#their wasted potential keeps me up at night sweating

[alishasboe]

✩ endless list of favourites ✩

Sayid Jarrah & Shannon Rutherford (Lost)  ❝Everyone gets a new life on this island. I'd like to start now.❞

[ellethespaceunicorn]

The Howling of Claw Creek Forest, Chapter Four

Chapter Four: Unbridled Instincts

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Pairing: Werewolf!Walter Marshall x Reader

Word Count: 3.4K

Series Summary: You live in a small town called Claw Creek, surrounded by a deep, dark forest. Since you were a kid, an urban legend of the creature in the woods has been told. If the distant howls at night and mutilated livestock are anything to go by, you fear the stories to be true.

Chapter Summary: There is a time to wait and a time to act. You and Walter fuck around and find out what time it is.

Warnings: masturbation (f), slight voyeurism, oral sex (f receiving), slight brat taming (if you squint), hint of choking, monster fucking, unprotected p-in-v sex, creampie, mentions of ovulation, biting, knotting, breeding kink

A/N: A special thank you to @peyton-warren for being my lovely beta and soundboard for this. Without her help, this chapter would have been a complete fucking nightmare. I adore you, Peyton!!!

Dividers by me

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

Series Masterlist

My Masterlist

But your brain goes back to this morning. Walter’s arms around you. His scent is fresh on you. If you could keep extra quiet, you’re sure you can crank one out without waking the beast downstairs.

Right?

At first, it’s the temperature. The fever from a fast-healing wound. Plus the warmth from being near a potential mate. He sheds his clothing during the night. Eventually, he has to remove his boxer briefs, as the material is just too tight on his sweat-soaked skin.

Then, it’s the hint of sweat as he inhales. The sweet, tangy taste of it clouds his nostrils causing him to stir in his slumber. 

Next, the overwhelming lure of arousal that pheromones release like tentacles attaching themselves to him. 

Lastly, the sound of a rising heart rate pounds in his ears. It all screams your name.

Opening his eyes, he gets his bearings on where he is. A living room. Pup’s. 

Whimpering from your bedroom catching him by surprise, he isn’t able to stop himself from shifting. 

His hands grow longer with claws, dense fur, and thick, black padding on his palms. His legs and feet contort and reshape into the hind legs of a wolf. A fluffy tail pushes its way down and out of his spine. His broad chest is covered in the same dark chocolate pelt, the color of his human hair. Arms fill out with hairy musculature. His nose and mouth form a small snout and his teeth sharpen and elongate. His beard and hair grow a bit wilder around his ears now resemble those of a wolf high on his head, completing his transformation.

Once he hears you whimper again, he springs over the back of the couch, lands on his hind legs, and bounds up the stairs taking them two at a time. He sniffs the air as he gets closer to your bedroom door. He can smell it as plain as day.

You’re aroused. And when you whisper his name, the heavy weight between his legs becomes harder to ignore. Reaching a hand down, he squeezes the base of his veiny, mammoth cock near his knot. The bright red tip is already leaking, and his swinging balls yearn to be emptied.

His slow steps, punctuated with claws against the wood floor, finally reach your door. Wasting no time, he swings the door open, catching you with your fingers in your pussy and your nightgown around your tits.

Somehow you don’t hear or see him come into the room, so wrapped up in chasing your orgasm. He uses your ignorance of your surroundings to his advantage and walks to the side of your bed. Looking over your body, his instincts take over. He sniffs the surrounding air, sensing that you are ovulating and ready to be bred. You had the perfect body to carry strong pups.

He could see it already, your full tits and round belly with a kid on your hip and one running around you. He would keep you nice and pregnant as much as you could stand it. 

“Walter, eat my pussy...please, I’ve been a good girl,” you murmur, eyes still closed while your finger circles and teases your clit.

A deep rumble in the room alerts you, the growl from deep in Walter’s chest sending a chill up your spine. You look up at him covered in fur and larger than before and your first thought isn’t to scream or hide your body. Giving in to his natural sexiness, you want nothing more than to worship him.

Turning on the bed so that your cunt is facing him, you beg him, “Please, Walter?” Every thought about waiting is long gone from your head.

Within seconds, Walter is on his knees at the edge of the bed while his mauve tongue hungrily hangs out of his muzzle. His hands hold your legs out of the way so that his nose can ghost over your folds. Inhaling its wet arousal, exhaling warm air from his lungs across your most sensitive parts. 

When you reach a hand to the top of his head, his eyes close momentarily as he pushes into your palm. Once you scratch at his ear, he lets out a groan deeply from his chest again, he picks his head up slightly to lick from your delicate petals to your swollen nub. 

While he uses his tongue to explore your cavernous deep, his thumb rubs against your clit. Tongue brought to a point, where he strokes inside you, and he finally attacks your inner bundle of nerves. You watch as he gently cups your mound. 

Withdrawing his tongue, he licks at his maw. He picks up the pace of his thumb on your clit. Your mewls, piercing his ears and wrapping around his heart. He stands to lick at your neck’s pulse point, nipping and whimpering into your skin. 

One hand caresses you leaving the other to explore other places. His giant paw finds your neck, squeezing slightly while you stare into his glowing eyes. He seems to be willing you over the edge, his stare forcing your body closer to completion.

“Come. For me,” he forces out, the words sounding distorted in this body.

And that is the little push you need. Along with the paw gripping your neck, the tongue lapping at your skin, the finger flicking your bean, and the command in that gravelly rasp. The longing in those words is too much for your resolve to hold even a moment longer.

“Walter,” his name a breathless whisper on your lips as your climax takes you over.

Your eyes roll into your head as your back arches. Hands rushing out to his, one at your throat and the other stilling on your clit. Your walls twitch and flex around nothing, pushing your sweet nectar out of your hole.

You watch as he collects your wetness and brings his sticky palm to wrap around the leaking, red erection that now has your attention. Its shiny surface has you wanting to lick it like a lollipop and Walter watches as you wet your lips in anticipation. But it’s far too sensitive for that kind of attention right now.

Instead, Walter gets on the bed between your legs. He raises your ankles to place them on his shoulders, leaning forward, so his face is inches from yours. You’re being folded like a pretzel and you couldn’t be happier as you feel the pointy tip of his cock teasing through your lips. 

It slides up and down from your clit to your hole over and over, as if he doesn’t want to give you what you crave most. You’re so close to the edge, if he doesn’t push inside you in the next few seconds, you are going to scream!

He rips the nightgown from your body, not that it covers you in any way. He didn’t want to leave anything between you. No clothing, no barriers, just your bodies and whatever sounds you made together.

It is then that he pushes himself inside you, slowly, inch by inch. He works himself into your walls, letting you adjust to the shape and size. So kind of him to take you apart with the speed of a snail. Once he is seated inside you as fully as this position will allow, he grabs both hands and holds them in one paw above your head. You nod, silently pleading for him to move.

“Make you mine,” he promises, the hefty growl reverberating through your chest. His hips retract and come back to meet yours, his canine cock filling you to the brim. 

“Wanna be all yours, Walter. Please,” you breathe, ready to be fucked open by him.

The answering groan is all you get before Walter is snapping his hips back and forth inside you. With your arms unable to move, you instead try to move your legs down off his shoulder to wrap around his waist. He gets the hint soon enough, only slowing down slightly, then returning to a punishing pace when your heels are digging into his ass.

He shifts his angle a bit to hover his face above yours as he leans forward. When he slides home, he can bump against your clit. Grinding his pelvis against yours, he easily brings forth your next orgasm, he is not surprised when the base of his cock is nice and wet from your eruption. He pulls out after fucking you through your orgasm.

Sitting back on his heels, one hand slowly stroking his length, he looks down at you. Blissfully fucked out, almost asleep, cock-drunk. Too bad for you, he’s not done. Before you can register what’s happening, Walter is turning you on your stomach and putting a pillow under your hips. Straddling you, he enters you smoothly, your walls molding to him. He lays his chest against your back, both arms enfolding you. One around your waist while the other hand wraps around your neck.

“Mine,” he whispers, lips snarling next to your ear, “Say it, Pup.” He only grinds his hips against yours, not fully fucking you yet.

“Yours,” you huffed, trying to find your voice with the weight of him bearing down on you.

“Louder. Can’t hear you,” he demands, he begins tugging his hips back slowly only to push in even slower.

“Yours! I’m yours...Wolfie,” you hum, holding in your bratty laugh for all of three seconds until it’s cut off when Walter tightens his grip on you. 

He widens his legs on either side of yours, his toes digging into the mattress for leverage. From this angle, he can fuck right into your sweet spot while his heavy, full balls swing back and forth into your clit.

Your squeaks and moans punctuate each thrust, and it’s music to Walter’s sensitive ears. Your groans and squeals cause his ears to twitch, your elevated heart rate lets him know he’s doing all the right things. 

And he certainly is doing all the right things.

It almost wasn’t fair that your first time with him was in wolf form. But as good as this feels, you just feel like human sex may end up a bit lackluster. Which is not what you should be thinking right now with him turning your insides to mincemeat.

He must sense that you were getting distracted, growling lowly in your ear. Dragging his wet nose along your neck, he inhales deeply. He unhurriedly licks at the sweat dripping from behind your ear, his tongue trailing up around the lobe and shell.

His hips start to stutter, and whines in the back of his throat are forced out. You can feel the sudden fullness of his cock as he pushes in even deeper than before. His tip is pressing into your cervix and the pressure is almost too much. As you feel his length twitch, warm jets of cum paint your walls. 

He growls again and bites the nape of your neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to keep you still while his knot settles in place. It felt like a plug just inflated inside you and you feel the fullest you’ve ever been. You try to reach your arms back to grab at him in any way you can. Feeling held in place at two points of contact was just too much.

You try curling inward to relieve the pressure in your pussy, but Walter painfully wails and bites down on your neck harder. You realize both you and Walter are in pain with his knot stuck inside you. 

You take a second to get yourself together. Getting your breathing under control, you can calm down Walter enough to slow the blood flow rushing toward his knot. When he releases your neck, he licks and soothes at the marks left behind.

Once he can slip out of you, he unhooks his arms from around you. His hands hold you open, so he can see if he hurt you. You’re more than flattered when he licks over your fucked-out little hole, but you push him away once he goes for your still-sensitive nub. 

“Too much,” you mumble, rolling over and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. Walter moves to follow you, but you push him back to lie down. “I’m ok, Wolfie. Just going to the bathroom to freshen up. You stay in bed and keep it warm for me.” 

You watch as his brows grow concerned, but he pulls up the comforter over himself and your side of the bed. You thank him and head to use the bathroom. While you sit and relieve yourself, you think about how aroused you were for Walter. You didn’t just want him, you needed him. You haven’t had an attraction like that in ages, if ever. Likewise, you didn’t necessarily plan on having him cum inside you, but once it was an option, you didn’t exactly stop him from pushing deeper inside you.

