets tighter. You can try and free yourself, but we all know it would be futile. His body caging yours as you sit, his head in the crook of your neck and arms securing your waist. This is a rare occurrence when it comes to the samurai. Usually, he’s calm and collected. Logic and you always coming first in his priority list instead of his own desires, but that’s never the case when he’s come home after a very long journey from who knows where.

The lad missed you so much he practically clung onto you the moment you met, earning a laugh and teasing from Beidou and the other crews.

“It’s been forever and now you want to leave me” he murmured against your neck and it tickles your skin, well, it’s not like he’s the only one who have missed someone. “I’m not leaving you, Kazu. I’ll be back by tomorrow. Promise” you fingers reach out for his hair and he hummed in the touch. Nah, he really can’t let go of you right now.

“No”

“I’ll give you lots of kisses if you let me go now.”

The offer seems like struck something on him and he contemplated a little before letting out another firm no with a shake of his head.

Accepting defeat, you maneuvered your body to face him and noticed how overjoyed he is as he hugged you tighter and whispers tons and tons of I miss yous and I love yous onto your ears.

It doesn’t take too long before your lover speaks innocently, “So, do I still get the kisses?”

Venti

“Venti…”

“Oh! Here’s another one…”

You watched as your boyfriend proceeds to sing another ballad for you, his voice sweet and tempting as he professed his feelings through music.

It would be lovely, really. In fact there’s nothing else you love as much as his songs and poems and proses, but the things is— if you’ve counted correctly, this one would be the 54th piece you’ve heard from the bard ever since you announced that you need to go home.

You heard him finished and you took the chance to speak before he starts another piece. “I know what you’re doing” you started, and he pouts. “Awee, you don’t like my songs Windblume?” he feigns hurt, but you’ve known him long enough to counter his playful antics.

“No, I love your every works, and voice, and anything, but Love, I really need to go” You reach out for his palms, earning to trace your love on the markings.

“And I can’t make you stay.” You heard him say as you play with his hands, eyes scrutinizing his features. Unusual blue present in his tender orbs. It’s a phrase rather than a question, as if accepting the fact that you will not concede.

“I’m sorry for taking too much of your time, can I walk you home now?”

Your heart tugged at his smile. It’s not his smile. Oh archons, you’ve known him long enough to counter his playful antics— but not this. As many times you’ve seen him breakdown and mourn, you heart still can’t handle the sight of a broken Venti.

“Unfair, you’re doing me dirty.”

You move towards him and placed your head on his chest, your arms on his middle as you speak. “You know how make me succumb to your wishes.”

He let out a quiet laugh, reciprocating your hug.

“No, I’m sorry. I just want to be with you longer.”

“Do you still want me to stay?”

“Always”

[dadsbongos]

The Lovers

word count - 4.8 k

warnings - ENEMIES to lovers..., non-graphic deaths and violence, i humanize and objectify pav in the same breath, fem reader (referred to by "girl" bc he's the worst)

first time capitalizing a fic title in months

DAY 2. NOON.

Blood splotches decorate the cobblestone floor, already drying into maroon against the wood planks of the train cars. The droplets lighten in shade the deeper into the train you go, and eventually, you find crimson. Pure cherry ink on dark wood. Cherry rots into a blackened smudge once again on the wheel of Olivia’s wheelchair. One hand settled over the thin black rim on her right, and the other twisting a roll of bandages around her fingers. She blinks up at you, bottom lip tucked so tight between her teeth that the rosy flesh is blistering white.

“I’m really sorry,” she sighs, abandoning the spool of cloth in her lap to push up her wiry glasses, “Terribly, I am, but I don’t- “ she pauses, “I’m worried that the others would be… biased in their care…”

Your gaze flits up from Olivia’s pensive face to the blonde man spread across the train’s cushy two-seater. His midsection is wrapped with reddish blooms vining all down the white crossings, arm bound in a sling over his chest. His eyes are scrunched up, brows furrowed towards the middle of his forehead; a fitful, delirious limbo overtaking him. Occasionally, he jerks himself awake in a wide-eyed panic before the pain knocks his brain topside again.

The Bremen lieutenant would hardly be a challenge to put down in his current state. You are one of few from the contestants that Olivia feels can be trusted not to undo her hard work of keeping the soldier alive. Combine your level-headedness with your lackadaisical attitude in searching Prehevil, and you make the perfect candidate to watch over Olivia’s patient.

Unfortunately.

“If he annoys me, can I press on his wounds?”

A wild grimace overtakes Olivia’s face, “No! No, please, please do not do that.”

“Fine,” you waltz past Olivia and study the blonde’s pinched face, “Go, go. I’ll watch the traitor.”

“Thank you!” she sighs in relief before exiting the train car, calling back hurriedly, “I’ll try to come with more bandages before sundown!”

When the lieutenant is not trapped under the rolling, ruthless waves of agony, you could almost mistake him for any other man. Maybe even a handsome one: with a strong nose and symmetrical bone structure. His lips are faintly the color of roses, too. Pale and pink. Dry, though. Not nearly as luscious as pretty petals.

Golden tresses, which you are mature enough to admit are alluring. His hat was off and his hair ruffled and fanning out over the magenta seat. Skin frail and pale - you could crush his ribs if you tried. Charming in a way you’ve only known real men to be.

Certainly, though, as soon as the pig squeals - the illusion of perky flowers and honey will melt away. Scorched by the moon as the villagers outside.

Foolishly, you agree to sit around waiting for the swine to be well enough to squeal. A smarter woman would’ve put it down (especially when it's previously shown a taste for blood), but you like Olivia and her tender heart so you do no such thing.

DAY 2. NIGHT.

As thanks for not murdering Pavel as soon as she’d turned her back, Olivia brought you fresh water and dried meats from scavenged homes alongside the fresh bandages. She left again soon after swapping the bloodied cloth for fresh ones.

“Do tell me when he wakes up,” she grins up at you. As if apologetic for having you carry out a duty you’d already agreed to, “I’m sure this isn’t an easy ask. I’m sorry.”

“If I wanted to make you feel bad for asking, I wouldn’t have said yes,” you wave off the concern, “Don’t die out there, Olivia. I’d miss you too much to do my job,” you gesture vaguely towards the immobile lieutenant.

She chuckles quietly before nodding, “I’ll do my best.”

Pavel’s groans are increasing both in frequency and throatiness - he’ll wake soon, you’re sure of it. He even turns onto his side, exhaling thickly - so harsh and ragged he actually coughs up bubbles of spit. Jittering with alert, he gasps sharply and rockets upward. Snapping at his waist and swiping out wildly with his unbound arm, clawing at the musty air directly in front of him; even attempting to swing out the arm wrapped and tied around his neck.

As soon as the hair-splittingly thin burst of adrenaline fades, he hisses in pain. Cupping the covered gash in his chest before curling his uninjured arm around the other, he throws his head back and gasps again. Suffocating under the re-stretching of closing wounds and fragile muscle.

Despite his uniform, you find yourself at Pavel’s side. You brush a hand down the length of his spine before patting between his shoulder blades, your other hand soothing down his navel to press him down into the cushions. Swiping aside curls of gold, you shush his groaning and search the care bag Olivia left behind. In your palm comes a bind of tobacco and a pipe that is smooth and cold against your skin.

“Quiet, quiet,” you coo, stuffing the chamber of the pipe with the almost sickly sweet, nutty-scented tobacco before raising Pavel’s head and sitting the lip into his mouth.

His eyes are still wrinkled shut, chest beginning to sporadically pop and shrink in a struggle to suck wind through his throat.

Part of you wants to tug his hair and call him stupid, but a larger part of you is consumed with pity. Pity for a creature so entrapped with torment that he cannot remember the second most basic function of his body.

“Breathe through your nose,” you continue to run your fingers through his sweat-matted hair while striking a match against the train’s floorboards and lighting the tobacco, “Smoke slow. It will ease you.”

Pavel’s neck cranes upward and remains there, head pushing against your stroking hand as he (rather noisily) inhales through his nostrils. Then, he fills his lungs with the sting of tobacco, blowing it back out through the pursed corner of his mouth.

Once you’re confident Pavel can breathe and smoke without choking himself to death, you turn again to rattle through Olivia’s care bag for herbs. Anything to aid the physical pain before the distraction of tobacco wears off.

Eyes fluttering open, Pavel stares down at you as he lifts an arm to pull the pipe from his mouth - blowing smoke down into your face. You pinch the exposed skin of his side harshly, only letting go when he jerkily arches his back to escape your cruel fingers.

“Unbelievable,” you shake your head, “No. A Bremen pig would, of course, disrespect someone trying to heal them.”

“If you wanted me dead, I already would be.”

“I still have time.”

You unplug a glass vial the shade of elderberries and press it to Pavel’s closed lips. When he stubbornly fastens his lips tighter, you glare directly into his eyes.

“Open. Or it’s being poured over your neck.”

Pavel groans in protest, but finally opens his mouth and allows you to dump the blue liquid into his throat. He gags at the bitterness of raw, untempered pressed herbs, almost gagging until he realizes you have no intention of stopping your pour. So he chooses to swallow down the vial as quickly as it comes instead of drowning to a mere glass of blue.

When you’re tucking the emptied glass away, Pavel replaces the pipe and huffs down at you, “You’re not a very courteous nurse.”

Instead of dignifying the jab with a response, you sit up fully on your knees to scour over the lieutenant below. From his tousled hair to his bloodied and wretched uniform to his muddied boots.

You reach up and contemplate digging a thumb somewhere in the center of his bandages before thinking better of it and snatching the pipe from his lips, “You should put away your breasts.”

Inhaling the smoke, you blow it down in Pavel’s annoyed face and grin when he coughs.

He glares up at you somehow harsher than before, “I could shoot you for that. I should shoot you for that.”

“Then who would protect you from all the other people that want you dead?”

Silently, he mulls over the question. If he reaches some sort of logical conclusion, he refuses to share. Most likely, though, you’re assuming he has no such answer. Aside from you, there is Olivia, but even she could not be swayed into staying on this train longer than necessary. It could drive one mad, bound inside this narrow tube of car after car after car with the same seats and floorboards and rolling rug. So she very politely requested you to stay behind instead.

You sit down on the hard floor below you, pulling your knees to your chest and winding both arms around your legs. Pavel turns his head to the side, lips in a pout. Drinking the blue liquid earlier has revived them, at least somewhat, they are even pinker. More full. Smoother. When you’ve had enough staring there, you stare at his eyes: so gray they shine like gun metal in the flitting moonlight.

Maybe Pavel would notice you examining him if he could tear his own eyes away from where they’re lingering by the sliver of exposed skin by your ankle. Classic: boarish pig lives up to his name. His gaze crawls up your shin to your bent knees, then a little lower as if to catch a glimpse of where your thighs and rear are squished against your chest and the floor (respectively). At least you have the decency to not objectify him during your observation - not that you even could. The lieutenant is leagues more off-putting than handsome.

Once he’s gathered the guts to bore his steely gaze into your face, he grins with a half-hearted shrug, “I haven’t seen a beautiful woman not kissing the piss lord’s ass in ages.”

You ignore the pass completely, “So, the temple square?”

Pavel sighs and extends a hand, palm up and fingers splayed wide in front of your face, “A failure.”

“You don’t say,” you bypass his hand and feed the lip of the pipe directly into his mouth, pressing it against his tongue and watching him firmly tuck it between his lips before letting go, “Why try?”

Puffing from the pipe, Pavel only shakes his head while exhaling thick plumes of slate-hued smoke. He swipes his tongue over his bottom lip and cradles the pipe in his hand, turning it delicately to inspect the body, “Why not?”

You make a show of looking from his face to his bandaged torso before snickering, “Serious question?”

Pavel takes one final draw of the pipe before balancing it atop the wooden frame of the seat. He lays his uninjured hand gently over his torso, blinking up at the ceiling with tired, wet eyes.