And then there was the knot. Granted, you had done some research on werewolf anatomy, so you weren’t surprised by the knot. But the length of time it was in you, how big it was, that wasn’t in any of the articles you had stumbled upon. 

Also not mentioned? The hyperspermia, which could just be a Walter thing, but it seems like a wolf thing too. You felt so full of his cum and you had already pushed out so much of it. You will be surprised if he doesn’t get you pregnant, and you don’t know what it means when that only brings a smile to your face. What the hell…

Yeah, you might have it bad for this man. 

Or you’re flying high on the level of dopamine coursing through your veins from the number of orgasms Walter has given you.

They can both be true at the same time. 

You realize you’ve been in the bathroom for quite some time, and your legs start to grow numb. You wipe, flush, and stand on wobbly legs to wash your hands. Splashing water on your face, you steady your nerves to go back and be with the wolf that fucked you silly.

You open the door, turn to shut off the light and walk right into Walter. Standing outside the door with his hand raised, ready to knock and check on you.

The oof that escapes your lips compels strong hands to your biceps to steady you on your feet. The feel of bare human skin on yours is comforting and familiar. You look up and notice the frown on Walter’s face, knitted brows sit above fretful aquamarine eyes.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his human face now back in place along with the rest of his body.

“Oh, that? I’m fine. Just need to watch where I’m walking,” you smile, trying to reassure Walter’s concern.

“I meant, more along the lines of whether you’re hurt. It’s just, I have this pull. This...intuition. All I want to do is take care of you. It’s all I can think about,” he confesses, sliding his hands down your arms to grab your hands, “Would you let me look you over just so I can see you’re alright?”

You open your mouth to tell him you feel amazing, but you close it just quickly. He wants to make sure he doesn't go too far, and you respect that. If you think about it, it’s possibly the hottest bit of aftercare you could ever have.

You nod, welcoming his assessment. He moves you more into the bathroom and turns on the light again. He examines your wrists, but seeing a bit of redness doesn’t alarm him. Inspecting your neck where his teeth sank into you, he’s delighted to not see any broken skin, but there will be heavy bruising there if you don’t apply ice to it soon enough. Thankfully, your clothing should cover up most of the area.

Seeing his heartsick eyes look over your neck in the mirror causes you to turn around and hold his face in both hands. His hands come up to cradle yours, your eyes finally grabbing his attention.

“Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours. I can hear the gears turning, Wolfie,” you plead, hoping that he will illuminate you with his thoughts.

He sighs, and you can tell he doesn’t want to worry you. You can also tell he’s becoming weak to your suggestions, seemingly wanting to do whatever pleases you.  

“Need to get ice for your neck, or it’ll bruise,” he mutters, looking down before continuing, “We haven’t known each other long and I already feel protective over you. Hearing your breathing, recognizing your scent. It felt like you were in danger, and I shifted. Then, seeing you...like that, I needed to claim you. I haven’t felt that in so long, it’s like I’d forgotten the intensity that comes along with it. My wolf brain took over and instinctually, my body reacted the only way it knew how.”

“What do you mean?” you breathe, your brows scrunching together.

“I could smell that you were ovulating and all I wanted, all I could think of, was to breed you. The fact that I didn’t give you a choice...it weighs heavily on me,” he admits, taking a deep breath before starting again, “I shouldn’t have taken that from you. I would understand if you never want to see me again after that.”

The distraught look on his face makes you believe that he thinks the worst of himself. That only makes you want to fight whatever demons put that thought into his head.

“I’ll be honest, I did intend on waiting a little longer before taking things further. But, there is something about you. Probably sounds weird, but I have a pull toward you too. Like, this invisible string that’s tied around my rib cage, and every time I’m near you, I feel it tugging. I feel the urge to touch you, to feel your skin on mine,” you confess, feeling a weight lifted off your shoulders knowing that you both were struggling with staying away from each other.

“So, we both feel this connection. What do we do now? What can I do for you?” he prods, his hands moving to your sides as yours weave in his curls.

“Well, the good news is that we don’t need to figure this all out right now. We know how we feel about each other, and that’s most important. So, for now, we can do one thing,” you offer, a smile playing on your lips.

“And what’s that, Pup?” he wonders aloud, thumbs pressing into your hips.

Foregoing speaking, you stand up on tiptoes to press your lips against Walter’s. A chaste kiss or two gives way to open mouths and tongues getting into the mix. You hum into his mouth, and he answers with a groan. The grip on your hips tightens and his length grows against your thigh. 

You feel him dip to grab and lift you under your thighs, and you wrap your legs around him. When he breaks from the kiss, his nose nuzzles your cheek and neck as he inhales your potent scent of arousal. He turns to shut out the light before exiting the bathroom and taking you back into the bedroom.

Laying you down, he hovers over you and smiles lazily down at you. When he doesn’t say anything for a beat, you roll your eyes and sigh.

“What are you smiling at, Wolfie?” you tease, secretly loving how he looks at you like you hung the moon.

He opens his mouth to answer, but instead, he nudges your nose with his before peppering a trail of kisses over your cheek, chin, and neck. Using one hand to position himself at your opening, he collects some of your moisture to help slide in. Slowly, agonizingly he enters you. 

Once seated inside, he grinds his hips against yours. He wants to take it slow this time. You want nothing more than to give yourself to him in any way you can. Everything else can wait until the morning.

To be continued...

A/N: Ok, so about that whole ‘let’s wait’ thing...um, I got this idea in my head that this is where this would all happen. And Reader and Walter didn’t seem upset about it so, yeah.

(Also, if you are upset about fictional characters not using protection, please use that anger and either register to vote in the next election or contact your state representative to see how you can help make sure safe sex education can be taught in schools in your area. Didn't think you would get political advice in this author's note, didja??)

A/N 2: Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter and have a wonderful day!!

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[sirthisisa-wendys]

ohhhh i really like things like submission (sub!reader), omega!reader, some really light stuff like that, u know...? maybe with big boys like benkei, taiju, hanma, takeomi (💀), shinichiro and south 🥺🥺

Playing With The Big Boys (Part 1) : Keizo Arashi/ Takeomi Akashi/ Taiju Shiba x Fem!Reader

an omegaverse! fic wherein the boys teach you a lesson and tame you in their own special way. Shuji Hanma, Shinichiro Sano and South Terano will be in part 2 along with anyone else you all want!

wc: 1k

tw: smut

masterlist

Keizo Arashi - Alpha

"Head up that hill."

Sweat pours down your back as you grumble, taking the fifty or so steps up the hill with only your water bottle to accompany you. Keizo is right behind you - probably to make sure that you don't turn around and take off - and his face is grim. "Being an Omega isn't all fun and games."

"I never said it was."

"Keep talking," Keizo grunts. "I'll make you go back down the trail and then come back up." You stifle your grumbling and continue up the steep incline, taking a drink of water every so often.

When you finally make it to the top, you're enclosed by a few tall trees, and the trail disappears entirely.

"What now?" you wonder, turning to face Keizo. The Alpha steps forward and takes your hips in his hands, smirking.

"Now, you get your reward for making it up here."

You never thought having sweaty, messy sex would be enjoyable, but the thrill of potentially being caught fucking your mate in the woods heightens your pleasure. Keizo dominates you from above, his balls slapping against your pussy while he drives into you. "Good girls get rewarded," he repeats, holding your wrists in one of his hands. "You like this, little Omega?"

You keen softly, angling your hips upward and meeting him thrust for thrust. "I'm gonna squirt," you hiss, and suddenly, the memory of all the water you'd consumed returns to you.

"Perfect," Keizo replies, picking up his speed. "Want you to squirt all over me, pretty girl." You can only hold out for so long before your release, shivering as your squirt drenches Keizo's lower half. Keizo grunts and coos at you, the sound adding to the sloppy sucking sounds of your pussy being entirely ruined by his cock. He cums a moment later, not wasting a single drop as he buries his cock inside you.

When your breath and sanity have returned, Keizo slowly unfurls himself from you but still lets his cock remain inside. "We'll wait for my knot to go down," he murmurs, huffing softly as he nuzzles your neck and kisses your lips. "You did so good for me. I'm proud of you."

Takeomi Akashi - Beta

Takeomi hates coming home tired. Work drains the life out of him, but it's even worse when he's looking forward to spending time with you but worn out from the day's events.

"You can't cancel our night again," you pout, eyebrows furrowed. "You hate being mated to me, don't you?" When you place your little hands on your hips, Takeomi wants to throw you over his shoulder and just ravage you - it's stupidly cute. But he doesn't even have the energy to do that.

"Baby, let's reschedule for--"

"No!" You storm off, going to your shared bedroom and slamming the door shut. When Takeomi finds the strength to approach the door, he finds it quite locked.

"Y/n," he grunts. "Open the door."

"No."

Takeomi sighs and rattles the doorknob. "You're acting like a child."

"That's fine." A long, pained groan comes from his throat, and Takeomi does the one thing he swore he'd never do. With a swift kick, he busts the door down and sees you huddled on the bed, your face still scrunched into a frown.

"You want date night?" Takeomi wonders, snatching the sheets off of you. "I'll give you date night." You're yanked to the edge of the bed by your legs, your mouth open to rebuke him, but you're quickly silenced by his hand slipping into your underwear. You don't fight back - you don't even seem to want to - when he fiddles with your clit, his fingers rubbing it just the way you like it.

Your face goes slack, and you relax into the mattress and spread your legs further. Takeomi takes your cue and slips a finger into your soaking wet cunt, swiftly adding another to accompany it. "Didn't tell me you're all worked up," Takeomi murmurs lustily in your ear.

"I just need you tonight," you whisper back, and Takeomi's tiredness dissipates. He pushes your underwear down around your ankles and flips your nightgown up. "Please, Omi..."

"Want me like this?" he asks, undoing his belt and letting his pants drop to the floor. As he steps out of them, you nod, looking back into his green eyes and humming softly. "Okay, okay. I'll take care of you, yeah? I'll make sure you get what you need."

Taiju Shiba - Alpha

Taiju's growls are never soft or kind. They indicate possession, displeasure, or frustration. All of which he's experiencing right now.

You're against the wall as he sniffs you, his eyebrows pushed together as he susses out the other scents on your body. "Who have you been with today?" One of Taiju's hands snakes up to your neck, and you whimper at the feeling of his fingers against your skin.

"Just the girls and--"

"I smell another Alpha on you." You inhale sharply.

"No, I haven't been--"

Taiju's eyes look at you with curiosity. "No other alphas?"

"No, I swear it." Taiju's lips curl into a smile.

"I knew you'd be good for me." His hands roam over your bare legs and up to your skirt, where he carefully pushes your panties aside and strokes your slit. "Always so submissive and sweet. You'd never let another man touch you, hm?"

"Never," you affirm, parting your legs for him a little. He hooks a hand around your thigh and brings it up around his waist. Fingers dance around your clit and slip into your pussy eagerly, then curl against your soft spot.

Taiju is silent as he works you up for him, listening intently to your moans and pants with pleasure. And this is your perfect scenario: you, pressed against a wall while Taiju Shiba, pack Alpha, makes you cum over and over again.

"You're so loyal," the man whispers against your hair. "And so perfect for me."

"Tai," you pant, biting your bottom lip. "I'm gonna cum."

"Good," he replies, quickening his fingers and making you cry out. "Want you nice and wet for me when I fuck you."

"Tai, please," you whine, and he chuckles low in his throat, pressing his other hand against your throat a little more.

"I'll give you what you want," he whispers. "And then I'll breed you like the good girl you are."

[hikarry]

So, as someone who recently got the ADHD label slapped on my forehead as an adult, I’ve had to wrestle with this pesky thing called shame over all the supposed potential I've got but I'm throwing away every time my brain fucks up and forces me to stay at home pretending I'm a funcional adult and trying to ignore the very big pink elefant in the room. Spoiler alert: potential is just a myth like Bigfoot or that one time I thought I could keep a cow in my grandma's bathtub.

I grew up hearing, “If you just didn’t procrastinate, you could be anything!” But honestly, I've made a 20/20 oral presentation on Religion in France over a sleepless night before said presentation that made my professor personally congratulate me at the end of class. I know I can do it. But my brain fucks up sometimes. It's something that happens and I need to live with it.

Here’s the kicker: Your top performance is NOT something you can healthly sustain forever. If it were, we’d all be superhumans with endless productivity, but reality check: sometimes I can't even leave the house to go throw the trash out (the trash can is legit in front of my building).

Now, I’m all about tackling procrastination, mainly because I like to be occupied and my mental health sky rockets when I do the shit I actually have to do. But, some days, you just can't.

So, let’s get real: I’m not wasting potential; I’m just navigating life like a human being who occasionally starts sweating over getting make the transtition between leaving their house and going to the bus. There’s no hidden hole full of productivity waiting to be discovered.

If you’re also dealing with ADHD, remember: you're not lazy. You have a brain that likes to fuck with you sometimes. You’ve got the potential of a decent human being, and with practice (and maybe some coffee...okay, a lot of coffee, but be careful with the heart palpitations), you can access it. But don’t buy into the myth that you’re not living up to some imaginary standard.

[secret-third-thing]

@erisweek2023 Day 1: Family

Rated T - Implied Abuse; Potentially Triggering Images | Words: 2k

Read on AO3 or on Tumblr below the cut

"When you've finally overthrown me... when your ambitions bloom, and all your schemes are fulfilled, What will you do then, Eris?"

Summary: After many restless nights, Eris has a difficult conversation with his mother.

A/N: This is a tough one, folks. Please take care of yourselves.

"When you've finally overthrown me... when your ambitions bloom, and all your schemes are fulfilled, What will you do then, Eris?"

--

Most nights, Eris wakes up in a cold sweat, body twisted in silken sheets stained with fear. For a moment, he cannot breathe, and his hands grasp his throat, intending to claw away at the skin there until he can feel the cool night air of Autumn. He chokes on the darkness, the deep despair that lingers within him until his lungs remember how to breathe and his chest heaves with relief.

Tonight, he reminds himself his father is dead - the severed head of the former high lord hoisted and burned on a massive pyre, the body laid waste and tossed into the sea. Beron would never appear again, ire brandished like a red-hot sword poised to strike. Eris had made sure of that.

Yet, his father's final words echoed in his head as he slipped from the bed, hair tusled with restless sleep. Eris didn't dare catch his reflection in the bathroom, instead cupping the water of a running facet in his hands, watching the liquid leak from the cracks in his fingers as he prepared to splash the cooling liquid onto his face.

He was safe, and yet…

In the days leading to his coronation, sometimes in the middle of holding court, Eris' mind would twist and would see the sneering grin of his father in the crowds of commoners. The former high lord's head cocked to the side in false curiosity at his son finally playing leader. With him gone, would Eris finally craft Autumn to fit a new vision?

Wrapping a cotton robe around him, Eris steps out into the private balcony of his bedroom. The night air curls around him, and he relishes how it feels against his heated skin. It was halfway to winter, and soon, it would be too cold to set foot outside without a wool coat.

In the distance, he can see the Forest House guards make their rounds through the estate, paths weaving in and out of the trees, through the gardens, and up the main entry. Eris had stationed them there, just in case his father's sympathizers bore ash and iron to cross him. So far, however, his imminent reign is met with ambivalence. Eris knows that, like his father, he is a near indomitable force. He feels all of Autumn, the frenetic life of the fauna, the aching of the rot in the woods, the thrumming of all the magic his court possessed.

As he watches the trees shift from the nighttime breeze, he sees a head of red hair walk to the gardens, flames entangled in her hand. She opens the gates and settles herself on a bench. Unusual at this hour.

Eris slips on his shoes and wanders into the empty hallways of the Forest House, eyes darting to every shadow as he makes his way to the entrance. Very rarely did Eris seek out his mother. Only under her gaze did the guilt and shame begin to eat away at him. He remembered the first time he had lied. Or the first time he had hurt his brothers. He recalled the disappointment in her face. The way the corners of her mouth turned ever so slightly down when she realized that despite all the love and care she showed, Beron had won.

Sometimes, Eris swore his mother wore that expression when she knew he was the only one looking at her. How exhausted she seemed. Her sons, the lights of her life, burning so violently under their father's gaze that they could only consume the world around them.

These days, Eris felt like he was going to burn out of control. Beron had been ruthless, his schemes unending. It had been challenging to keep up with what was running through his father's mind. So much so that Eris wondered if it would be worth being high lord at all. Could Autumn be salvaged? Was it even worth it? His father's legacy of cruelty was planted in every corner. Eris wasn't sure he would be able to uproot it, being born of that pain himself.

When he reaches the garden, he is startled by the vision of his mother lounging on the bench, head leaning back, eyes closed, and face relaxed. She is wrapped in a worn robe, her legs thrown over the arm of the bench, shoes dangling from her feet. In this moment, he remembers she is not much older than him. With her eyes still closed, she addresses him.

"It is not often my eldest comes to me," she says. She tilts her head and opens her eyes just enough to see him standing there. It makes him feel small. They both know he avoids being alone with her, the burden of his shame always laid bare before her.

"You're up late," he counters, voice sharper than he intends. His hands slide into his pockets, a habit that he picked up as a child. He worries she remembers this, too.

"I'm enjoying the quiet," she finally says. Eris can read between the lines, can sense the ease with which she speaks, her taking solace in her husband's demise. His mother pulls herself up and sits cross-legged on the wooden bench. She pats the wood next to her.

"Come, sit."

Eris finds himself obeying, sitting next to her, staring back at Forest House. He can see the many rooms, mostly dark save for a few late-night readers or schemers who dared defy the night.

"Today is a big day," she says when he sits in silence. She faces him, smiling, soft and genuine, face framed by her unbound hair, just as brilliantly red as his own. "Are you excited for the coronation?" The way she says it, the tone of her voice, and the melody it carries make him feel young again. He recalls how, long before his other brothers were born, he would tug at her skirts until she lifted him onto her lap, and they watched the fae working the gardens around the home, how she would sing him to sleep when he wouldn't rest alone in his room.

"Relieved," Eris simply replies, ignoring the churning of his stomach.

"I am, too." she says. They sit in comfortable silence for a while until Eris can feel his chest tighten, can feel his lungs seize. He swears he can see his father standing on a balcony watching them both, waiting until-

"Care for a drink?" she says to him suddenly, resting a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into reality. Now he is back in the garden, alone with his mother. No remnant of his father to be found. The light of her faefire flickers, and she rubs her thumb against him in circles.

"At this hour?" he asks. She laughs at this, her hand pulling away from him to cover her mouth as she tosses her head back. When her laughter subsides, she smiles.

"Whiskey would be good, but I meant to help you sleep."

"I never said I couldn't sleep."

"You never slept well, even as a child," she counters.

Carefully untangling her legs, she stands, holding out a hand. He stands in turn and allows her to wrap her arm around his as he escorts her back inside.

Their walk to the kitchen is long. His mother winds through Forest House, leading him down halls, through rooms he nearly had forgotten existed, past portraits of relatives whose names he never learned. His mother's world is so different from his, yet they had coexisted this whole time. How much had he missed of his mother by serving his father?

In the kitchen, she finally withdraws her arm, giving him a gentle squeeze with her hand, and walks to a cupboard. She seems to float like a ghost, robe dusting the floor. In the dim faelight, the dark circles of her eyes are pronounced, her face thin and angular. She looks so frail, the widow of the high lord. During the day, she wears gowns the color of ash that wash her out, making her into a living corpse. As far as Eris knows, she has shed no tears for her loss.

His mother turns and gestures for him to sit at the table in the corner. She takes her time pulling a clay mug from the cupboard, placing it reverently on the counter. She flits to where the milk is stored and pours a generous amount.

"Why are you here still?" Eris asks, watching her pull a honey wand from the jar and drizzle it over the milk.

"Here?" she asked, brows furrowed as she maneuvers the wand back into the jar without making a mess of the counter. She places the honey back and searches for spices.

"In Autumn. Why aren't you in Day by now?" he clarifies. She knows what he's talking about. Eris watches her closely now, noting the way her eyes widen just so slightly, how her mouth twitches in denial, how she can't look him in the eye.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" She heats the mug with her hands.

"We all know, Mother," he says too calmly. The rumor of her affair was the worst kept secret in their family.

Eris had found out when Lucien was not much older than an infant. He had brought his younger brother to the Kennels to pet his dogs when his Lucien had glowed, a flickering beacon of hope in the dim rot of Autumn. And Eris had crushed it, startled Lucien into crying, and carried the wailing child to his mother. Eris had seethed, had never been so angry at her before. He warned her, accused her of betrayal. How could she have found such joy in abandoning the rest of them?

His mother stops heating the mug with her hands and sets it down before the milk can curdle. Her mouth is pursed as though the unspoken agreement to never mention her infidelity again is still meant to be honored. Eris only complied for her sake.

"You all are my children," she says. When she finally dares to meet his stare, he sees the fire that burns within her, the same that burns in him, in Lucien. "I don't know why you seem to forget that."

"What did you ever do when he hurt us?" he spits out. He's gripping the chair until his knuckles are white.

"You have no idea what I've been through, Eris. I did the best I could." Her flushed face twists into a frown. She's right, but he does have an inkling of what she went through and the scars to prove it. His mother has seen them, saw when he earned them. Did nothing to soothe him. But he drops the subject and gives a long, defeated sigh. He is tired, and it's early in the morning.

Sensing the shift, his mother finally hands the mug to him, and he takes it—a peace offering.