“You are cruel, you know this?”

“It’s a good defense,” you grin at the man innocently, “Especially against brutalist pigwhores.”

“Targeted,” again, he pouts, “Mean. You are a mean girl.”

“Maybe that’s what you need. I think Mama was too nice to you.”

Pavel withholds the wince at your words, merely pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth and inhaling through his nose sharply. He shrugs when he really wants to bite, “You think so?”

Hopefully, he muses, he can rip out your throat when he finally snaps back.

“I do.”

“You know what I think?” you merely fold your arms, so he continues, “Nobody put the spoiled girl in her place. Now she’s a confident woman full of hot air,” he smiles, “I don’t do well with confident women like that. Make me jumpy.”

You ‘hmph’, but respond with nothing new before rising from the floor and snatching the care bag to squeeze against your chest like a child would their stuffed bear. Laying across the unoccupied, opposite seat, you turn so that you're faced away from the lieutenant.

Pavel stares at your back. He hadn’t been entirely teasing earlier - he truly hadn’t found a woman beautiful in a long while. Not that it was a problem to admit a girl was pretty, but there was always some dull ache to accompany the thought. Women riveted by his status in the Bremen army disgusted him, and women disgusted by him and his status were usually unwilling to bend to his charms. Even then, if he met a woman who was nurturing and sweet, undeterred by his enlistment, he was consumed with revenge.

Now that he’s officially gone and tried and horrendously failed, he can at least swim in the delusion that there is a chance for romance. Besides, he is in his thirties, that’s about the time when people begin settling down, right?

He reaches up for the pipe but finds that it’s gone out. No more vermillion embers to offer comfort.

“Oi,” he calls into the night. Not even crickets sing back. He shifts as if to sit up, but his entire waist flares with pain and sends him crashing back into the velvet cushions. So, he settles on raising his voice, “Hey!”

“Sleep, pig.”

“Pav.”

“Hm?”

“My name. My name is Pav,” he considers throwing the pipe at you altogether, but if the gold-encrusted bowl actually hits your skull then you’d likely leave and never return, “Call me by it.”

“Why should I?” you twist, scowling over your shoulder, “You signed up for the Bremen army, now take what comes with that in Prehevil.”

“You don’t strike me as a dull girl,” he grumbles, “So don’t pretend to be one.”

Suddenly, you’re sitting up again, the bag still clenched between both of your arms, “Do you know what the Bremen army has done to people? Has done to me?” you spit on the floor, right below where Pav rests, “Pigs! Horrible, wretched, rotten pigs!”

Pavel allows you to scream, allows you to finish, before returning, “Do you know what the Bremen army has done to me?”

He’s so quiet, he’s downright whispering. Voice husky and layered with years of buried terror and bloodlust.

“How should I care? You enlisted! Whatever they made you- !”

Now he cuts you off.

“They razed my home during the First Great War,” that once blinding sheen in gunmetal eyes is dark like obsidian, “My family. My mama,” he mocks you, “Dead. I joined to kill the Kaiser, I never wanted to be a Bremen pig. I never asked for this.”

“You came to kill the Kaiser as a lieutenant?”

“I did.”

“You must’ve known…” you swallow your words. A lieutenant to kill the commander? Even without the Kaiser’s other soldiers, Pavel wouldn’t possibly have been able to do that and get away with it. Not unless he wanted to hide out in Prehevil for the rest of his days.

“At least I will never die knowing I didn’t try,” he cackles sickly, “Great leader Kaiser spat the bullet out like it was nothing… Maybe he is some God sent back to torture us.”

“Maybe you missed,” you slump forward, elbows digging into your knees, “Couldn’t that be more likely?”

“No,” he looks at you with widened eyes, “No, no,” he shakes his head, “I don’t miss my shots.”

“If you’re sure,” you smile suddenly, shaking loose the stiffness in Pavel’s shoulders, “When you’re healed, we can try again, hm?”

“Really?” he’s shocked by the madness of your suggestion, “Did you miss the part where I said he took a bullet to the head and walked it off?”

“Apparently, we’ll die here anyway,” you shrug, yawning and fluttering back down onto the seat, “So, why not try again, Pav?”

A girl that nurtures despite his bloody uniform, and now despite his terrible need for revenge. You are as cruel as you are doting. Fiery and unfair and oh, he thinks he wants you to card your fingers in his hair again. Gentle only to him.

“As long as you don’t abandon me once you see for yourself,” Pavel can feel less burning in his chest when he breathes now, “Spat the bullet right out, I tell you.”

You shrug, “I guess I’ll die one way or another here.”

Pavel shakes his head, not bothering to tilt his head away from you as he drifts off.

…

DAY 3. MORNING.

He awakes to a great pressure around his throat. Snapping into consciousness, he finds you standing over him with shaking arms, and when he’s brave enough to follow the branches to where they’re stemmed - your hands are around his neck. Your breathing is shaky, and there’s wetness reflecting off your cheeks. Pavel claws at your wrists with his hand, twisting his body so his bottom half is hanging off the seat. Ignoring the scorching rage that sears over the fresh gash in his stomach, Pavel kicks out at you. His heeled boots dig into your gut, squishing intestines and fat and blood as he pushes you away.

Loudly, his boots thunk back against the floorboard when you’ve fallen away, throwing yourself dramatically across the opposite seat. Like a sick Europian lady from the Gilded Age, you drape over the frame with sniveling wails.

Pavel skims his fingers over where your own were clamping his throat shut as he shudders for breath. Ignoring your sobs, he shouts, “Did you hit your head or what?! Heal me, talk to me, just to end my life?! Are you- ?!”

“Enough!” you scream, voice snapping raw in the middle, completely fizzled out at the end. Wiping at the ceaseless tears gushing over your face, you scream again, “She should’ve gotten out of here! She should’ve gotten out and ran instead of… Instead of…” you cough out phlegm and despair trapped in your throat, “Instead of…”

Marina’s downcast face, moles decorating her frown as she twisted a cracked pair of Windsor glasses between her hands. She could barely look at you when she said it before handing over the glasses. I’m sorry, Marina whispered, Olivia… I just thought, maybe, you should know…

Pavel remains as he is, lumped against the back of the seat with both legs dangling onto the floor. Dried blood scraped up under his heels. He heaves for breath, watching as you cradle yourself in your arms and rock. You wither before him, babbling and wheezing and shrouded in shadow.

“What are you going on about?”

“Be quiet,” you snap, louring through puffy, red eyes and wobbly lips, “Be mournful. The woman that saved your life has died,” before Pavel can squeeze anything out from his gaping mouth, you stand and point down at him to command again, “Be nice. The war is over, and you’re not even a real lieutenant, you can show kindness when a person has died.”

He shuts his mouth. Opens it again. Shuts it. Then, finally,

“I didn’t know her.”

From the way you cross your arms and turn away, he can gather that that was the wrong thing to say.

“And yet she saved you,” your arms tighten around yourself, “She saved you, Pav… Be nice.”

You’re a sweet thing, Pavel thinks. You clearly hate him for not displaying the tenderness that you are around the woman’s death. At least at this moment, you hate him.

“I’m taking a walk,” you announce, flinging open the cabin door and slamming it behind you.

Pavel contemplates calling after you, but figures the sound of his voice could only make you stay away longer.

You’re a cruel, sweet thing.

Not even leaving the care bag closer for him to reach in and take from.

DAY 3. NOON.

When you return, the train car is silent sans the gentle hum of Pavel’s breathing. Almost reminiscent of clockwork, a well-oiled machine, his broad chest rises and falls smoothly as he’s rearranged himself sideways on the seat. With his slung arm over his chest and spare one tucked under his head as a makeshift pillow.

Having Pavel stretched out before you gives ample time for you to more thoroughly judge his physique - if you’d be able to strangle him while he’s awake. If he could fight back. If he could lift you with his pure muscle and restrain you with a single hand while the other…

Maybe, you think.

His arms are large, but not obnoxiously terrifying like the boxer. His waist is slim despite the broadness of his shoulders and chest.

Suddenly, he groans, nose twitching in his slumber. It draws your gaze up to his face. That unsettlingly symmetrical face with the strong nose bridge and soft, rosy lips.

Not to mention his flaxen hair - curled and tousled and forcefully in your sights with that Bremen hat off. And with his Bremen uniform (seemingly always) unbuttoned to his stomach, you make out his pectorals past his bandages. You make out two indentations over his heart: silvery scars.

He could almost be handsome. If he were more emotionally attuned.

You kneel by his side, swinging the care bag across the aisle and into your lap. His bleeding has visibly lessened, as only the lightest shade of pink has spread over the pale cloth. Sneaking scissors up by his soft skin, you avoid slicing him as you snip the bandages and begin unwinding them. Pulling gently so as to avoid waking the man, you successfully clear him from the restrictive cloth and assess his healing wound.

More coral pink than crimson red, now. You assume the mass improvement is thanks to the blue vial Olivia had provided. Even as the gnarly cut expands under Pavel’s breathing, it fails to start bleeding again. Which you’re grateful for since, as a precarious glance into the bag confirms, you have freshly run out of bandages. And you fear that snagging any old cloth from any old barrel could give Pavel an infection.

“What was it Alll-mer said? Pluck out your eyes if you cannot respect modesty?”

“I’m checking your wound,” you pinch his side. The skin is warm and fleshy and so, so soft between your fingertips. He whimpers and tries to evade your hand by squirming higher on the seat, “When did you wake up?”

“Not long ago,” he watches you reach into the bag and pull free another glass vial of blue liquid, “Only to see you ogling my body.”

“It’s a hideous one. Hard to look away.”

“You love to lie, mean girl?” he ‘tsk’s, “Shame. Lies are so ugly from a pretty mouth.”

“As if you would know.”

“Confident woman,” he sings to himself, grinning, “Confident, confident woman.”

Shoving the blue vial towards Pavel’s face, you square your shoulders and settle your face sternly, “Drink.”

“I liked it when you did it for me,” he opens his mouth then, refusing to break eye contact.

You comply, shifting onto your knees and pressing the chilled glass against Pavel’s lower lip; tipping it to flow into his warm mouth. He gulps down what you graciously offer, bringing his uninjured arm out from under his head and settling it over your hand around the vial. His thumb presses against your knuckles. You tangle your other hand into his hair and let the golden curls thread over your fingers. Once the vial is finished, you can’t explain it but there’s a sudden thundering in your chest. So vivid and hard in your ribs that it makes you nauseous.

Pavel blinks, lashes fluttering at you as his hand remains over yours.

Sunshine slants across his face. You see him more clearly now than this morning or last night or when he was wrought and warped with pain.

He looks pretty like this. Foul-mouthed and promiscuous and even forthright rude, but undoubtedly pretty.

His hand moves to your cheek, tenderly cupping the flesh with glass still pressed to his lips.

The thunder comes with lightning that strikes blazing fire. Heat fans through your chest and up to your forehead.

“If you want to go after the Kaiser, you should rest,” you whisper, as if speaking any louder could shatter the both of you from this moment, “We both should. Best to gather our strength before searching for him.”

Pavel shakes his head, obsessively smoothing the pad of his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “He will gut us both, cruel girl. I don’t want to see that for you. If I find him it’s alone,” he swallows thickly, “And I’m tired.”

“So,” you realize with a startled tremble that your internal combustion is affection for the former lieutenant, “you’ll stay?”

And with greater terror, you realize that you actually want to stay with him.

“I will die knowing I failed,” he sucks in a sharp breath, pressing his lips firmly before granting you sight of the rosy flesh again, “but I will have you to die with, cruel girl.”

At least even in humiliating defeat, Pavel can be loved.

“Are you scared to die, Pav?”

You’re a sweet one, he fondly recalls. Assuming he had much to live for outside his schlocky revenge scheme.

“Projecting, hm?”

You pinch his side. He lets you.

DAY 3. NIGHT.

“Now, bend it.”

Pavel hisses but manages to fully extend and curl his newly unwound arm with nothing more than a click in his elbow. He lays both hands in his lap as you bunch the bandages and sling into a ball and lay it off to the side.

“Good,” you utter softly, “You’ve healed a lot faster than I would’ve thought.”

“Right?” Pavel turns his head to stare down at you, tilting his head back, “You should sit with me.”

“You’re feeling charitable,” he scoffs at your tease, not moving to accommodate his invite, “Where should I even sit, then? You’re taking the entire seat.”

When he merely smirks, you get the idea.

“You’re gross.”

“Indulge me, cruel girl,” you rise to your feet, gnawing your bottom lip in contemplation, Pavel leans against the armrest and cinches his legs together, “Would you make a man die alone?”

“Yes,” you answer without hesitation.

But would you make Pavel die alone?

You swing a leg over his torso, careful to avoid the healing slash and straddle Pavel’s waist with both hands landing over his exposed chest. He cups your cheek again, now taking pleasure (and slight pain) in cradling your face with both hands. He hasn’t gotten to see a beautiful woman in ages, and he thinks maybe it isn’t so bad to go out staring at one.

Moonlight cascades over the both of you, so bright in the train cabin it almost burns.

“If we could still run, where would you go?” you ask.

“Where would you want me?”

“Flirt,” you’re leaning in, though, trailing a finger over his scarred chest. Your nails bite at the flesh, he grunts in disapproval, “How can I believe anything you say? You betrayed your leader. Would you shoot me, too?”

Pavel is sure you’re anything but serious in asking, but it's dangerous the way he feels compelled to answer genuinely, “Never. I’d miss your… What was it? Brutalism?”

“Enough,” the moonlight sears over where Pavel’s hands are curved around your cheeks. You lean down more until your lips brush his, “You call me rude, but you’re- “

He slices your derision short, pressing his petal soft lips against yours with a quiet, contented sigh.

Moonlight bares witness. And you cannot pull away even as the fire in your heart rages from affection to molten lava. You’re not even entirely sure you would want to.

…

Karin cannot feel her fingers as she stands in the open train car door. She’s seen many things - many terrible, awful things. Especially so in the past seventy-two hours than her entire career as a war journalist, but this may be what truly drives her mad. She can feel it - the need to retreat inside her mind and shut down completely; the need to give up hope of salvation. Maybe she can suppress it long enough to sit by that seashore, get a good view to wash out the image before her.

Wriggling on the train loveseat is a fleshy creature, almost like mushed peaches. Occasionally, pleased sighs and hums will escape one of its two smiling faces as the lumps slide and shift along the cushion. One face nuzzles closer to the other and the measly bread and meat Karin swiped from deserted kitchens lurches in her stomach.

None of the other monsters she’d encountered had been so undeniable in its previous humanity. It reminds her of the holed, broken, pliant corpses of uniformed soldiers dead in trenches, and it reminds her of the first time she ever saw a real dead body. She puked on its boot, unable to run back and spew bile elsewhere before it was spurting past her lips.

Karin’s stomach is stronger now, though. She has the time to turn and trudge on wobbly knees towards the seaside before she pukes - squirming flesh and smoldered limbs tangling in her mind.

Moonlight burns at the back of her neck as The Lovers moan and coo happily behind her.

[mi-dori]

☆Strange Magic☆

●Prompt: In which your girlfriend has never seen a phone before so it was up to you to teach her about earthrealm's technology.

●Warnings: Clueless Kitana...Mentions of porn

■MK1■

Outworld was no stranger to magic; the civilians that reside in outworld know all too well about magic and its capabilities, so when Earthrealm's very own, Johnny Cage brought a phone in Outworld, it sparked the interest of many; including a certain blue princess.

Of course you owned a phone too, but you never thought it would be useful in outworld, not when Kitana found it and began inspecting it, holding it with great care and great interest. "So this strange device.... has magic?"

Kitana and you were currently seated on the bed, the phone in your hand. You finally decided to break down every detail of a phone to her, in hopes she'd understand, but poor Kitana had so many thoughts and questions and you were gonna answer every single one of them.

"No my love-well you could say it's kind of a magic but it's called technology."

"I have heard about that term before. Its sort of like scientific knowledge, correct?"

"That's correct. Over the past centuries, technology became advance and with each passing year, people created many useful tools using technology and they even brought about a phone. Technology these days became so advanced that people created robots and machines capable of completing tasks just as a human would."

To say Kitana was astonished was an understatement. Her eyes were wide open with shock... interest, so many different emotions. "So what exactly is the purpose of this phone?"

"A phone is used to communicate with others. Let's say if I'm right in this Palace and you're somewhere in Sun Do, using a phone, I can call you. It will only work if you have a phone as well."

"So it's like a technological pigeon?" She titled her head, making you break into a fit of giggles. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing... it's just the way you phrased it. Yes you could say a phone is like a technological pigeon, my love." She made an 'O' shape before urging you to continue.

"Phones are also used to take pictures, much like a regular camera. There's also features like games, video watching apps and so many more." With each feature you listed, you gave a brief explanation on every one, showing her demonstration on how to use it. Eventually, she caught ahang of it and by the time you were done, you were left tired.

"Y/n look! I killed the man!" Kitana shook you excitedly, a bright smile on her face. She was playing a game you had on your phone and you fought yourself to keep awake, however, she noticed. "Oh my love... I'm sorry I wore you out..." she sighed softly, placing the phone down as she positioned herself to hug you.

Unintentionally, she sat on the phone and turned on Siri who then spoke, "What can I assist you with today?" Hearing the voice, Kitana squeaked and jumped into your arms.

"By the gods! There's a woman trapped! Is this one of Shang Tsung's magic?!"

Laughing loudly, you shook your head at her comments. Well, you did forgot to explain to her like Siri so you took another few minutes to explain and demonstrate to about the strange woman trapped in the technological pigeon. Kitana was busy asking Siri the most out of pocket questions, and you were busy fighting sleep once more.

A few moments of silence passed and Kitana then asked, "what is porn?"

"Kitana what?!"

"You have it here on something called, Search History."

"Give me that. No more phone! Good night!"

With a pout, she laid ontop of you, sighing like a little child as you turned away with a red and embarrassed face. Well maybe you did have a few regrets about teaching her but there's nothing you can do, except clear your search history every day...

[xbeezchaos]

BPD Howl Pendragon!

I knoooooowwww. I’ve literally been dead for months and apologies for this being something unrelated to the BPD Scara series I’ve been getting at but I’m currently fixated on Howl so I’ll be using him as my projector. I also highly believe this man has BPD and nobody can convince me otherwise

Btw. I don’t condone romanization of mental issues. I’m simply ✨projecting healthily✨

Jealousy flare ups and depressive episodes; what that looks like for Howl

He’s unsure why, but he has been struggling with jealousy in a much higher factor than what he’s typically used to. It may be due to your presence

Ever since you two have gained the new title of dating and made it public, he’s felt a sense of possessiveness over you in a way that felt consuming

He needed you in bed to sleep soundly at night, and if you weren’t there he’d have not a wink of sleep while he held one of your clothing items close, taking in your scent and crying to himself about why you weren’t here

He gets suspicious and jealous when you spend lots of time away from him and with other friends. He trusts you but he’s scared someone will take you away.

You try telling him these things you plan out, but sometimes he won’t listen after he’s become too worked up over the idea of you being away for so long

He spends hours in bed without water or food. No motivation to get up until he gets a message from you encouraging him

Sometimes you have to baby the tall man, wash his hair and brush it for him.

Getting him to eat is the worst, he blames his medication cause the side effects impact his appetite frequently but the benefits are “too good” to give it up for just that

When he does eat, he’s got a sweet tooth like no man’s business, you’d think he’d gone mad with the amount of sugary treats he’d consume. But at least he was eating now so you didn’t complain too much

If he’s not sleeping all day, he’s awake for days on end, unable to sleep and refuses to take his sleep aid pills because “they don’t work.”

He’s secretly really petty towards those around the two of you but tries his best to keep most of it to himself. Even if you know. He won’t tell you.

The sleep aid pills knock him flat on his ass and he hates it. Waking up to your giggles of how he fell asleep in your arms like a snoring baby would make his face flush in embarrassment

He dislikes a lot of people talking to him when he’s upset. He’ll start snapping and going silent. P

Sometimes despite how hard it is to get out of bed, when he does, he’ll try to do small things like clean, eat, and make you little gifts

He made you a phone charm and matching rings to wear, he’d spent all night on it, since he was in bed all day.

It’s hard when he’s having an episode due to his jealousy, if you or someone else doesn’t get to him in time he’ll start calling upon the shadows and it takes quite a while to get him to even process that anyone else besides him is within the vicinity, let alone fully calm down.

He gets very clingy when he’s depressed, he’ll carry around items of yours and calls them “support items”

He looks like a tall child with a blanket as he walks around the house doing his daily business. It’s the best you’ve seen him do in the last few weeks so you try to keep him with his support items often

“Coffee is not a meal, have you eaten anything today?”

“A cheese stick..” you hit him over the head with a rolled up newspaper after that and dragged him to go make food.

He’d done this for over a week now and despite the small efforts, a drink wasn’t enough for him to get through the day.

Extra sassy in his conversations with calcifer

Takes the longest showers ever and he’s always steaming like a boiled potato when he gets out

Becomes a tablet child to compete simple tasks

Irritable as hell when he’s around people he’s not fully comfortable with, like your friends he’s only met twice

He’d eventually try going off on his own and have a good time that way, then eventually end up having an anxiety attack when he starts getting into his own head again

It’s not that he’s not social, but when he feels ignored he gets quite irritable and especially quiet. Which is odd for him because he loves chatting with new people

[pear1escence]

Keegan P. Russ x fem!Reader

Take me into your skin

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Content Warnings: 18+, slight description of self harm (reader describes having scratched themselves before), nudity (no explicit sexual content but sensual touching), vague reference to intimacy, depressive behaviours (????), smoking, he bites you😒😒

A/N: Writing this was therapeutic. Self indulgent asf. Title is from ‘Mary of silence’ by Mazzy Star. Lyrics fit suprisingly well, and I also want to crawl into his skin and live there and be his little symbiote. He’s so. Ugh. He’s so daddy. Need him in my life and inside me as well.

Wordcount: 1,5k

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

The apartment complex ahead is dark, save for one lonely room lit up by a bright TV-screen. Everyone else is asleep. You wonder what she’s doing awake at this time at night, the woman whose figure is barely illuminated on the couch. Maybe she can’t sleep. Maybe she’s waiting up for someone, you know that feeling. Your face twists into a frown, recalling the nights when you’d wait up for him for hours, when he wouldn’t come home, when you’d cry with worry, scratching at your skin with your fingernails to try and relieve yourself from the heavy feeling. There’s a sudden movement in the window which grabs your attention again. The woman grabs something from the table in front of her and turns her TV off, leaving the room empty, void of light.

You look up at the sky, eyes following the motions of a plane. Wondering what its destination is, what its passengers are thinking about. Why would anyone be travelling in the middle of September anyway? Work, maybe. Visiting family. It doesn’t matter to you, not really.

Time passes, and you keep staring out the window of Keegan’s apartment. Thinking. None of your thoughts matter. You think you’re trying to keep yourself occupied, you don’t want to feel, not when that nauseating feeling in your stomach won’t go away. You’re cold, your bare thighs shivering slightly on the tiles of his kitchen flooring. The handle of the cupboard to your back keeps scraping at your naked skin. You’re not fully there. Your mind dipping halfway into your little maze of thoughts. You want to crawl back in bed to Keegan. He’ll notice you left the bed. He’ll come into the kitchen and see you, almost naked on his kitchen floor. And then he’ll get worried. You don’t want him to worry.