"I love you," she says, barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," he says. He sips the drink and savors how the warmth of it seeps into him, the closest thing to a hug he's had in centuries.

"Are you happy now?" she asks him, choosing her words carefully. He hates how he makes her nervous like he's a monster too.

"Yes," he lies. She nods, knowing. She leans over the counter, eyes bright and a rueful smile upon her lips.

"I am here for you," she says. A lie, Eris is sure. "You are going to do great things. Don't let the memory of him stop you." She gives that feeble half-grin he has come to loathe. Her wise words are lost on him.

"Good night, Mother," Eris says. He returns the mug to her and walks back to his room, steps echoing in the silent gulf between them.

His mother stays for his coronation. She leaves the next day.

--

Notes:

Phew - that was hard to write. I'm a DV survivor and so is my mother. The conversations we had after the abuse had ended were very, very difficult, and this fic was inspired by that. I'd like to think that even though this piece ended on a sad note, what happened is the first step to longer journey of much-needed healing. My mother and I took years to be able to talk about what happened. I suspect Eris and the LoA would need the same time and space. As always, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think and be sure to check out the rest of the @erisweek2023 fics. <3

[alwritey-aphrodite]

My Game of Thrones Girlies as

Taylor Swift Songs

It’s my two favorite things!

Cersei Lannister: The Man - not in a ‘she would be great if she were a man’ kind of way but in a ‘she thinks she’d be great if she were a man’ kind of way. because at the end of the day, Cersei would be a shitty ruler. She’d be straight up awful, but not because she’s a woman, because she fucking sucks. Everyone likes to shit on her solely because she’s a woman when they should be shitting on her because she’s an awful human being. Everyone would praise her as being an awesome villain if she were a male character. Hate her because she’s bad and dumb, not because she’s a woman.

Arya Stark: Karma - she is karma. She is ‘going to track you down, step by step from down to town’. She is ‘sweet like justice’. Like.. has there been a more perfect song for the girl who lists off all the people she wants dead every night before she goes to sleep? For the girl who did that to Walder Frey? She is making sure everyone is getting what they deserve, she’s crossing those names off her list, and I love her for it.

Sansa Stark: mirrorball - ‘I’m still a believer but I don’t know why’ if that line doesn’t describe Sansa I don’t know what does. She is the mirrorball blueprint, she tries so, so, so hard and even when things don’t work out, when she gets fucked over again and again and again, she keeps trying. All of those lines like “watch my shattered edges glisten” I feel perfectly capture how even when she’s broken into a million little pieces she is still keeping up appearances and doing what she needs to in order to survive. I’d take a bullet for her.

Margaery Tyrell: Bejewled - Margaery Tyrell is the love of my life, my best friend, I’m obsessed with her. And yes, there are plenty of sad songs I could have used, but I think this fits her better. “A diamond’s gotta shine”, nothing is stopping her from getting what she wants and looking good while doing it. I feel like this is another one of those songs where it’s like do whatever the hell you want to me, you’re not taking me down, and I feel like that just perfectly describes Margaery and her determination to get what she wants.

Daenerys Targaryen: you’re on your own kid - the way the phrase ends with “you always have been” and then switches to “you can face this” perfectly captures Dany’s entire story arch. She has been alone her entire life, the only person she could rely on was Visery, who was a total creep and trying to pimp her out since she was old enough to be leered at. She has always been alone, the last dragon, and yet she’s survived and she’s ruling and she has friends now. She started off so alone, and now she’s gaining confidence as a person and as a ruler and she is able to handle whatever life throws at her. “I gave my blood, sweat, and tears for this.”

Rhaenrya Targaryen: this is me trying - “they told me all of my cages were mental, so I got wasted like all my potential” I just… it’s so perfect for her. Also you can’t tell me the line “it’s hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you” wasn’t written about her and Alicent. I feel like it perfectly captures her balance of trying so hard to beat everyone, to live up to her expectations, while simultaneously falling apart. A son for a son

Alicent Higtower: The Lucky One - “you don’t feel pretty, you just feel used” I mean come on!! This was written for her!! As much as the hate the Greens, Alicent deserves so much better. She deserves better than a father who used her for power, she deserves better than an old ass husband who couldn’t give less of a shit about her. “Everybody loves pretty, everybody loves cool” is just the perfect descriptor for the young version of show Alicent - she’s just trying her best to be what everyone else expects of her. Book Alicent can rot in hell tho

[goth-mothered]

@arachnofille​ || Gory Starter !  READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

TW For: Death / Murder, Blood & Gore, Potentially Disturbing Descriptions, & Body horror elements.

She’d been in the process of letting the blood from the bodies behind her, neat little industrial buckets under each hanging corpse. The longitudinal lines of the unmistakable ‘ Y ‘ incisions all bleeding out. The draining, a laborious and intensive process, had been in hands of a skilled craftswoman. Morticia glanced around the grove - the wind whispered through the treetops and the heat of the evening had sped up the stench emanating from the corpses strung up by their ankles. Hordes of flies were settling in the open wounds, lapping at the blood still flowing in rivulets down the naked chests and faces of the deceased. 

The blood - that’s what she needed, the essence of life to pull from when she was too world weary and exhausted by circumstance. The front of her hand-me-down white smock was coated in blood. She could feel it sticky against her belly and breasts even beneath the fabric. Her sweat, though minimal was heavily perfumed of something sickeningly french but formaldehyde laden. 

The branches swayed either in the wind or under the weight of their burdens, Tish couldn’t tell one way or another. She stood back for a moment, taking up her skirt in her hands and wiping her face before wiping them too, in turn. She picked up a knife from where they were lined up on a particularly flat rock and began cutting at the flesh of the first body.  Butchering things was a skill she’d picked up in one of her past incarnations and came simple as breathing to the witch. Each cut she placed in a trunk, deceptively deep all things considered, and pondered what to do about the rest of the flesh left over from this venture.  ( Yes, it was a shame to waste it, but in modernity - outside of serial killers ... no one had Donner party appetites. ) 

Here, she closed the trunk and sat on the lid, hand tucked under her chin, smearing the little blood left on them to her face.  She wasn’t so concerned with being caught - after all, she was well off the beaten path. Very few could have traversed weed choked & felled tree clogged paths. The snarls of thorned Ivy were enough to keep most wild life at bay around here, no, she might as well rest her aching arms. She’d have to be up to the task of finishing what she started before night fall: to decant the blood and them store it in a crystal chest to bathe in only the moonlight for three months.  Morticia closed her eyes, breathing steadily and sprawled out on the knitted blanket she’d brought earlier in the day for added warmth. Now, it was just as soiled as her hands, smock & soul. 

A comforting thought as she allowed herself to drift into an unexpected nap. 

[eyestosee-earstohear]

It is the Spirit who gives life, the flesh is no help at all.

Hey brothers and sisters. It's my (Paul) turn to share something the Lord has done in my life while we've been on the road. This journey has been about our spiritual growth just as much as those God has put in our path. This one is a little long but bear with me. God's got lots to do in me. As several of you know, I've been a gun guy for 30+ years. I've tinkered with, bought and traded, modified, repaired, read and thought about, and fell in love with them. Friends and family all new me to have a great passion for firearms. I loved steering conversion in that direction whenever I got the chance and enjoyed it when folks would ask my advice. I loved being the "Gun Guy." It had become part of my identity. It became the big passion in my life. That was a big problem. I'm not saying that guns and God are incompatible. I am saying that idols and God are incompatible. It all came to a head this past July. I was wrestling with God and asked him how I could show him love. The answer came pretty clearly and almost immediately after just a short time in prayer. He brought the scripture to mind where Jesus said "If you love me you will keep my commandments" (John 14:15). One of those commandments is to have no other gods before him (Exodus 19:3). I asked him "Lord do I have idols that are getting in the way?" I then asked if my guns were an idol and immediately I knew the answer. The spirit convicted my heart.  I reflected on all the years I had spent focused on these inanimate objects. How I had wasted so much energy on them instead of getting to know my Heavenly Father better. I had allowed the blessing to become a curse. I had more of a passion for guns than for God. I had wasted opportunities to witness for him. I had wasted years. I was instantly remorseful. But was it guilt over slighting God? Or mourning over the fact that I might have to give up something precious to me? If I'm being honest, I fear that it was mostly the latter. I wrestled with God for the rest of the day and did not sleep well that night. I had a sick feeling in my stomach and broke out into sweats. I tried to negotiate with God and then went through all the stages of grieving. And then it hit me; I was a gun junkie and an addict. I had the same symptoms, albeit much less severe, that a drug addict has when they are withdrawing. Our patient Heavenly Father shook me from my stupor and I told God that I would give up my guns if that's what he wanted me to do. He answered quickly that that's what he wanted me to do. He wanted me to be a God guy instead of the "Gun Guy" that I was known for. So over these last few months I have sold or given away everything I had. And it just dawned on me a couple of days ago the burden that has been lifted. I was always concerned about ensuring my guns where locked up and didn't like leaving town for too long lest thieves "break in and steal." What a silly burden to bear for so long.

We're not to love the world or the things in it (1John 2:15) but we are to keep ourselves from idols (1 John 5:21). I want it to be a testimony to my kids and my family and friends that God is serious about the hearts of his children. He wants us to give up the things that have become more precious than him. It has shocked some folks. God has used this situation a number of times for me to share the Gospel. He has also used it to show me other areas in my life that are not pleasing to him. It hasn't been easy. But that is fodder for another posting another day. That's some of my journey so far. I'm not telling anyone to give up their guns. I am saying ask the Lord to show you any potential idols in your heart and then do everything that you can to get rid of them. You might not like what you hear but it is far better to not like what you hear on this side of heaven than to hear in the end "I never knew you; depart from me." If you don't have a relationship with the Lord I encourage you to seek him. Seek him while he may be found. Time is running short and he will come again. His second coming will not be as gentle and sweet like his first. I hope the Lord can use my little revelation to minister to you. Blessings to you.