You hear the familiar creak of his bedroom door, the pats of his feet on the floor as he looks for you in the living room, in the bathroom, and then in the kitchen. You smile as he finally steps around the counter, squatting down to get a proper look at you. Your smile is gone when you see the worried look on his face, hear the low murmur of your name from his lips. You’re quick to cover your bare breasts by pulling your knees up, embarrassed at your current state. His dark eyebrows are furrowed together, his hair tousled and messy from having just woken up.

His calloused hand reaches out to you, his thumb stroking over your cheek in back-and-forth motions. “Let’s get you back to bed, alright, pretty?” His voice is calm, but you hear the desperation in it. Of course he’s worried, this isn’t normal. It’s not normal to get out of bed half naked, away from your pillow of a partner, to sit and stare out of a window for half an hour. Maybe longer. You’re not sure how long it had been since you’d come into the kitchen.

You’re looking up at him through your lashes, your lips stay closed. Your gaze flickers from him to the window. You need a cigarette, you decide. You want to cuddle up to him and steal from the warmth of his body heat. You want to feel small in his lap with his arms around you. You lean into his hand, gaze now locked on his face. His outgrown stubble, pretty eyes, chapped lips. He needs some chapstick. He’s still pretty, you think. The stubble looks good on him.

Your voice is a whisper. A weak plead for him to stay up with you for a little while longer.

“Need a cigarette. Stay with me on the porch?” He smiles at hearing your voice. Sometimes you’d go mute on him. Not on purpose. You simply couldn’t bring yourself to speak, as if you were being choked. He takes it as a sign that you’re at the very least somewhat okay. His smile has your stomach fluttering.

“I’ll get you something to wear first, just wait here. Can’t have my girl catching a cold, can I?” He presses a kiss to your forehead, running his arm down your side before he’s back on his feet. My girl. You smile. His girl.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

He carries you out to the porch. Your body sways from side to side, the repetitive motion soothing you, as if you were rocking back and forth in a rocking chair. His clothes are old, but the fabric feels nice on your skin. Kind of him to give you his own clothes so yours won’t stink of cigarettes. You smile at the thought.

He’s looking down at you like you’re the most important thing in the world. His eyes look brighter in the moonlight, the usual pale blue color now yellow-y from the light shining off from the streetlights lining the road ahead. He’s all around you. His body, his touch, his scent. You prefer it like this, prefer it when you can barely think of anything else. You’re enveloped in softness. The warm wool blanket wrapped around the both of you, his clothes, the softness of his thighs under you.

The silence is comfortable. Neither of you speak as he lights you a cigarette, eyes smiling at the way you look up at him, cig in your mouth, his hand holding the lighter carefully.

You liked his apartment. His neighbours were quiet enough, although you’d embarrassingly caused him a few noise complaints during your past, late night visits. The air was filled with the low hum of cars passing by and the occasional drunken bickering. Smoke billowed into the space around you, the lights given off by the street-lamps causing it to appear as a dreamlike yellow before it disappears into the air.

Keegan has one arm wrapped around you, the other flickering ash off the porch. “How’s my girl doing?” His voice is a low, practically purring tone, his breath hot on your neck. “Feel better?” His hand makes its way underneath (his) your shirt to feel the softness of your skin. His hand runs up and down your side, not missing the opportunity to fondle your breasts as well, much to your dismay. He’s cold from having his hand out in the night air, causing you to shift away from his grip. You yelp at the cold feeling of his hands circling your nipples, the strong hold of his arm around you leaves you begging him to find a different stress relief toy.

Looking up at him, you snort at the stupid, boyish smile on his face. You stump your cigarette out on an ashtray, chucking the rest over the railing.

“You’re so stupid.” You mutter in exasperation towards your boyfriend, yelping again at the sudden pain in your neck, the man behind you biting you with a chuckle. Christ, he knew how to be an annoying little shit. He leans back to relax against his surprisingly comfortable outdoor sofa, all while laughing at his own stupid ideas. Haha. Funny. You roll your eyes, wiping your neck with (his) your sleeve. There was something sweet about his playfulness, the lightheartedness he carried himself with back home. His laughter was so boyish, annoying, sure, but sweet.

You force your smile down, trying to look serious. You turn your head to see him still chuckling. You raise your brow at him as if to ask; was it really that funny to you? He answers with a grin, a happy, mischievous one as if he was a boy getting scolded by his teacher, something like that. His arms lift you up, turning you around and pressing your body close to his.

He was a different person at work than he was here, with you. His work really did take a toll on him, anyone could tell. He seemed lighter now, like he was free from that worry. You place absent-minded kisses along his neck, his jawbone, and up to his cheek. His hands refuse to stay still, either roaming the skin of your torso or drawing circles in your hair.

“What’s on your mind?” He murmurs, his chin on your shoulder. You lean back to catch a proper look of his face. He looks so handsome. The light illuminating parts of his dark hair, his slightly flushed skin. He looks happy, like he’s not carrying a heavy load of trauma and responsibilities with him constantly. You like him like this. Sure, he’s annoying. And he just bit you, as if he were a cat, or something.

“Hmm?” You ask him lazily, drawing out the mmm with a smile. You’d gotten caught up with your thoughts, his question swirling into your little cocktail of rambles till it was forgotten.

He repeats the question, stroking your hair lovingly. You yawn, stretching your arms into the air and scrunching your face together. “If you were an animal, you’d be a cat. Like, one of those little black cats with anger issues.” You’re mumbling the words into his chest, half asleep by this point.

He can’t help the chuckle that escapes his mouth, wrapping you into the wool blanket to keep you warm as he carries you back inside. Your mumbles are half-assed protests for him to carry you back to the porch, at least that’s all Keegan could make out of your unintelligible half-asleep rambles. That, and a number of different reasons as to why your almost-asleep self was convinced Keegan resembled a cat.

That nauseous feeling in your stomach is gone. Forgotten in the midst of him.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

[daenysx]

i hope you like this! my inbox is always open if you'd like to share something with me!!

era: prison

title is from cigarettes after sex' song 'apocalypse'.

my masterlist

your lips, my lips

daryl dixon loves the aftercare and spending his nights with the love of his life.

you'd never believe you could have such a lovely night during an apocalypse.

daryl is here with you, brushes his lips on your bare shoulder. faint kisses and soft words, telling you how good you are. scars on his bare chest can only be seen in light but even in the darkness of the night, you carved their places on your mind. you lean into him, your archer's broad chest.

he loves how you kiss his scars after your endless sessions of fucking each other. he knows it's such a crude word to describe what you do, you'd probably call it something like having sex. he doesn't care about words, he only cares about what you've done almost each night.

it's the aftercare he loves the most. he tries to stay awake but having sex with you helps him with his restless sleep. he can close his eyes, let himself have a deep and peaceful rest, holding you close to his chest, giving his warmth to your cold body. he knows how you feel the same, sleeping with him in the same bed, wrapped around each other naked, staying awake when you're both finished to give each other affection.

daryl rubs your sore muscles in his big hands gently, his hands cover your thighs and hips. your shoulders and neck are next until your body melts against him. sometimes you wish you could have a long bath with him, staying in warm water and falling asleep, bubbles and clean scents everywhere. that's not possible for now but maybe- just maybe. even the dream of it is so beautiful.

after a few minutes of calming down, you put your face on his chest and wrap your legs around his body in bed. he continues rubbing your back and stroking your hair. when he brushes a little kiss on your hair, you lift your head and look at him through blurry eyes.

"sleepy?" he asks, almost whispering.

"mm-hmm." you nod, lying on top of him, totally content with your current place.

a sudden tear from your big, pretty eyes scares him when he's about to fall asleep with you.

"wha' happened sunshine?"

you dry your cheek and smile at him.

"nothing. i was- just thinking about- you know, all the things we could have if it weren't for the apocalypse."

he understands but a part of him always thinks that you would never fall for each other if the apocalypse had never happened. you are from different lives and daryl dixon doesn't believe in fate.

"i could be lying here for hours," you continue. "just staying in bed after my man made me see the stars. never leaving here, never leaving your side."

daryl can't help a wave of pride rushing over him. he kisses your hair again as he listens your sleepy mumblings.

"we'd never be like this then sweetheart. ya know tha'."

"hmm, but i don't wanna believe that."

he chuckles. "fine. be a stubborn girl then, don' believe in tha'."

you kiss his chest, right under a fresh scar. "you make the apocalypse bearable."

he shakes his head slowly. "nah, that's you. you are perfect, sunshine. my perfect."

he'll hold you there until the sun rises. he'll kiss you anywhere he wants, anywhere you want him to. he'll whisper sweet promises about how he'll protect you with his life. he'll tell you how lovely you look with a shy voice.

people may think that daryl dixon is incapable of showing love.

well, people are fucking wrong.

in your shared cell, he makes this life worth living. every night, he gives you another reason to keep going. every night, he tells you the loveliest things to put a smile on your face.

the nights become the story of you finding the love of your life during an apocalypse.

[redskull199987]

New Ache

Sodo x fem!reader Part III (new Ghoul/replacement for Aether)  Word Count:2k Warnings:backache?(the title is leading, i know), lots of teasing Summary:The Reader takes the place of Phantom in this, replacing Aether and playing the Rhythm Guitar. She was working at the ministry before and was always close to the Ghouls, especially Sodo. Now Papa decided that it was finally her time to shine…  tagged: @peachimano (you asked for a next part, so i thought i´d tag you, but tell me if you wanna be removed) Part I, Part II, Part III(You are here) Masterlist

You watched in amusement how Sodo tried to ignore the fierce questions of his fellow Ghouls, while you waited for the bus to start. You would be making your way to Berlin tonight, in order to perform the first ritual of this tour in Germany.

“Come on, just admit it!”, you heard Rain giggling, as he nudged Sodo`s shoulder,”You love her.” Rain nodded his head into your direction, causing you to smile. Before Sodo could say anything in return, you got up from your place in front of him and sat down between the fire Goul and Rain. Both of them looked at you perplexed, as you laid an arm each around their shoulders, pulling them closer. “Be nice to each other, will you?”, You smiled politely, probably a bit too politely, making it obvious that their conversation about Sodo`s and your relationship ended here.

“Why are you guys still up?”, Cirrus mumbled, as she suddenly entered the common area at the end of the bus, where Rain, Sodo, Swiss and you were currently sitting. The others had already departed to their bunks a while ago, trying to catch a little bit of sleep, before the annoying rattling of the bus would keep them awake, while you were on the road.

“Just talking a bit”, Swiss snickered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Cirrus only sighed at his answer.”You guys should get some sleep, we have a ritual tomorrow!” “She is not wrong.”, Sodo intervened. He slowly got up, grabbing your hand in the process,”Come on, let's go to sleep.”

You said goodnight to Rain and Swiss, as the two of them decided to stay up a bit more, before following Cirrus upstairs, to the bunks. Fortunately, Sodo`s and your bunk were at the end of the row, away from the few already snoring Ghouls and Ghoulettes. Cirrus mumbled a sleepy goodnight, as she got in her bunk across from Cumulus. You and Sodo quietly made your way to the last two beds that were across from each other.

“Careful”, you murmured, as Sodo almost tripped over his own feet, trying to get out of his T-Shirt. “I'm fine”, he mumbled reassuringly, as he had finally changed into his night attire that was lying under his pillow just a few minutes prior. You quickly tried to change as fast as him, but also tripped, as you tried to get out of your T-Shirt. Luckily, Sodo was there to catch you. His hands wrapped around your waist, as you stumbled into his chest, the narrow space of the bus, not making anything easier. “Got you.”, the fire ghoul whispered in your ear, making a shiver run down your spine. “Thanks”, you mumbled, trying to step out of his grasp, but you felt Sodo´s slender fingers tighten around your waist. Your breath hitched, as you felt his lips on neck, leaving gentle kisses behind. His hands slowly made their way upwards, as he pulled you closer to his bunk. “Why don't you sleep in my bed tonight?”, he breathed against your neck, making your hairs stand up straight. “It's way too narrow”, you whined, finally escaping his grasp and turning around to look at the Ghoul. “We'll make it fit.”, he grinned, grabbing your hands,”Come on, do it for me.”