Many people have been asking how to support us or get a hold of us. You can always call or text us to check on us or pray for us. We’d love to hear from you. Paul: (405) 301-4335 Brandy (405) 602-4475

Paul and Brandy Criger                                                                                      C/O Pam Criger                                                                                                3214 Wingate Meadows Dr. NE                                                                         Rio Rancho, NM 87144

Venmo: @paulandbrandy

[inkrabbit]

Would you happen to have any headcannons for Swiss and/or any of the other ghouls taking care of their sick s/o?

honestly lets have all the ghouls

Swiss:

"Sick...? Hang on, lemme look that up."

and best believe he's asking Primo to make you one of his famous teas to help you feel better

you're not leaving his bed either, so get comfy

don't worry, he's not leaving your side until you're all better. and yes, that means he's cuddling with you as much as you'll allow

you wanna watch a movie? some stupid videos to make you feel better? you got it.

he'll also play something for you on his guitar and softly sing to you in hopes you feel better

also pls eat for him, even if you don't really want to. he'll cry if you don't

Aether:

"You're hotter than a fire ghoul. What's wrong?"

he doesn't 100% understand when people get sick because ghouls aren't prone to sickness

if you give him a quick rundown, he gets the general idea

will ask some siblings for tips, and also get a couple books

refuses to let you leave bed when he sees that "rest" is one of the important home remedies

keeps checking up on you to see if you feel better because, no Aether, sickness doesn't go away within hours of rest

gives you some of his books to read and offers to play music to help relax you more

Cirrus:

"You're still in bed? Did you stay up late last night?"

one of the few ghouls that actually knows what to do

checks your temperature every hour and always ends it by kissing your forehead

brings you food to eat in bed so you don't have to waste energy getting up

you can get up and do things, but she's gonna give you a firm warning to get back to bed

also gives you fuzzy blankets and a few stuffed animals she found to try and make you comfy

she'll stay if you want her to, but other than, she's giving you your space so you can rest peacefully

Cumulus:

"Honey, what's wrong? You're burning up!"

also one of the ghouls that knows what to do and she's quick too

within five minutes, she's taken your temperature, run you a hot bath and got you a cool and damp towel to rest on your head while you sweat it out under the covers

makes soup from scratch and uses the herbs from Primo's garden to enhance the flavor and boost the potential of it helping you

she gives you anything you want and even softly sings for you to help you fall asleep

shoos away any of the other siblings or ghouls that try to check on you. if they wanna know how you're doing, they can ask her

keeps a show on that you like so you're not bored being in bed all day

Mountain:

"Ayy, I'm sick too! ... What do you mean flu?"

just like Aether, he doesn't get it at first and he needs a little more in-depth rundown on what the "flu" is

all he really understands is "I feel horrible and hot and disgusting"

he runs a nice hot bath for you and, when he hears how you don't have energy, decides to take it with you so he can help clean you

keeps making jokes and telling stories to try and make you happy

he's more than happy to cuddle with you in bed all day, even if you're feeling icky

tell him if you want some alone time. he'll understand. he just wants you happy and back to normal

Rain:

"Hey, you're burnin' up. Are you okay?"

he knows what sickness is. he's seen Papa sick a few times so he has a good understanding on what to do

asking one of Primo's ghouls for the best home remedies for you and making them himself

understands if you don't want anything, but also encourages you to eat and drink so you keep your strength up

always keeps a bottle of water beside you just in case you need it

plays his bass for you and softly sings if you don't mind him staying with you

don't be afraid to ask him for anything, no matter the request. all he cares about is your health and he wants to take care of you

Sodo:

"Lucifer, you're hot! Is that what it's like touching me?"

doesn't understand at first what's wrong with you, but like Mountain, he gets the gist when you mention how you feel

this is one of those times where he gets really soft with you and insists that, if you need anything, no matter what, all you have to do is ask him

ends up cuddling with you all day and watching shows on his laptop

he won't tell you, but he absolutely loves this. doing nothing and just spending time with you

offers to play music on either his bass (if he can find it) or his guitar. you gotta kiss him if you want him to sing, though

swaps between English and Swedish when gently talking to you while you try falling asleep

Sunshine:

"Is something wrong? You're like... really hot!"

asks Cirrus and Cumulus for advice on how to properly help you

like Cumulus and Rain, she makes you soups and teas herself and uses herbs from Primo's garden to help

she plays a couple of her vinyls to keep you entertained, but feel free to ask her to turn it off. she'll understand

checks your temperature whenever she thinks you feel better or worse

cuddles with you in bed and constantly checks to see if you're okay

will 100% understand if you want to be alone, but she will be coming by every now and then just to check up on you

[comfortwriting]

The Secret Son - A.S

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Guidelines 

Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

About: The reader falls pregnant with Anakin's child and instead of telling him, she leaves the Jedi Order goes back to her home planet. Years later, a war takes place on her planet and she is attacked and finds herself and her son reuniting with Jedi she truly loves.

Warnings: mention of nausea, food, violence, blood, shooting guns, death of children (what is a result of war), mention of sex, plenty of fluff, swearing, and all the feels!

A/N: We get to see Jedi Master Anakin in this.. oh my heart... Please reblog my work to support me!

You knew it was stupid, dangerous, and unprofessional to strike up a heated romance with your fellow Jedi classmate - but none of that stopped either one of you from sneaking around at night, getting hot and heavy during quiet moments on missions, and going as far as almost getting found out by your Jedi Master.

Part of you couldn't put your finger on what made you so captivated by Anakin, perhaps it was his hair that rested just below his ears, or the scar on his perfectly sculpted face, or maybe his eyes that had glimmers of both hope and frustration, or even his contagious laugh and scowl.

All that you knew now was that you needed to leave the Jedi Order, cut ties with everyone you once knew, and return back home to Alderaan and shield your secret from the universe. Every single other outcome had the exact same end, you knew deep down that no matter what you would crush not just your dreams and future, but also Anakin's.

Everything happened so fast, one minute you were spending time alone in the Jedi Temple and now you were carrying a new life inside of you.

"Anakin!" you gasped at his hands taking you by the waist "We could get caught!"

Anakin smirked and planted a soft kiss on your ear before whispering "Not if we're quiet."

Your cheeks started to burn and turn a deep shade of pink, truly wanting to be touched and to touch the Jedi, you gave in and made a promise to yourself to keep quiet and to never engage in such risky behaviour in the temple again.

Anakin panted and wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing away his soft curls that stuck to the sweat, your arms reached up to him and caressed his face before dressing yourself quickly as the sound of a Jedi Masters boots came closer and closer.

An unsettling feeling started to weigh heavily in both your stomach and mind, you couldn't figure it out - you and Anakin both just bonded and there were no issues, so why are you panicking? You haven't been caught red-handed and you were both safe from harm.

"I love you Ani," you whispered in Anakin's ear, straightening your robes.

Anakin shot you a loving glance, "I love you too," he whispered back, standing up straight with his hands behind his back.

Training became harder than it used to be, your breasts were tender and swollen making it hard to wield your lightsaber, your mind fog got in the way during your lessons when teaching the younglings, and you could no longer stand to be around food because the smell of the morning juicy apples and evening thick gravy turned your stomach upside down.

You didn't need someone to tell you what you already knew, you could feel the life inside of you grow stronger as more time passed by, if you didn't leave now you wouldn't be able to forgive yourself for getting in the way of Anakin's dreams.

You stared at yourself, your robes, and your lightsaber, reflecting on everything you had learnt, everything you had been through, the younglings who looked up to you, and the masters who trusted you and fought hard to help you reach your potential as a female Jedi who didn't discover the force until later on in childhood.

How could you throw this away? How could you waste your potential and everyone's time? How could you successfully live a lie?

Obi-Wan was behind you with his hand resting on your shoulder, his soft voice breaking you from your ocean of thoughts.

"Is everything alright, Y/N?"

The once young and ambitious apprentice who found you on Hoth with his kind and caring Master Qui-Gon, now a master who could see the way you looked at his padawan Anakin and the way he looked back.

If you had to announce your leave to anyone without fear of crushing them, surely it would be him, right?

Swallowing hard and closing your eyes for a moment, you let out a big sigh and turned around slowly to face him, opening your eyes to meet his concerned gaze felt like tiny needle pricks spread across your chest. You were scared of letting him down.

"It's not Master," you admitted, taking your lightsaber out and handing it to him "something has happened and I must return to my home."

Obi-Wan glanced down at your lightsaber and then back at you, not taking it "To Alderaan? What requires you to return there-"

"I cannot say," you interrupted "but I must go, please make this easy for Ani-Anakin to understand. I care for him deeply and my absence could get in the way of his success."

Obi-Wan studied you closely, his suspicions had been confirmed and while he wanted to scold you and approach his Padawan -  he could sense that there was something much more going on than attachment. You were also aware of him and Satine, Obi-Wan knew you would never speak of it out of respect for him, so he nodded his head and refused to press you further on the matter.

He gently accepted your lightsaber although he wanted nothing more than to give it back, knowing what you endured on Hoth.

"Will you be needing any assistance?"

You shook your head "No, I'm a pretty good pilot thanks to your Padawan." you smiled sadly, walking away.

Obi-Wan broke out into a smile, "May the force be with you," he said quietly.

Looking back at him with your tear-filled eyes, you waved "and also with you."

"How long can we keep this up, Ani?" you asked sleepily, your head resting on his rising and falling chest.

Anakin looked down at you and ran his fingers through your hair "for as long as we can, my love," he replied softly "one day we may even get married-"

"Married?!" you gasped in disbelief "How could we hide such a thing? I want to show you off as my husband with pride, not hide it."

Ani stayed quiet, the plans of him proposing swirling through his head again, wondering when and where would be the right time, asking himself if you would even say yes.

"One day we won't ever have to hide it," he mumbled "attachments aren't such a bad thing-"

You sat up in his bed and started to get upset, you truly loved Anakin but you knew that having a family was too dangerous for a well-known Jedi who had money placed on their death.

"They are when you lose someone you care about," you whispered

Anakin sat up too, retracting his hand from your hair.

"I know what it's like to lose that someone-"

"Anakin I'm not saying you haven't-"

Anakin continued to speak "I lost my mother, who I cared for deeply - that loss hasn't stopped me from falling for you, has it?"

"No-"

"I'm afraid to lose you, Y/N, why do you think I train so hard? You and my mother are my motivation to become a powerful Jedi, to stop people from dying-"

You put your head in your hands and pressed your closed eyes into your palms, tiny little stars spreading across in front of you.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore, Ani, I don't want the pain of losing you to become real."

"She left?!" Anakin freaked and paced around the room, no longer able to control his emotions "And you didn't tell me!"

"Y/N left because she had to." His Master replied calmly "she is safe Anakin, that is all you need to know."

"All I need to know?!" Ani huffed "She cannot get by on her own! You've seen how I've come to her aid on missions-"

Obi-Wan raised his hand, outstretching his palm.

"If we did not feel it would be safe for her, she wouldn't have gone alone, Anakin. Y/N is quite capable of taking care of herself."

Anakin shook his head and clenched his jaw, his hands bunching into tight fists.

"If anything happens to her-"

"Nothing is going to happen Anakin -  if it did you know that we would do our very best to help her."

The guilt pained you every moment of every single day, the bigger your bump became, the bigger the guilt of leaving Anakin without explanation came back to bite you.

Your pregnancy wasn't easy - how could it? You were alone, in a small house that struggled to trap and create heat as you were surrounded by the snowy mountains, and you relied heavily on those around you to help fetch your food and furniture for your child's room.

With each kick, wriggle, and movement your child gave you, you placed your hand on your bump, closed your eyes and imagined that Anakin was with you; bringing you to tears and falling down on your knees.

Tensions were building up and you heard the rumours of war, death, and violence - you had seen it all already on your missions with Anakin and his master Obi-Wan and you knew just how brutal they could be; you were on death's door more than once thanks to General Grievous, Count Dooku and  Ventriss.

You started to question what universe you were bringing your child into and if leaving the Jedi order and continuing your pregnancy was the right choice.

"Do you see yourself having children?" Anakin asked you one evening.

The two of you sitting on the balcony enjoying your time off whilst your masters were in an important meeting.

The soft breeze stroked your hair back behind your shoulder, you didn't want to react the same way that you did to his marriage question which resulted in the both of you not speaking for a week.

"I'd like to," you replied, "one day when it's safe enough for me to raise them."

A small smile crept upon his face, you caught it in the corner of your right eye and started to blush, trying not to get shy.

'he's thinking of me becoming a mother?'

Anakin often thought about the day you would announce that you were carrying his child, the months he could count done and watch see your bump grow, the day when you would finally go into labour and cradle the product of love you both made in your protective arms.

"I see myself having children," Ani admitted "I often believe that I'll be a better father than Jedi."

Going into labour was long, stressful, and painful. You were standing up from the table and felt water burst from within you, trickling down your legs and forming into a puddle on the floor. You tried not to panic but knowing that you were alone and had no one to help you deliver this baby, you couldn't help but panic.

Anakin had nightmares, similar to that of his mother dying, but instead, you were on the floor, screaming and crying, calling out his name. Your face was pale and your skin clammy, your eyes slowly going dim before he would wake up drenched in sweat.

Anakin often sensed something else around him, a deep pull that he couldn't recognise or explain, he could feel its fear, its happiness, he could feel it entirely disappear the closer you got into your labour.

Closing your eyes, you tried to reach out, begging for Qui-Gon despite him being gone, begging for Obi-Wan, begging for any Jedi master that you could to come and help you, save you from dying before you could bring your child into this world and see their father in their eyes.

Unable to stop yourself from pushing, you tried to control your breathing and tugged up your skirt from covering your knees so you could pull down your soaked underwear, beads of sweat formed across your forehead and chest.

"Please-" you cried, feeling faint "Please-"

Darkness. Darkness everywhere. No one and nothing, until the cries of your child pierced your ears, and the feeling of someones hand supporting your back so you weren't laying out cold on the floor.

Slowly opening your eyes, you were stunned, Obi-Wan was supporting you and holding your child in his arms, his eyes staring down at his Padawans offspring.

"It's a boy," Obi-Wan smiled again.

"Obi-Wan?!"

Obi-Wan smiled and turned to face you, he handed you your newborn gently, you opened out your arms and pulled your baby into your chest, the very sight of him bringing you to tears.

Most newborns looked nothing like their parents or relatives for weeks, months even, you were a blank canvas until you were twelvemonths old - but not your son. No. He was Anakin from his ambitious eyes, his nose, full lips, and ahead of thick, sandy blonde hair.

"He looks just like him," he said softly.

There it was. The guilt again.

"H-How is he?" you croaked.

Since leaving, Anakin continued to work hard but his bouts of inappropriate anger and mood swings got him into trouble, he was still just as ambitious and passionate as you remembered, but he refused to be around women again.

"We handed him the task of being Senator Amidala's bodyguard, he refused," Obi-Wan explained, watching your tiny bundle of joy reach out to grab your finger.

"And Ahsoka?"

Obi-Wan sighed "she gets disappointed and fed up at times but he refuses to fail her."

"Good," you replied "Ahsoka has just as much potential as her master."

As the years went by more and more civilians were being murdered, tortured, caught in the middle of a war they had no involvement in. Children without parents, wives without husbands, parents without children, Alderaan was slowly turning into shambles and many other planets were being obliterated one by one.

Screaming, blasters and yelling filled your area and you knew that you had to try and flee or hide if running was no longer an option.

"Luke!" you panicked, grabbing your son's bag and stuffing it with food and clothes "Luke we need to go now!"

A small boy with soft skin and long blonde hair peeked from behind the door, his eyes were wide and full of fear, his tiny hands were shaking.

"Mummy I'm scared," he started to cry, slowly walking towards you.

Quickly zipping up his bag you lifted up his chin with your finger, the fright on his face hurt you so deeply - reminding you of Anakin and the face he might've pulled at the announcement of your departure.

Luke was just like his father, from his looks to his laugh, to how he talks, sometimes you questioned if any part of you was in him at all. He often asked if he had a dad and why he only had a mother - you had no choice but to lie - if the wrong ears caught wind of a baby Skywalker, you'd lose him before he could even have a chance.

"Baby," you said calmly "we need to leave, you're going to keep this bag on your back and hold onto my hand tight."

More screaming. More crying. More yelling. More banging. More shooting.

Tears started to pool in his eyes, making his vision go glassy.

"Mummy-"

"Luke, you need to listen to me," you tried to keep calm "you keep your head down at all times and keep walking, run if I start running, and do not say a word to anyone. Okay?"

Luke started to nod, his tiny hand reached up to wipe his tears, you pulled him into your arms and planted a kiss on his forehead, catching the scent of his hair.

You couldn't lose him, you'd rather die than lose the only part of Anakin you have left.

"If we get split up, you run and run and don't stop until you find somewhere safe where you can hide. I will come for you but if I'm not back by sunrise-" your own voice started to crack "you keep on running until you see a man that looks like Uncle Ben."

Before you could say anymore, a loud blast rang through the air, the ground shook and your door flew from its hinges. Your house was filled with tall, strong men and scary looking droids that you hadn't seen in years.  

Pulling Luke's arm you took off running towards the back door but stopped when you turned around to see that your son was frozen; his bag was on the floor, his hands covered his eyes and his loud cries pierced your chest.

Some mothers left their children in these moments, yours did - but as desperate as you were to live, you were more than ready to die if it meant Luke got to see another second or minute before the two of you would be nothing more than a number, a statistic, a victim.

Falling to your knees in front of him, you threw your arms around Luke, shielding him from the yellow eyes staring at you in the dark, from the blasts and hands that reached out to grab you.

You closed your eyes, remembering his eyes, his soft skin, the smell of his hair, the sound of his laugh, bringing you an image of what life could have been with his father - on another planet at a different time; Luke playing with ships as his father taught him everything he knew about flying, and days outside watching Anakin chase Luke and tickle him.

"Do you see yourself having children?"

Say no. Don't give him hope.

"I'd like to," you replied, "one day when it's safe enough for me to raise them."

How could you be that deep in denial?

"I see myself having children," Ani admitted "I often believe that I'll be a better father than Jedi."

Tell him he's being foolish, that he can't be both.

"I love you Ani," you whispered in Anakin's ear.

Take it back.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

Don't believe him.

"attachments aren't such a bad thing-"

End it now.

"They are when you lose someone you care about,"

End it. Now.

Luke's cries and screams were all you could hear as hands reached out, clutching around your arms and neck in an attempt to pull you away. You could feel your child moving away from you, you tried to pull him closer to you but it was no use.

"Not him!" you cried out "You can take me, don't hurt my son!" you begged.

Anakin's face dropped at the sight of a large bruise peeking from underneath your sleeve, he took hold of you and yanked up the fabric, your black and blue arm now on full display.

"Ani! Stop!" you hissed, pulling back your arm and stepping back.

"Y/N, you told me you handled it, who did this to you?"  Anakin demanded, closing in on you.

You started to tear up, remembering what happened when you outsmarted another apprentice you were left alone to train with.

"No more missions," Anakin answered for you, his face suddenly softening as you began to cry.

You shook your head "It wasn't on a mission, Ani..."  You slowly pulled off your vest and revealed the bruises on your chest and down your spine.

"It was someone we train with."

The protective rage Anakin felt that day came back in full swing when he found your life and his sons being drained.

He moved fast and didn't miss a beat, swinging his lightsaber, blocking bullets and sending them flying backwards, using his hands to push them away so forcefully they fell apart and collapsed into pieces.

Anakin's heart became warm and joyful, yet full of hurt, terror and rage at the sight of you.

You were barely alive, but you had been alive this entire time, in one piece - Anakin's nightmares often showed you broken and bloody, in pieces and unrecognisable.

At the very sight of the young boy, he could finally recognise the strange pull he had felt inside of him since the day you left - he knew that the boy was his. He had a son.

You scrunched your eyes shut, gripping onto Luke as the sound of the screams and bodies falling to the ground finally ceased, you were afraid that someone much worse had come along and was saving you best for last - or even planning to take you away and torture you for answers you didn't have.

"Y/N," a familiar voice called out softly "it's okay, you can open your eyes."

You felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you, as if someone's hands were wrapped around your throat, choking you.

The voice belonged to Anakin.

Slowly opening your eyes, a tall man stood in front of you, his hair now long and styled like Qui-Gon's and small bristles started to form a beard. His shoulders were much broader and his eyes were darker, appearing to be more tired. The scar on his face was no longer a pale purple, but now a shade of white.

"Ani," you gasped in disbelief "it's you."

Anakin slowly walked over and fell onto his knees, tears of joy and hurt streamed down his face, he pulled you into his arms and squeezed you, his nose brushing against your ear.

"I never thought I'd see you again," he cried.

"I'm sorry for leaving," you replied, also crying "I had to"

"To protect our son," Anakin barely spoke out, slowly pulling away.

Luke had his hands cupped over his eyes and he was still shaking and crying out of fear, his hair stood up in all directions and his bag was now covered in soot and blood.

"Luke," you said calmly "it's okay now, you can open your eyes.. there's someone who is here to see you."

Anakin felt sick, his palms were clammy and his eyes continued to pool with tears, he watched as his own son slowly removed his hands from his face, his big eyes staring back at him like a reflection in a mirror.

Anakin couldn't believe what who in front of him - his future, his product of love, his tie to you forever.

"I am your father," Ani announced softly, holding out his hand.

Luke glanced at his father's outstretched hand and then back into his eyes, instead of taking his hand, he ran into his arms, placing his tiny arms around him and snuggling his face into his father's chest.

Anakin held Luke, stroking his hair and planting a soft kiss on his head.

You watched, fearful of Anakin pulling away and saying goodbye, the doubts and guilt over what you had done started to sting at your heart.

"We need to leave," Anakin said, pulling away from the close embrace and reaching out to hold your hand.

You didn't refuse and instead, you squeezed his hand; ready to start again.

"As long as I'm alive, the two of you will never be in danger again."

- - -

"I love you," Anakin said softly as you brushed his hair in the garden, the two of you watching Luke play with his toy ships.

"I love you too, Ani," you replied, feeling the baby inside you kick their feet.

"Do you have any names picked out?" he asked.

You paused for a moment before tying back his hair into a loose bun "for a girl, I like Leia."