You were about to deny his request once more, as you felt the bus roaring alive and only a few seconds later, it slowly started driving.

You were once more thrown into the arms of your beloved, as he caught you from tripping over, as the Bus started. “I think that was a sign”, Sodo grinned looking down at you. His glowing eyes inspected your face carefully. You only groaned in annoyance, slightly hitting his chest:”Fine, but if you wake up with a backache, then don't complain, alright?” “I won´t.I promise”, he laughed, before ushering you to lay down. As you sprawled out on the bed, it quickly became clear that two people would never fit next to each other. So, Sodo did the only logical thing to him, before you could stop him. 

He slumped down on top of you.

You groaned slightly at his weight, but as he adjusted himself, slotting his legs between yours and resting his head in the crook of your neck, it quickly became more comfortable. 

“Dear satan, how does Mountain fit in these.”, you muttered under your breath, as you reached for the blanket, in order to cover the two of you. Sodo only chuckled at your comment.

“Good night, my love”, he finally mumbled into your skin, his breath tickling your neck. You snuggled closer to him, your arms wrapping around his torso:”Sleep well, my firefly.” You felt Sodo smile, as he heard the nickname that you used for him. And soon after, you felt his breath become steadier, his arms falling loosely around you. It didn't take you long to fall into a peaceful slumber too, as you were accompanied by the soft rhythm of Sodo´s heartbeat.

Against all you exceptions, you were the one who had a backache send from hell on the following day. How good that you didn't have a long and exhausting day in front of you. Oh wait, that was exactly the case. So, not long before the ritual began, you were huddled up next to Sodo on a sofa in the backstage area, while everyone was preparing for the ritual. “Does it still hurt?”, you heard Sodo whispering into your ear, as he gently brushed your hair aside. “It's alright now.”, you hummed truthfully, looking up at the fire ghoul. He granted you a soft smile. Something that was reserved for you and only you. You smiled back at him with delight and leaned up to kiss his temple, before you were interrupted by one of your fellow Ghoul´s.

“Come on, Lovebirds. It's time to get ready”

You turned around, as you heard Mountain's deep voice behind you. Sodo only groaned and slowly got to his feet:”Don´t worry big guy, we got it covered.” The smaller Ghoul looked back down at you and held out his hand to you. You looked back and forth between Mountain and Sodo for a second, before finally grabbing Sodo´s hand. He pulled you up with ease.

“See you in a bit.”, you smiled at Mountain before heading towards your dressing rooms. 

It didn't take long before Sodo and you reunited in the hallway, both of you now in your full stage gear, your faces hidden and a human form taken. “Ready?”, you asked Sodo before you made your way to get your instruments and step out onto the stage. “Oh, I´m always ready, my love.”, he grinned, the motion barely visible under his balaclava. He quickly took your hand, before sprinting into the direction of the stage, with you in tow.

It didn't take you long to get into the mood to tease around with Sodo again and before you knew it, the Ghoul was on his knees in front of you, strumming on his guitar with everything he had in him. You heard the yells and screams of the fans, but your eyes were fixed on Sodo´s face. You could make out that stupid grin he wore under his mask. It made you weak in the knees, so you did what came to your mind first. You joined Sodo on the floor.

Before the fire Ghoul knew what was happening, you were kneeling in front of him, your guitars almost touching. You grinned back at Sodo, before getting up again after a minute or so, as you felt your lower back starting to ache again. The next time Sodo asked, if you could sleep together in the bus, you really had to say no or you wouldn't survive this tour.

You only grinned, as you slowly walked to the other side of the stage. Sodo reached his hand out to you, but you only blew him a kiss. He jumped up a little, pretending to catch it. He looked at you satisfied, before turning back around, already on his way to annoy Rain. The poor water Ghoul didn't get a single break so far. 

As you crossed Swiss´ little podest, you quickly waved at the multi-Ghoul. He gave you a heartwarming grin and excitedly waved back at you. You couldn't help but laugh at his goofiness, before you turned back around, looking at the crowd. A few people right in front of you were waving right at you, as if they wanted to tell you something. You gave them a curious look and pointed a finger at your chest, as if to ask if they meant you. The fans nodded vigorously, so you stepped closer, careful not to fall over the edge. You leaned forward and finally saw what they were fiddling with. It was a pride flag. 

You quickly pointed at the flag and then at yourself, asking if they wanted you to take it. A choir of “yes” flew back at you, so with a smile you leaned forward even more, trying to grab the flag, which you now saw was a trans-flag.

 If it wasn't for the security guard, who caught the flag, it would´ve fallen to the ground. But he quickly grabbed it and handed it to you. You thanked him with a small nod, before stepping back onto the stage again. 

Luckily, you still had a few more minutes before the next song would start, so as Papa was showing off his German skills on the other side of the stage, you proudly lifted up the flag with a huge grin forming under your mask. 

You heard the happy screams of the fans who handed it to you, as you waved at them. But unfortunately, you knew that you couldn't keep holding it up, for the rest of the ritual. You needed both your hands to play. 

After a few moments of considering, you realized that Papa had almost finished his little speech and was about to announce the next track. so, without further ado, you turned on your heel and walked over to Swiss. His head turned towards you, as he saw you approaching. He quickly realized what you wanted to do, so as you held the flag up to him in an asking manor, he nodded happily and immediately reached out for the flag. You stood on your toes, so that he could reach it and as he caught it, he lifted it into the air, just like you had done it only minutes prior. You laughed at the happy Ghoul and waved at him a last time before turning back around, as the next song started.

As you almost ran into cirrus, you knew it was time for mummy dust. The Ghoulette grabbed your shoulders gently to stop you from running into her. A grin laced her lips, as you could hear her mouth the word,”Careful!”, into your ear. You only nodded back at her before she made her way to the middle of the stage.

It didn't take long before you were joined by Rain and Sodo. The three of you were keeping a low profile while Cirrus performed on the keytar. Everytime you heard her play it, you were amazed by her. The Ghoulette was very talented and you hoped to be as experienced as her one day. 

As your gaze was longing on Cirrus, you felt someone bump your side. you quickly looked up and saw that it was Sodo who had nudged you. As soon as he caught your attention, he leaned closer to your ear. “You´re almost making me jealous, when you stare at her like that, my love”, he mumbled. You felt your cheeks redden, thankful for the mask that hid it. You didn't even have time to reply, as he was already waltzing off again. Your gaze was longing on the fire Ghoul and it stayed on him until the song ended. 

The teasing would never come to an end, you thought to yourself. But after all, you didn't even want that. That was the exact reason why you loved this band so much, and you hoped that it would stay like that for the rest of the tour.

Minus the backache maybe.

[in-need-of-gally-content]

Hey~ this fic it's still a work in process so it has no title, but I wanna see how it goes.

|Chapter•One|

•|Masterlist|•

It was a rather chill night in the Glade, everyone was finishing up with dinner and usually, they would sit around to talk or play for a little while before heading to bed, but everyone was feeling like sleeping earlier that night, after all, their lullaby would start any second now.

The Runners had long given up on finding the mysterious person singing to them every night from somewhere in the maze, after months of thinking it couldn't be real -and that it was rather creepy-, they grew attached to the voice of this person, singing to them every night, lulling them to sleep with the few songs they would sing.

More than one got chills hearing them, some even recognized the song while others would try to memorize it and would hum along with them.

It was safe to say that listening to them was like a ritual by now. An unspoken tradition in the Glade, and they agreed that it was something they all looked forward to.

"And I was running far away, would I run off the world someday? Nobody knows," Their voice echoed in the maze, reaching them in the quietness of the night, a few sighed as they closed their eyes, snuggling in their sheets, feeling their chest warming up by just the sound of their voice, "Nobody knows, I was dancing in the rain, I felt alive and I can't complain," the Runners found themselves already drifting off to sleep like so many others that were tired from a tiring day of work, while the few that still had a bit of energy attentively listened to the voice, "But no, take me home, take me home where I belong, I can't take it anymore."

Gally blinked as he felt his throat tight, something about the raw emotion he could hear from them made him wonder what they were going through, they sang as if they felt every word they uttered, and it was rather painful.

He pressed his face further against his tattered pillow, and sighed, soon falling asleep while their singing continued, moving on to different songs with similar emotions. He couldn't help but wonder if they had a bad day or they were in a tough spot, but he fell asleep before he could keep thinking about it.

//////

The next morning, the Glade was buzzing with energy, everyone walked around and talked and laughed, excited about their new greenie coming up the next day. They made their current newbie set up their hammock but they all worked harder to have the place neat in order to have more time to meet the greenie tomorrow when they come up in the box.

With hours passing and the sun departing to leave way for the moon, everyone gathered their empty plates and gave them to the Sloppers working to have them clean and ready for the next morning. A few guys around were getting their beds and hammocks ready, while others were already laying down comfortably, silently waiting for the singing to start.

But it never did.

Something similar to worry and concern settled in their bones, in their stomachs, their minds, and their hearts, weighing them down as they started to panic slightly about the person who sang so beautifully and kept them company every night.

They couldn't stay up all night waiting for them, but the chill breeze of the night felt even colder without the sound of their voice to warm their hearts and alleviate their minds for just a few minutes.

Eventually, everyone fell asleep. Even if varied from eight hours to thirty minutes, they did get some sleep in. They still had a long day ahead of them as the new greenie was coming up in the afternoon. But it was now time to start the day.

With some people running low on sleep, the daily activities in the Glade were slow, paired with sluggish movements and frequent yawns, some even went to a sink nearby to splash cold water on their faces, helping them stay awake and alert.

There wasn't much to do while they waited for the box to come up, so they distracted themselves with stuff to do to keep themselves busy for long enough.

//////

His eyes were barely opened, seeing flashes of light around him that made him dizzy and slightly sick, feeling his head throbbing. He didn't try to open his eyes more, mainly because he couldn't, but his sight was really blurry and he didn't think it would've made much of a difference if they were fully opened or not, he just let himself be taken away.

He wasn't sure where he was, he just realized there was a little void in his mind when he tried to remember anything associated with the place he was in.

There were sounds of voices going on around him, but he couldn't understand anything, he felt... As if he was underwater, everything felt muffled and distant, he was confused and a bit scared about the situation he was currently in.

And something in his brain realized that he was laying down on a gurney, being taken somewhere he didn't know. His eyes shifted to his sides, at least four people were moving him, two on either side, and he caught a glimpse of someone above his head. His (e/c) eyes looked at everyone's blurry faces, and yet he knew a pair of eyes were looking down at him.

Their lips were moving, but he couldn't hear what they were saying, his eyes eventually closing as his consciousness faded away again.

"W.I.C.K.E.D is good."

Taking a sharp breath, his eyes opened, blinking a few times and adjusting to the lack of light. He sat up slowly, touching the ground as he pushed himself up with his palms, feeling the cold metal underneath them.

He didn't know where he was, but wherever or whatever it was, it was slowly revealing itself as his eyes got used to the darkness, and he could see that he was in some sort of metal box or crate. And that it was moving upward rather rapidly, making him feel a little dizzy and like his stomach was gonna come out of his body through his mouth.

Slowly dragging his body onto the floor, he rested his back on one of the walls of the lift, taking deep breaths to steady his pounding heart and fluttering stomach, he had a sensation of anxiety and panic setting in the pit of his stomach, so he was really trying to prevent that from becoming stronger.

He didn't know how long he's been in this lift and for how much longer he was gonna be there, but he was starting to calm down as if he... Knew he wasn't in danger, at least not yet, so he needed to sort of save his energy to escape or fight if the situation turned out to be less than pleasant.