[buckysaster]

Indigo Nights

pairing: marc spector x reader

about: request || I was thinking of a oneshot where the reader is an avatar of a goddess who was khonshu's lover and the reader has a crush on Marc/Steven and is helping him on this adventure until Harold captures her and Moon Knight goes to save her and finds her drugged because it's the only way Harold can control the goddess. (the reader is a tiny woman ^^)

warnings/ tags: mild violence, bit of angst, comfort

a/n: hiii! thank you anon for sending a request. i apologize it took me so long for me to write it. college is kicking my ass right now and i got a lot of dues to work on first. but i did it! i tried making it simple and a bit different. i hope you'll like it!!! english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes along the way.

It was already late at night. The blinking hues of orange and yellows of the city, contrasting the cobalt sky as you watched them sitting on the bed. The silent wonders of Cairo along with the faint sounds of crickets tries to outshine them. The amber colored drapes sway graciously, letting the cool breeze pass through the window, cooling your grimy skin. Only the dim light of the lanterns illuminates the whole room you and Marc are taking in. 

Exhausted from all the fight earlier this evening as your body began to sore and dealing later on with Marc's frustration towards you. You divert yourself, overlooking at the clouds gradually separate, revealing the silvery glow of the moon that lightens up the starry night. You let out your breath as you contemplated all those things Harrow told you hours ago.

Sweat trickling down on your face, specks of dust coating your skin in the middle of the impenetrable darkness. Your head throbbed from the haze, closing your eyes for a while before lifting up your chin. Harsh white light met your eyes once again, remembering where you were, squinting from the light casting down on you. Both hands restrained from the chains behind your back.

You rolled up your shoulders, relieving the soreness of your back from the position you were in. Shaking your head from the searing pain on the side of your face started to appear once again from the contact of the cane awhile ago. ‘Can't wait to go home and sleep’, you thought while twisting the bonds you were held in.  

As you try to break free from this place, a sudden coldness of the atmosphere in the room makes you uneasy, causing you to pause.  The uncanny feeling of a pair of eyes steadily watching you out of your sight. Examining every action you do, waiting for your next move.

“Whatever you do to me, I will never be one of you!” Lifting your chin up facing the empty space, “We will find it first before you can get to her. Show yourself!”

Harrow submerged from the darkness right at the corner of your eye. Hearing the unmistakable sounds of glass crunching in his shoes along the tap of his staff. Gathering all your rage into a tightened fist as he stepped near the light. 

“Wasting such potential is abominable. for the person like you who can bring balance over this chaos.” Placing his staff in front of you.

You glared at him right into his soul, “and for what cost? Just pick up and kill anybody, to ‘heal’ this fucking ideal place of yours."

He sighed, closing his eyes for a while seemingly frustrated by this conversation. His feet strolled up towards you cringing at the sounds of his footsteps, completely ignoring your words. You silently gulped as he came closer before he leaned his head near to you, “You call me a monster, as if you, yourself. The one who fears the most, Sekhmet.” 

Harrow moved away from you, pacing back to his place. Your eyes opened wide as the pulse rang into your ears. Dread slowly poisoning in your mind, blinking from what you just heard. Keeping your stance, not letting him receive the satisfaction he wanted, unflinching, pushing your fear at the back. 

He circled you nonchalantly, before he opened his mouth, “An itch you can’t get rid off, echoing in your head, telling you to punish. To hear those pleasant sounds of their skin, blood gushing out from their bodies. To see their frightened look in their tearful eyes, begging you to let them live. Unimaginable rage, devouring everyone who comes nearby. Setting the world on fire as it crumbles from your own hands makes you feel more alive." 

A twisted smirk formed on his mouth, stopping at the middle, "it is still there, waiting to lash out to serve again its duty, we are just the same.” 

“We are not,” you pressed, “you are insane, fooling everyone with some delusion of this monster,” you grunted, frustration surrounding each words. “Marc will find you and we will do anything to stop this bullshit." Giving him a warning look as you fought the pain growing in your chest.

Harrow appraised you for a while before he turned his body. You watched him ambling towards the door as he retrieved once again in the shadows. Halting his tracks near the door, 

“A pristine water tainted by a drop of blood will never be clean once again. It will forever mark who you really are."

You yelled at him, the echoes of your voice bounced in the whole room. Ignoring your remarks, leaving you alone in the silence. Stunned by his words, shaking your head in disappointment, ‘he’s just messing you,’ repeating to yourself.

Flashes of unwelcome memories that you were attempting to move on, infiltrating your mind once more. Silent tears pricked your eyes, slowly rolling down on your cheeks. You pressed your lips before letting out a shaky breath as you tried to compose yourself. 

You regret everything that happened, although it felt like a hazy dream. The deal, the killings from your bare hands. It wasn’t your choice to kill them, it was all her. When Sekhmet granted you to be her avatar, to protect those who were weak and defenseless, deliver justice as she promised to you. You were a nobody who wanted to have a sense of importance, other than being useless. The thought of it made you feel great and strong, helping others in need.

Unaware of the sinister waiting for you.

Loud screeches every night in your sleep like the howling winds of the desert. Scratching your core, unsatisfied from your duty. The anguish you are living through, trying to fight her off her uncontrollable thirst as you writhed in pain. Until the day she finally managed to take over your body. Ravaging all on her path, involving the civilians who clearly did nothing wrong. 

You didn’t have control on what you were doing. She told you it was the right thing to do. The horror in your eyes when you learned the truth, falling into the trap of what she calls “justice”, made you vomit in shame. It took time to relinquish her deeds, to become more humane, gaining your control again. Keeping under control the damages from your missions. If only you cannot turn back the time, if you were only strong enough to change the path. 

———

Marc shut the bathroom door behind him after he gathered what he needed to clean you up. He watches you a moment from afar where he is standing. His heart skipped the moment he saw you at the center of the room where you held after he fought Harrow's men. He couldn't have been more relieved that you were okay.

He knew you were capable of being an avatar of a god like him. Every time he’s with you, how you took down all the enemies from the adventures you were together made his breath away. But he can't let his mind refrain from the thought of losing you, a nightmare that will haunt him forever. 

Rushing towards you, cutting off the chains with his blades. He cupped your face with his linen covered hands, sensing something off before you took a while of his presence. The purple patch growing darker on your cheek caught his attention. Tracing ever so lightly as you winced from the contact.

The sinking feeling in his chest every time he sees you like this, hurts him more than he can say as you try to brush it aside. He knew Harrow did something to you, trying to break you up. Knowing that you didn't have any choice in the past, despite what you intended to do. 

All his worries were replaced by anger building up inside on how he allowed himself to lose his sight on you along with the guilt rising in his mind. Promising himself that this will not happen again, once he sees Harrow's face, he’s sure that he will pay for what he did. For now, he was glad that he was able to find you safe.

The creaking sound of the bed cut you from trance, feeling someone plopped down beside you. You saw Marc holding a damp towel on his right hand, fixing his position on the bed to properly face you. Of course, he was mad at you on how many times you refused to follow his instructions, based on his usual scowl on his face while dabbing your face from the grime. 

His gingerly strokes of the fabric on your skin made all your thoughts washed away. You found yourself unable to take a glimpse of him, making your heart pound, contrasting the stillness of the room.  

It's been awhile when both of you were closer like this. You were both busy from countless quests, stopping Ammit’s followers from their plan. The solace radiating being beside him made you feel secure in the middle of the battle of the gods. Like a gentle flame that keeps burning in your soul. Cherishing this moment before you come back to reality. His eyes met yours, exchanging glances as you read him behind those mask. 

He caught himself gazing at your features, reflecting the mixed hues of soft light in the hotel, clear away from all the dust. The desire to hold you in his arms forever and leave these things behind. Before he can hold you, he restrains himself as there was always in his mind he doesn’t deserve to be with you. Marc paused, setting the towel down on the bed. Sliding his hands on his lap, clenching it above his knees, a low sigh slips past in his mouth. Averting his eyes from you, unspoken words trapped in his throat.

You reached his hands, “Hey,” clasping tenderly on your touch. A soft smile formed on your face, knowing the situation too well from his downcast eyes, “don’t worry about me. I’m here.”

His stoic demeanor never wavered until it finally melted away when his gaze flickered at you. He pressed his forehead against yours, eyes shut pushing his worries away, cradling your face with the palm of his hands, "I know, I'm just glad you're here." he said softly, a hint of fear and sadness in his tone.

'I can't lose you, I don't know what I'd do if anything happens to you.' he thought to himself.

You hummed from his embrace, remaining for a little while before you pulled your body from him, “Listen to me," looking directly at him. Reassuring him that you will not go away. "I chose this to be with you and I don't regret that. Although sometimes you are a pain in the ass.” A playful expression appeared in your face. 

His lips pursed to a thin line, back to his usual face, furrowing his eyebrows even more as he deadpanned you. He scrunched his nose, turning his head away from you. You chewed up your bottom lip to stop yourself from giggling at his sight. Marc rolls his eyes, completely lost of words. Taking a glance at you before contorting a small smile, "that's my girl", he mumbled to himself. He loved this. The way your face beamed up at him like the golden rays of the sun. Parting all the clouds, basking him at your warmth throughout the darkness of his world. 

You sighed happily. The glint on his eyes mirrors the moon's ethereal glow. Watching his loving eyes drop down to your lips, searching yours for a moment as he pushes away the strands of hair from your face, tucking behind your ear. 

He delicately sets his hand on the nape of your neck while his other wrapped around your waist, closing the distance between you. You turned your head to the left, leaning towards him.  Slow, gentle kisses pressed on your lips. Soft sighs escaped from both of you filled up the room, guiding your bodies slowly to lay down on the bed. While he ran his calloused fingers on your cheek below your bruise. 

You wrapped around your arms around his neck, lacing your hand on his dark, wavy locks. Finding comfort in one another amidst the problems, wishing to stay like this for all time. Finally pulling away from each other as the two of you catch your breath.

Marc adored your sight, making him softened. You cupped his face, leaning on your touch, before you yawned as the exhaustion set in. He carefully rolls onto his side, pulling you to him. Facing the open window, you stared at the view outside. The flood of warmth started to envelope you, closing your eyelids as the gentle hum of wind serenading you to a peaceful slumber.

He hugged your figure tightly, placing a chaste kiss on your temple. Letting out a contented sigh from his lips as if nothing matters in the world. All he wanted was to be with you, to protect you and keep you safe for the rest of his life, even if it would cost him more.

[wincore]

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” 

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan. 

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly. 

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that. 

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you. 

You shake it off. 

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer. 

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks. 

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

-

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates. 

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face. 

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue. 

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile. 

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes. 

“Sungchan?!” 

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!” 

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face. 

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity. 

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.” 

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns. 

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on. 

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention. 

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys. 

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling. 

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love. 