Minutes went past and he started to doze off, disassociating from reality for a while. Well, until lights were shining inside the lift and alarms busting his eardrums. He flinched and closed his eyes, groaning in pain at the loud sounds of the alarms going off, making him cover his ears with his hands, curling in himself as he found himself somewhat safer between some wooden crates.

And then, just like how it suddenly started, the alarm was turned off, and yet, he remained still with his eyes closed, even like that, he could see the light seeping through his eyelids, the creaky sound of metal doors opening and faint murmurs going around him.

"Hey," a rather loud thump was heard and the lift shook a little under someone's weight, "Time to get out of there, greenie," figuring out the voice was referring to him, he slowly opened his eyes.

He first saw a pair of boots, some dry mud on the sides of them and a little worn, but he couldn't look for too long because he was soon met with someone's face right in front of him, making him flinch and press himself further into the wall of the lift.

"Come on, greenie, we have stuff to do and we can't do that if you don't get out," the guy reached out to him and held his forearms, forcing him up on his feet, he stumbled a bit and dusted himself off, squinting as he looked up at the boys surrounding him from the elevated spot they had outside the lift, "Someone help him out, the rest help with the supplies," a skinny and tall blond reached his hand out for him to grab, and next to him a guy with dark-colored skin and slightly robust body did the same.

Without a word, he reached up for their hands and climbed on a crate as he got taken out of that metal box, he sighed and stood straight, fixing his clothes a bit, that's when he heard it for the first time.

"It's a girl..."

He frowned and looked up at everyone, watching them as they slowly backed away, and he was confused about their reaction. A girl? Were they crazy? He's not a girl.

Mentally not at least, but his body was. There were two rather noticeable bumps on his chest, no longer hidden as he stood straight instead of being curled up on himself.

But something about the way he was being stared at made him coward in himself, feeling self-conscious about his body and the way everyone's staring felt on him, making him cross his arms over his chest and look down.

"Tell Alby we need to have a Gathering, now," the blond that helped him said, a rather charming accent in his words, and the guy he had spoken to nodded without saying anything and started running toward what seemed to be a two-story shack in the distance, "Come with me, greenie," he said with a careful and gentle tone, placing his hands hesitantly on his shoulders, making everyone around them make way as he was guided to the same shack, "We're gonna have a Keeper Gathering!" He announced loud enough for everyone to hear, and a few guys nodded before following close behind them, including the big guy that helped him out.

He didn't know what was happening, or why it was occurring this way, but he knew he was nervous and scared of the outcome of this so-called Gathering.

"Everyone who is not a Keeper is going back to work! No slacking!" He recognized the voice as the guy who jumped in with him- he really should learn their names, he probably will soon.

Various speeds of footsteps sounded around him as everyone did as told, and he still had no clue what was going on.

Walking into the shack, he caught a small glimpse of a, kinda crooked, kinda messy but well-put-together place, it appeared to be the living room or so it seems, but he couldn't observe for long since was taken further inside, into a wide room in the back of the shack. Several chairs were placed in a semi-circle, and he was taken to his seat, barely looking up as he watched out of the corner of his eyes how the remaining chairs proceeded to be occupied by someone new.

Staying still, in complete silence and avoiding eye contact, he listened to everyone discussing this current situation, someone mentioning something about the inconvenience of a girl in the glade, how it didn't make sense, and the amount of work, time and resources they would have to use to be able to ensure her safety, and privacy. He didn't like that, being referred to as a 'her' or 'she' made him feel sick.

"Things are gonna change with a girl around, and now-" tired of hearing being called that way, he stood up from his chair, catching everyone off guard when they saw his emotionless face, before hearing his voice.

"I am not a girl, and I don't need special treatment or arrangements," his voice was strong and firm, sure of what he was saying, and even though that didn't solve the problem yet, it made the majority of them sigh as they stopped their arguments.

"Well, you can leave then, greenie," the guy he learned was called Alby, said. He nodded and made his way to the door quietly, walking out of the gathering room and heading to the front door of the shack- well, Homestead as the keepers had called it.

"I guess we'll have to wait and see..." He heard a faint voice, someone who he recognized as... Winston? He wasn't too sure yet, but he had sort of memorized names with voices instead of faces.

Since he didn't have anything to do yet, he decided that walking around the Glade was gonna be better than nothing, he could get to know the place a little better as well.

His eyes look around, realizing now that he was being kept within four huge walls, although one of those is open...

His feet started taking him to it, feeling something inside him pulling him toward it, completely ignoring the mumbles around him of how he was heading to the Maze Doors.

Maze...? Coming to a stop, he decided to sit down on the grass, keeping his sight fixed far beyond the doors making a long walkway, leading to a pathway that split to right and left. Less than a minute had passed when he saw two silhouettes approaching from his left-side perspective. He couldn't stop looking at them as they approached and ran past him, looking down at him curiously.

"Hey there, greenie," the tall, long-haired blond one said, being followed by a dark brunet, who nodded at him in passing.

Something about them was familiar to him, so he kept his eyes on their back as they ran toward a concrete building with a metal door, located somewhat near the box he came out of. He wondered what was so familiar about them, when an image flashed in his mind.

The image of watching someone drowning made him flinch and grip his head in pain, groaning slightly and curling on himself again.

"Oh? You okay there, greenie?" He looked through squinting eyes at the guy next to him, crouching down to his level and showing hesitant hand movements, deciding whether he should touch him or not, "Do you uh... Need help or need anything?"

After a few seconds, he nodded, trying to stand up but struggling to as the dizziness kept coming back, accompanied by the feeling of his head pounding now.

"I have... A headache," the guy nodded and helped him up, taking him away from the maze doors.

"Okay, I got some painkillers for you, come on."

///////

Releasing a sigh, he placed the now empty cup of water on the table, feeling his body cooling down thanks to the cold water he just drank, watching Jeff put the pill bottle back in its cabinet.

They talked for a few minutes, and he learned that Jeff was a Med-jack, along with Clint, who was the Keeper. He remembers hearing him talking during the gathering, but he can't put a face to the name yet.

"Well, it may take a while, but your headache should be gone by dinner time," he hummed and nodded, sighing again and laying back on the small couch he was sitting on, "Hey, greenie..." He blinked slowly as he looked at Jeff again, who seemed a little unsure of his words, "I- uh- actually never mind, sorry."

He had a faint idea of what he wanted to say, or ask, so he showed an attempted smile Jeff's way, "I know I look like... A girl right now, but... I'm not, if that's what you were gonna say," Jeff seemed slightly taken aback, before letting out a small chuckle.

"I actually wanted to ask if you remembered your name yet, but thank you for telling me!" He added with a grin before heading to the door, "You can stay here and rest if you want, no one really comes here, anyway."

He nodded and watched Jeff's retreating frame until the door closed behind him.

Silently, he stared at a spot on the table, dozing out as he started asking himself... What's my name? Only to be completely ignored by his own subconscious. He would've tried to think about it more and try to remember it, but it only made his headache worse, so he decided against that. Maybe he'll just have to wait.

Whilst the topic of his name remained a mystery, he debated whether he should stay as Jeff offered or if he should go out, maybe show everyone else that he won't be a problem to the rest of the boys.

But of course, someone had already decided for him.

"Greenie," the distinctive voice of Gally caught his attention, and he turned toward the door, where his towering height barely fit through the doorframe, "Come with me."

He stood up obediently, not wanting to cause any more problems to anyone, especially to Gally, who had seemed the most bothered by his arrival, and followed him out of the med room and out of the Homestead, which remained empty for the most part as everyone was out and about doing their jobs.

"Your designated newbie tour guide bailed on ya, so I was told to do it instead," Gally didn't sound too happy, and he didn't know if the frown on his brow was because of the sun or annoyance at this task, "Your sleeping arrangements still have to be discussed, so this would have to do for now."

They stopped by an arrangement of hammocks tied to trees near the Homestead, keeping them covered by a roof of wood and thick sheets of hay. And he couldn't help that he felt kind of impressed by the craftsmanship he had been witnessing so far. Gally pulled on the knot around the tree trunk, making sure it was secured, and he reached for a bag on the ground near it, handing it to him.

"This bag came with you in the box, it's clear it's yours," he frowned and looked inside the bag. A black sports bra was the first thing that greeted him, alongside what seemed to be pads, he didn't wanna check for too long, but it still made his face feel a slightly bit hotter than before, "Let's go, there's stuff you need to know."

Placing the bag on top of the hammock, he followed Gally, struggling for a moment to keep up with his long strides.

"You've been to the Homestead already, there are a few rooms where some of us sleep in, there are other rooms like the Kitchen, the med room, and the Gathering room," he muttered pointing behind them as they walked somewhat along the perimeter of the glade, approaching what looked like a well-kept garden, people working left and right on it, "The gardens are where the track-hoes do their job of getting us food, fruits and vegetables," he adds, locking eyes with the tall blond with the accent, his name was Newt if he recalled correctly.

He watched them nod at each other as a greeting before getting back to his work.

They continued their way forward, and Gally signaled to what appeared to be a barn, lots of animals around, and he couldn't help but smile at the sight of the sheep and pigs, hearing the chickens and... Was that barking?

Approaching the fenced area, he saw a black labrador barking at them and jogging happily toward him. Gally watched rather impressed and confused how Bark seemed happy seeing the greenie, and hearing him barking was definitely something unusual too.

He watched with curious, squinting green eyes how Bark demanded pats from the greenie. Seeing Bark in a good mood made Gally want to pet him too, but the dog had always disliked him, which he wouldn't blame the poor dog for, he had his reasons, he guessed.

"This is the Blood House, greenie," Gally said with a monotonous tone of voice, he could hear the faint sound of Winston's butcher knife cutting through thick skin and sturdy bones, "Just... Try not to get attached to any of the animals, they tend to end up being our food."

With wide eyes, he looked at Gally, seeing something change in his eyes, but before he could understand what it was and what it meant, it was gone as he turned around and continued walking. Following after him, he realized they were walking by the concrete building where he had seen those two guys walk in, and Gally noticed the greenie's interest in it.

"That's the Map Room, where the Runners map out the Maze," he looked at Gally, who was looking toward the Maze Doors, they were still open, but a quick glance at his watch told him there was roughly an hour until they close again for the night. He wondered if he'll- they'll hear that voice tonight, "And that," getting back on topic, he pointed toward the dense woods in front of them, "It's the Deadheads, you'll understand why soon enough."

And now they were looping back around to the Homestead.

"What is that?" He asked stopping in front of a concrete cube with a barred window and a wooden door, a rusty lock hanging on the knob, leaving it open.

"That's the Slammer, although we usually call it the pit," Gally mentioned, looking back at the greenie, there was something about them that made him feel slightly curious and also a bit annoyed, although he hadn't made as many questions as he had expected, "It's like a prison, if you break the rules, you go in the pit."

That caught the greenie's attention, "And what are the rules?"

Oh... Had he really forgotten about the rules? His head was somewhere else, he'll give that excuse to himself.

"Well, rule one; everyone does their part around here, no slackers," he started saying while numbering the rules with his fingers, "Rule two; never hurt another Glader, we have to trust each other," humming, he nodded at Gally's words, the rules seemed to make sense to him, "And lastly, rule three; never go outside the Glade, unless you're a Runner," both of them looked at the ominous Maze behind the open doors, continuing their way back to the hammocks.

"Oh! Greenie!" He recognized Frypan's voice, and he turned around to see him peeking through a window of the Homestead, "Would you mind helping me around with dinner?"

He thought about it for a few seconds, before shrugging and nodding, beginning his walk toward the Keeper of the Cooks.

"And Greenie?" He looked over his shoulder as Gally called him again, he hummed in response, "You'll be working with the Slicers in the Blood House tomorrow."

And with that, he just left.

After a few seconds, he resumed his way inside and followed Fry to the kitchen.

//////

He could hear quite the commotion outside, and he couldn't help but glance out the window.

The boys had gathered around a pile of wood, hay, and rocks to make a bonfire, some of them playing some musical instruments while others danced and did acrobatics that impressed him. Fry noticed the greenie's interest and he nudged him, nodding with a smile toward the rest of the Gladers.

"Go have fun, it's your welcome party, greenbean, I'll take care of the rest," with a tight lipped-smile, he mumbled a 'thank you' before heading out the door. He smiled at the sight of everyone having fun, and he watched Newt approaching him.

"Greenie!" Newt smiled at him and gave a friendly pat on his shoulder, "Hope Fry hasn't been too rough with ya, he's bloody picky about how the food should be cooked," he chuckled at Newt's words and shrugged.

"It took a bit, but I managed," nodding in agreement, Newt took a sip of the amber liquid swirling around in his mason jar, catching his attention, "What is that?"

Newt looked down at it and showed a mischievous smirk, handing the jar to the greenie, who took it and observed it for a few seconds.

"Try it."

Hesitant but not scared, he raised the jar to his mouth, lifting his hand until the liquid slipped past his parted lips. A small taste was all he needed to drink. The strong flavour and the burning sensation down his throat told him he had drunk something containing alcohol, and he frowned at the knowledge but not memory of it. Even tho, it didn't taste half bad, it was just... A lot to take in for the first time.

He gave the jar back to Newt, who was chuckling at this reaction, his (e/c) eyes wide open in surprise.

"It's... Alright, I guess, what is it?" He muttered with a strain in his voice, a cough wanting to come out but holding it back to the best of his abilities, Newt shrugged, smiling as he took another sip.

"Ask that to Gally, it's his recipe," hearing his name made him look around, struggling to find him in the sea of heads and raised arms around, until he saw him in what seemed to be a circle, apparently fighting with another glader, "Oh? You wanna go look?"

He looked at Newt and eventually nodded, remaining silent. He and other Gladers had already realized the greenie wasn't a guy of many words.

They approached the circle, staying at a relatively safe distance to watch the encounters, and he observed Gally's moves, somehow interested in learning something from him, after all, he was called the toughest and strongest one in the Glade.

Every now and again, he would gasp in surprise and mentally cheer Gally on as fight after fight went on with the seemingly endless night, he was having fun simply standing there and watching, occasionally drinking from Newt's jar. But his peace was soon interrupted.

"What a princess we got here!" He recognized his voice, it was Billy, Keeper of the Baggers and by how slurred his words come out, it was obvious that he was drunk. Billy got closer to him, placing his arm around his shoulder without his consent, making his skin crawl at the feeling of a person's touch on them. It felt different from Newt's careful touch and Jeff's hesitant hold, it felt... Rotten. Vile. Disgusting.

"I'm not a princess-" his words were interrupted by his obnoxiously loud laughter, catching the attention of the Gladers that were surrounding Gally.

"Of course you are! Do you see anyone else packing two of these-?" Thanks to Newt's reflexes, Billy was unable to grope what wasn't his, and he looked confused at his hand, before frowning toward Newt, "She's just got here and you've already gotten in her pants, Newt?!"

No one got a chance to say anything about his comment, mainly because Gally came up and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, catching him off-guard and making him drop his jar of alcohol.

"Ready up, slinthead, time to sober the shuck up," Gally voiced getting in a fighting position, making eye contact with the greenie who was still feeling a little shaken and uncomfortable about the whole Billy situation, and he gave them a little smile, barely lifting the corners of his lips, but it was there.

I just wanna be with you, (M/n)...

A voice echoed inside the walls of his skull, bouncing back and forward, generating an echo for a few seconds, and he blinked in realization.

Is that... My name?

"Dinner's almost ready!" Frypan's voice stopped him from wondering further, there was something comforting about remembering his name but he was still unsure if it was or not, and the loud cheering around him didn't do much to help him figure it out.

It turned out Gally had won the fight, yet again, and Billy had sobered up enough to call quits before he could be swung around again, it made him chuckle as he saw the victorious, cheeky grin on Gally's face. He turned toward Newt and started walking around him, heading back to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna help Fry," Newt hummed in response as he took the last sip of his drink.

He made eye contact with Gally briefly, before disappearing into the kitchen, seeing the Cooks working around to get the last things done, and he rushed to get the plates and utensils ready to serve everyone their dinner.

A few minutes later, he and Fry were serving bowls full of Fry's stew, the smell making others jokingly groan in disgust, which made the Keeper slap their shoulder playfully, earning laughs and chuckles from them. He watched how, back at the bonfire there were some Gladers, making sure the fire was mostly put out, and cleaned up any mess they may have caused during their fights and plays, before coming to them and grabbing their plate with a tired sigh, heading to one of the tables placed around for them to eat.

When everyone had their share, the rest of the cooks grabbed their plates and sat around the only empty table, but he stayed put in the kitchen, gulping down the stew as quickly as he could while pacing around, and getting started with washing the dishes.

"Greenbean, the Sloppers can do that!" One of the cooks, Jack, said to him while coming up around him to place his empty plate atop one of several piles of them. He simply smiled and shrugged.

"It's okay, I don't mind it," he responded with a quiet tone, continuing to wash the used pots after putting the leftovers in the fridge, scrubbing the bottom of them for anything that may have burned and stuck. Jack seemed hesitant about what to do, but he patted the greenie's shoulder before leaving for bed.

He sighed as he finished washing the second pot and someone took it, a cloth on his hand as he started drying it. He didn't know who he was, but he guessed it was a Slopper, so he didn't say anything and continued washing, soon being surrounded by more guys who helped him, although he had a feeling that they only did it because they were supposed to and not out of the kindness of their heart.

Even so, thanks to them, the dishes were done pretty quickly, and now they could also head to bed.

He sat on his hammock and started gently swinging himself on it, he looked down at himself, and felt his body itching a little bit at the feeling of his sweaty and dirty clothes, even if he hadn't done much for the hours he's been there, so he decided to try and find something in his bag that he could wear to sleep just to feel a little more comfortable.

He found a sleeveless gray hoodie and black capri-length pants, he decided it was enough so he reached the back of his shirt and pulled it off his body, rolling his eyes at the sounds of boys 'ooh-ing' behind him. He put the hoodie on quickly and kicked his boots off, raising his hips just enough to take his pants off before sliding them down his legs as he remained sat on the hammock, grabbing the new pants and putting them on just as fast.

He closed the bag and put it on the ground next to his hammock, the clothes he had worn resting on top of it, and he got comfortable, unfolding the sheet he was provided and covering his legs up to his waist, facing away from everyone, glancing up at the Glade, the bonfire was fully out and there were only a few lights on around, but the moon was the one mostly illuminating the place.

He rocked himself to sleep, just now realizing how tired his body and mind felt, closing his eyes and sighing as he heard a voice mumbling his name in the back of his mind.

[partypoisonzz]

passenger princess (90s!trey parker x fem!reader)

Thanks to my beloved mutual @sqiblet for the title and inspiring the concept with a message they sent me a week or so ago.

Content:

- Road head (woohoo)

- Mean!Trey

- Degradation AND praise kinks

- Hair pulling

- Everyone's a switch and nothing hurts (except for when it's meant to)

Word Count: 2,826

Disclaimer: This explicit story was written by an adult for consumption by other adults only. If you are under 18, please do not read or interact in any way.

Hope you enjoy.

- Pen

-

You shift in the passenger seat, eyes opening slowly. Squinting at the clock on the dash through the dark, you find that it is currently 10:47 PM.

Jesus, you think as you blink and stretch. I've been asleep for over four hours.

You straighten in your seat, turning to look at your boyfriend as he stops at a red light. Even in the dim light from the road, you can see that Trey looks tired, and no wonder.

The two of you threw a handful of your belongings into the trunk of his car before the sun rose this morning and started driving out to California. You're headed to some cheap little apartment that you've never even seen in person because Trey and Matt rushed to sign the lease as soon as they finished the walkthrough. You don't know exactly what to expect. You just know that your life as you've known it all these years is done, and you're starting over.

You should be scared shitless, but you aren't. You owe all of that to the guy in the driver's seat. 

A drowsy smile comes over your face. It might not be smart, but you would follow him anywhere. Once school was over and the first movie was out, the possibility of success seemed all the more real. It just wouldn't be too easy to find in Colorado. When he suggested pooling some money together and heading towards LA sooner rather than later, he was only met with agreement from Matt and Dian. And you, of course. 

Now the four of you have a one-bedroom apartment waiting for you on the outskirts of the city. It's real, and it all could be the world's dumbest flight of fancy, but you can't bring yourself to worry about it right now. 

Not when your boyfriend looks so fucking beautiful in the glow of the traffic light. 

"Hey," you rasp out, throat still scratchy from your nap. 

He glances over at you, shooting you a tired smile. "Good morning," he says, despite the fact that you still have a little over an hour to go before midnight. "How'd you sleep?" 

"As good as I can in a car." Taking note of the dark circles forming under his eyes, you ask: "Do you want to switch off again?" 

He shakes his head, loose strands of his newly-bleached hair falling over his face. "Nah," he says. "We've only got a few more miles 'til the rest stop. Then we can stop for the night." 

You frown. "You sure? You look like you're about to fall asleep…"

"I'll be fine," he assures you. His free hand lands on your thigh as the light changes, squeezing as the car creeps back into motion. "As long as I have you to keep me awake, I'll be good."

You grin, reveling in the feeling of his fingers against your skin. You find yourself wishing he would dig them in just a little bit harder, leave behind some of those pretty bruises you love so much. Reminders of who you belong to. "Keep you awake, huh?" you ask. "How?"

"Talk to me," he responds easily. Try as he might to play coy, you are keenly aware of his hand climbing higher and higher up your leg, stopping at the seam of your shorts before traveling back down. "Have any interesting dreams?" 

You laugh. "Do you want me to be honest or make one up?"

"Hmm… Honesty first."

"We made it to the apartment," you tell him. "We were unpacking. It was a dumpy little place, but I was just so happy that it was ours."

"Mmm-hmm." He gives your thigh a slight squeeze. "And what about the more interesting one?" 

You bite back a laugh as your own hand travels across the center console, stopping to hover over his zipper. "I found a more fun way to keep you awake." 

You can tell that he's struggling not to look down at where your hand is going, wondering if you're getting at what he suspects. "And what was that?" 

With that, your hand meets denim. "I blew you while you were driving."

Before he can try to suppress it, a groan breaks up from the back of his throat. "Shit," he curses.

A spark of satisfaction runs through you, noting that he's already getting hard before you even start moving your hand. It really doesn't take much. "You didn't seem tired anymore, that's for sure." You manage to keep your voice level as you palm him through his jeans, hiding the fact that you're getting wet at the mere thought of it. "Only problem was you only had one hand on the wheel. The other one was on the back of my head, pushing me further down onto your cock." You laugh. "We made a real mess, too. I tried to swallow it all, but…"

Your words drift off as he finally digs his fingers into your skin, biting out an order. "Shut up." 

Though the dominance in his tone makes your heart flutter, you continue your teasing. "Wanna do it for me?" 

"Fuck." The hand that was resting on your leg falls away, reaching to undo your seatbelt. "Come here." 

You hesitate. It's always fun to get him hot and bothered, then piss him off. All the better outcome for you. "You really think you'll be able to concentrate on the road while I'm sucking you off?" 

"Yeah, I will," he snaps. "Just get over here and…"

"Okay, okay." You lean over the center console, contorting yourself in a less-than-comfortable position. Though it's really only a mild inconvenience, you opt to put on for just a bit longer. See how wild you can drive him before getting down to it. "You know… This is sort of an awkward position…"

"Don't care," he cuts you off. "Just… Fucking…"

"Shouldn't you be a bit more patient?" you chastise him, even though you're already tugging down his zipper. 

He huffs. "Shouldn't you be a little less of a fucking tease?" He freezes, shivering slightly under your touch as you quickly manage to snap the button on his jeans and tug them down. 

Though you know he isn't looking at you, you smile up at him, anyway. "You know that you love it, baby," you coo, planting your hands against his trembling thighs. "Look at you. You try to be all mean, but you're fucking shaking for me." 

His jaw clenches. You know he's about to say something that would probably hurt your feelings if you weren't so damn turned on. Before he can, you grab ahold of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers, inspiring a desperate gasp as he involuntarily bucks his hips up into your hand.

You laugh. Suddenly, you're the mean one. "See? You can try to take control all you want, but at the end of the day you're just my good boy." 

Your eyes flicker back up to take in his expression, only for heat to pool in your belly. 

Yeah. You've really done it now. 

Though he's obviously flustered, it's all the more apparent that he's pissed off. You love this struggle that the two of you regularly engage in, the constant question of who will be the first to give in and let the other have their way with them. 

Tonight, you had no intention of winning this struggle. You just wanted to see how much it would take to push him over the edge. 

When he stops at the next light, you know for sure that you've reached that point. His hand momentarily leaves the steering wheel, pulling his pants down the rest of the way while the fingers of his other hand curl beneath your jaw, holding your head in place. "You and your smart fucking mouth," he spits. "I'm gonna give you something else to do with it."

Just like that, any semblance of dominance leaves you. You find yourself whimpering, relishing the force of his touch. "Please."

He laughs. "Please?" he echoes. "Baby, you don't have to beg." He releases your jaw, his left hand returning to the steering wheel as his right settles on the back of your neck. You swear you could melt into the seats as he presses down. "Just fucking take it."

With those words, you do exactly as you were told.

He groans as you wrap your lips around him, tongue running over the side of his cock. You cast your eyes up again just in time to see him catch himself after leaning back against the headrest as his left hand curls back around the steering wheel. "There we go," he chokes out as he straightens his posture. 

You feel a rush of heat between your thighs as his hand moves from your neck to your hair. Now that he has you where he wants you, his forcefulness has melted away into tenderness. "That's my good girl," he praises you as you lick back up the side and over his head. You moan around him at the affectionate name, inspiring a breathy chuckle. 

"You like that, don't you?" he asks. "Yeah, you do. My desperate little good girl, sucking my cock to keep me awake while I drive."

The car begins to move again as you continue to work him. By this point, you have each other memorized, knowing exactly what sends one another over the edge. You know exactly where to press your tongue, when to hollow your cheeks around him, how fast to go. It's familiar, but it isn't boring by any stretch of the imagination. You're just waiting for the reward of making him come, — a privilege that never gets old. 

You could never get tired of his voice, either. You swear that every word and sound that leaves his mouth makes you wetter, spurring you on. 

Despite the fact that his eyes are focused on the road, Trey sounds just as thoroughly debauched as if you were kneeling in front of the couch. Each desperate groan inspires you to slow down, drawing out every repeated movement as the salty taste of precome meets your tongue. 

"Fuck," he curses as you swirl your tongue around his head at a frustratingly slow pace. "Thought you were done being a little tease…" His complaint is cut off by a gasp as you abruptly take him all the way down. 

His fingers tangle in your hair as a desperate, high-pitched sound escapes his mouth. Finally, he reaches the back of your throat, eliciting a gag.

"Holy shit, baby." You feel his thighs shaking beneath your hands again as he forces out the breathy curse. He lets out another sharp gasp as you momentarily lift your head, only to lower yourself back down, constricting around him again with a quiet choked sound.

With that, his desperate moan turns into a growl. "That's what you want, huh?" he asks. "You want me to fuck your throat?" 

You bob your head again, resulting in another gag, followed by an affirmative hum. 

He laughs, fingers running absentmindedly over your scalp. "Pretty little slut," he mutters before bucking his hips up against your mouth. 

Tears prick at your eyes as you gag again. The growing warmth between your legs causes you to shift a bit, squeezing your thighs together in an attempt to satisfy your growing desire to be touched. 

Each buck is harsh, though the violence of your gag reflex's response lessens over time. Even still, Trey's hand in your hair and the sounds that he makes are enough to leave you whimpering, shifting against the seat desperately. 

"Such a good fucking slut for me… Oh, fuck…" He rolls his hips up again, causing your throat to tighten at the same time that your walls clench around nothing. You can feel him, pulsing and twitching in your mouth, letting you know that he's getting close. 

The way his hand tightens in your hair confirms this suspicion. You moan as he collects a handful of hair and harshly tugs before pushing you back down on him. "Is this what you wanted?" he asks through a series of strained groans. "Wanted me to use you? Wanted me to treat you like my own little fuckdoll?" 

You try to hum an agreement, only for an unintelligible sound to break up from your throat. 

He laughs. The combination of affection and condescension makes you even wetter. "Don't talk with your mouth full, baby." He pushes your head down again, resulting in another choked sound. 

You focus on breathing through your nose as each push of his hips gets faster and his groans grow louder and more desperate. 

"I'm gonna come," he announces. "Gonna fill up your pretty little mouth…" 

He gives your hair an especially harsh pull as he releases with a loud, shaking groan. You let out a quiet, desperate sound as warm come fills your mouth, swallowing around him as he rides out his orgasm. 

Finally, he relaxes back against the seat with an unsteady sigh. "Fuck…" His fingers relax in your hair, going back to stroking gently as your breathing begins to even out. "You okay, baby?" 

You nod as you pull away, running your hand across your mouth as you swallow once more. "Yeah," you choke out, voice slightly rough. 

He hums in reply as he flicks on his turn signal, turning into a convenience store parking lot. 

He pulls the car into a dimly-lit parking space before reaching for the glove compartment. He comes up with a stack of fast food napkins. He uses one to clean himself up before fixing his pants. Discarding the first napkin, he turns towards you. "C'mere, hon." 

You scoot closer to him, allowing him to begin wiping at your face. 

You lean slightly into his hand as he cleans up the mascara-tinged tear streaks and mixture of come and drool. "You weren't kidding," he comments as he grabs another napkin. "We really do make a mess together."

Finally, he deems his work satisfactory, crumpling the last napkin before gently cupping your face in both hands. He presses a gentle kiss against your lips before pulling back, running his thumb against your cheek. "So good for me," he says. "I love you."

You smile, resting your forehead against his. "Love you, too."

You stay there like that for a moment before he gently pats your cheek. "Let's go get something to eat, hmm?" he says. "My treat."

-

You sit your selection of various snacks aside, grabbing a large cup from the stack next to the soda fountain. As you fill the cup up with ice, you feel a familiar pair of arms snake around your waist. 

You smile as Trey rests his chin on your shoulder, holding you as though you were standing in your own kitchen and not some random convenience store in the middle of the night. "Find anything you like?" he asks.

You lean back into him, pulling your cup away from the ice dispenser. "Mmm-hmm."

"Good." He kisses your forehead as he pulls away. "I'll be able to actually spoil you one day. I promise." 

Warmth blooms in your chest at that thought. You don't care if the spoiling part ever comes to fruition. Just the promise of one day is enough for you, assuring you that, whatever the future holds, you'll be doing it together. 

-

He doesn't let you drive the rest of the way to the rest stop. "Just a few minutes," he tells you. "Then we can both get some sleep."

Soon enough, you're parked in the parking lot, hulking trucks on all sides. The two of you climb into the backseat, where Trey takes off his jacket and folds in his lap. "Here."

You lay your head in his lap with a contented sigh, allowing him to go back to playing with your hair. You close your eyes, leaning into his touch.

"Do you want me to, ah… Do anything for you?" he asks quietly.

You laugh, shaking your head. "We'll be at the apartment tomorrow. Matt and Dian won't be up here for a few days. We'll have plenty of time." You laugh. "Too many creepy old truckers here."

"I'd make those truckers look the other fucking way…" 

You swat at him lazily. "Shut up. I know you can't fight."

"For you, I could." 

You look up at his dark-circled eyes and make an incredulous sound. "I don't think you could even stay awake for long enough."

"For you, I could," he repeats. He reaches for your hand and pulls it up to his lips. Your eyes flutter as he plants a gentle kiss against your fingers. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too." You close your eyes, feeling yourself beginning to drift off. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Even with your eyes closed, you can hear the smile in his voice. "Yeah," he says. "Tomorrow."

Another promise to soothe you to sleep. 

[stillxnunpxidintern]

Part Two - Ace x Reader - Leave The Falling To A Professional

(Title might change)

Part 1

It had been nearly a week after the incident at the cliff and the Whitebeard pirates had been working none stop to find the person that was reasonable for you & Ace being put in that position.

At the same time some of the crew had to stop Ace from trying to finding and killing them himself, by keeping him on the Moby and doing things so he would be kept busy when he wasn't by your side in the infirmary.

While you remained unconscious, different crew members had stopped by to see how you doing when they had a few spare moments.

They were starting to miss your laughter and random singing while working, as well as you scowling your many siblings when they did something stupid. Some of the newer ones to the crew were starting to see just how much your penance was always around now that you weren't around currently.

During this time Ace had come to realization that he was in love with you and every time he looks at you, unmoving, all he could see was you plummeting down into the water had and knowing he wasn't able to help you.

Had it not been for Vista and Jozu, he would of needed to be fished out by someone as well as he wanted to jump in after you, even though he knew it was pointless he still wanted to save you.

For the first time since the fall you started to show signs of waking. It began in the morning when Ace was sitting next you, holding your hand when he felt the first twitch followed by a second one not soon after, he then called out loudly for one of the nurse and Marco to come.

After checking out your vitals, Marco explained that you were on the way to waking up but there was no way to say how long it would take, it could be a couple of hours to possible another week or so before you woke up, so all they could do was wait as it was all up to you now, as to when you chose to wake up.

So over the next 12 hours following twitching of your hand, you showed a couple more signs of small movements but it was that night when the biggest change came, with Ace still sitting by your bedside telling you more stories of his childhood with brothers, as a noise caught his attention and stopped mid-story as he lent over the bed and stroked your hair,

“Come on gorgeous, time to wake up and show me them pretty eyes” Ace spoke softly, watching your face closely as your eyes began to move more behind your eyelids.

It took about another half hour before you began to wake up and spoke for the first time in nearly a week what felt like music to his ears.

“Ace” you slurred, as you slowly begin to open your eyes, looking around the room trying to work out where she was.

“Nice of you to join us again” He teased lightly, taking a glass from the table and pressed it against your lips, as you took a couple of slips of it before pushing the glass away, then looked up Ace as he placed the glass the table.

“What happened?” you asked him.

Looking down at you, Ace felt something bubble up inside him as he went to yell at you for being stupid and letting your hand slip free of his, as he remembered you falling and him screaming your name, but he lost most of his anger knowing that he couldn’t yell at you, at least not while recovering.

“You fell from the cliff top, so it seems you’ve been spending too much time with Thatch and Haurta, it seem their stupidity is rubbing off on you” he said and he needed to blame someone that wasn't himself him, and those two were all always around you, so they were getting it even.

He called out to Tate and Marco saying you were awake before sitting down in the chair again,

“Just don’t anything stupid like that again, leave it to someone like Namur to would be fine falling into the water cause he's a fishman” Ace said to you.

Both Marco and Tate came in, began checking you over while Ace moved away, to allow them more room to work as they checked to make sure you hadn't anything to your back and by making you move your toes.

When they were content with the tests they did to leave rest of them to the following morning after when you had proper sleep and not unconscious.

When it was just the two of you again, he sat back down next you and just stared you, taking your hand in his as he gave it a squeeze.

"Please don’t do anything like that again I mean it, I don’t know what I’ll do without you” he pleaded softly, as he stood up and lent over you, pressing a kiss in to crown of your head.

Soon your eyes began to drop as a wave tiredness swept over you and the last words you heard before sleep took you again were.

“I love you ”