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile. 

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation. 

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.  

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on. 

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones. 

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts. 

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you. 

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm. 

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes. 

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls. 

"Do you have any bandaids?" 

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.” 

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you. 

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind. 

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers. 

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans. 

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him. 

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade. 

-

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan. 

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead. 

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly. 

“Hm?” 

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that. 

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field. 

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding. 

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave. 

“You should,” he responds, honest. 

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile. 

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties. 

Only one more match, you remind yourself. 

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this. 

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all. 

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile. 

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty. 

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

-

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you. 

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading. 

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care. 

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk. 

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild. 

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

[littlesniggy]

Devine Juice

Anon: Heyo! How are ya? I hope all is well! I was wondering if I could get Zoro with a chubby fem s/o who wants him to help her lose weight but he gets a turned on my her. He tries to make a move but she’s too shy. He thinks it’s cute, and works through it and makes his move. Nsfw please!

If not have a lovely day/night and have some good vibes!

-🥐 annon

Hey Anon! Thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it! I honestly have no idea how Zoro would be in a relationship other than still being lazy but I think it's not too far off. Maybe.

Pairing: Zoro x chubby fem! reader

Warning: 18+, nsfw, smut, insecure reader, tongue and finger f******

Word count: 1,7k

“Huh? Help you lose weight?” Zoro looked up at you from his lying position, his eyes wandering up and down your body. “How come?” he asked, his eyes lingering a little too long on your curvy hips. “I like the way you look.” He added. You blushed slightly, fidgeting with your fingers and looking at your feet, not noticing his wandering eyes.

“I…I just want to get in shape a little more.” You said quietly, not telling him that you might or might not be a little insecure about your body, especially since the two of you haven’t done the naughty thing yet. You were wondering what he would think about your body. You weren’t wearing anything that didn’t suit your body – you knew you were looking good – but it was always a different thing seeing someone in clothes and seeing someone naked.

“What were you thinking about?” You looked at him, a little bit confused, blushing about your thought. “W-what?” you stuttered. Zoro raised an eyebrow and sat up. “What kind of training do you want to do? Cardio? Muscle? Both?” “U-uhm….I guess cardio is the best way to lose weight…” you suggested. Zoro nodded and got up into a standing position.

“Then let’s get going!” he announced, walking past you towards the training room he was always using. “What? Right now?” you asked, following him. “But I have to get changed into work out clothes before!” Zoro sighed and looked at you over his shoulder. “Fine. But hurry! Your training is about to start!”

It was harder for Zoro than it was for you. Not that this light training he was doing with you had him sweating or anything but he always had to look over to you. You were too focused on doing squads, not realizing that he had stopped moving, his eyes following a small bead of sweat running down your neck and disappearing in your cleavage. He slowly moved around you as if he was checking if you were doing it right but honestly he just wanted to take a look at your butt sticking out every time you crouched down.

Wild fantasies came to his mind when seeing your legs tense up and easing again. He imagined your legs wrapping around his hips – or better yet his head – as he made you cum over and over again. Now it was his turn to not notice how you stopped and looked at him, face red from the workout.

You tried to catch his attention but he seemed to be lost in thought. Confused, you knitted your eyebrows together and caught the bulge between his legs out of the corners of your eyes. A gasp escaped your lips, snapping Zoro back into reality.

“Did you say anything, Y/n?” he asked. You pointed down at his crotch, your face now beet red from embarrassment and you averted your eyes. Zoro’s face turned red Immedeatly but he caught himself soon after.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it. You’re just too….tempting.” he said, making you blush even further if that was possible.

“D-don’t say something like this when I’m sweating like an animal.” Your voice was meek, barely audible. How could he say something like this in a situation like this? You were not looking sexy in any way right now! But Zoro seemed to have a different opinion on this matter.

“If you could see yourself right now you’d think the same.” He chuckled, coming closer to you. Instinctively, you made a step back and Zoro stopped, looking at you a little bit concerned. “You okay?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?” why were you backing away? Did he scare you?

“I-it’s nothing.” You tried to play it down but he didn’t buy it. “Tell me.” He made another step towards you, halting right in front of you and looking you in the eyes. Butterflies filled your stomach; you bit your lips, unconsciously inhaling his scent. He smelled so nice. Zoro put a hand under your chin, lifting it up. You hadn’t even noticed that you were staring at the floor in front of you.

“Tell me.” He insisted again, his calloused thump gently stroking your bottom lip. “I….I just feel a little insecure.” You answered reluctantly but honestly. “Why? What could you possible feel insecure about?” it was a genuine question and it made your heart flutter. How could he not see your potential insecurity? Especially since he was simply ripped.

“You’re the most beautiful woman I know.” God, he was making this really hard for you. Every word coming from his mouth, every honest compliment he made had your insecurities pushed to the furthest corner of your mind – little by little.

He leaned down, his lips only brushing against yours.

“I’ve noticed that you keep pushing our first time further and further away, always finding an excuse. First I thought you didn’t like me.” His hot breath ghosted your skin, his low voice making your knees weaker.

“I love you.” You said, almost sounding like you were defending yourself. You didn’t want him to think you didn’t like him – cause the opposite was true!

“I know. And I love you, too. But now I get why you did it. And I have to tell you your reason is stupid.” Ouch. “It’s not stupid. It’s normal to feel insecure about your body from time to time.”

“But you don’t need to. Maybe I have to show you just how perfect I think you and your body are.” He closed the distance, giving you no option to protest as he started kissing you. His hands moved over your arms and rested on your hips, lazily massaging your hips.

Then, his hands moved up, under your sweaty shirt, slowly pulling it up and over your head. You tried to hide yourself from his eyes but he gently pushed your arms down, looking at your body.

“You wanna know what exactly I like about your body?” No sound left your mouth as hhe moved his lips to your mouth. “Your lips….” he kissed your neck. “And your neck….” Lips touching your collarbone. “…and this part….” Your face heated up again when his hands found their way under your sports bar, pulling it off as well. “And especially those two.” He grinned, burying his face between your breasts, his hands massaging the soft flesh.

You let out a small moan, your look one of arousal and embarrassment. He moved further down, kissing your belly, appreciating every single inch with either his mouth or his rough hands until he stopped at your waistband. He looked up at you, waiting for you to either give him permission or stop. You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slightly.

Zoro pulled your leggings down, leaving you in your panties. His hands moved up and down your legs, massaging the flesh there as well. The closer he got to your core the wetter you got. Kneeling in front of you, he must be seeing the dark stain on the fabric. He grinned at you, licking his lips before letting his tongue glide over your clothed sex, making you moan and your legs quiver.

He pulled you down to lay on your back, positioning himself between your legs.

“Do you know how much I’ve waited for this, Y/n?” he whispered, his hands hooking under the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down, exposing your wet heat to his eyes. “Z-Zoro…” you started but stopped, not knowing why you said his name. The swordsman smiled at you before he made himself comfortable between your legs, laying on his stomach, his hands hooked under your thighs and holding them in place while he spread your legs.

“Itadakimasu.” He purred before his tongue licked over your slit, making your hips jerk against his mouth in response. Zoro pressed you down even further, rendering you unable to move too much. And that’s when he went to town.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking at it while circling his tongue over it. You moaned out in pleasure, throwing your had back. You could feel his grin against your wet core as he let go if your clit, sliding his tongue over your slit over and over again, making wet noises as he did. His tongue dipped inside your sex, ravishing every inch it could reach. Your juice was flowing out like a river as he tongue fucked you, your legs trying to get free from his grip.

You couldn’t hold back your moans, even when you pressed your hands against your mouth, not doing too much to muffle the shameless sounds.

“Zoro…!” you gasped as he sucked at your clit again. His one arm let go of your thigh, entering your sex with two fingers and moving them in and out, curling them inside of you in just the right angle.

You managed to get his other hand off your thigh somehow as well and wrapped your legs around his head, pushing him closer into you. You heard him groan in pleasure as he picked up his pace, licking up every bit of your sweet juice and slowly driving you to your orgasm.

“Shit…Zoro! I-I’m gonna….!” But it was too late and you came with a breathtaking orgasm that knocked all the air out of your lungs.

Your muscles slowly relaxed, Zoro still drinking the sweet nectar between your legs. Nothing was to be wasted!

Breathlessly, you laid there, trying to get a clear thought again. Zoro got up from between your legs, licking up the rest of your cum from his mouth, grinning wide.

“Do you still feel insecure? Do you still wanna postpone our first time together?” His smirk was almost cocky, knowing you wouldn’t say no after he just drank you like you were a bottle of his booze.

You grinned at him as well, confidence filling your body. “Then show me what you’ve got. I can take more.”

[dumbdemonslayertexts]

Heads and Tails - chapter 2

Pairing: baji keisuke x black reader

Warnings: violence and cursing

Summary: Baji meeting his little boo in highschool.

you felt like a delinquent, approaching the school out of uniform like you had. though, there was really no reason to don the blouse and skirt ensemble... not today at least. the scrap you'd ended yesterday had promptly earned you a week's suspension. really-- what work of destiny got its kicks out of throwing a mindless gaggle of schoolbitches in your face and starting all this? all you wanted was to escape the den of hell your life had become thanks to your older brothers and keep your head low in Tokyo with your mother, so what was the cosmos’ damn problem?

you didn't know, and could only sigh. at least bestie had been the one party to come away clean from faculty. and your spirits were also lifted from her run down of things, given to you over the phone the night before.

"get the hell outta here, you slid her that quick?"

"oh yeah, you know i did. i know what i'm doing, trust me. she barely got that weak little hit in that she tried before i had her on the ground."

"bitch tapped out?"

"tapped all the way out."

your head was thrown back by now with your laughter. you had been just as taken by surprise by it as her attacker evidently had been. "bitch, that's my frienddddd!" you sang out, chuckling again as you tipped over onto your bed. she laughed along with you, beaming in her own pride about your performance that day before the mood gave a shift.

"i can't believe they gave you a week and they only got three days," she lamented. and she wasn't alone in that. though you weren't at all shocked that your punishment was harsher than anyone else's, you couldn't help but have your mind linger there. it worried you, too, but while she was fretting over your scholastic impact (too good for this world), your train of thought was still quite singular in all things considered.

on a sigh you admitted back to her, "yeah, that's what i'm worried about."

"how do you mean..?"

you clicked your tongue and whined, "i mean they're some punk ass mean girl wannabes and they'll try that shit on you again..!"

you could hear her touched gasp, then the endeared little coo on her end of the line, and couldn't help but smile in return. "shut up."

"you're my best friendddddd." she sang to you, mimicking your earlier tone.

"shut up!" you whined again, cheesing. she probably knew how grateful you were to have her, but the fuzzy feelings you had to put aside for now, "i gotta go anyway, i ain't made dinner yet."

"it's so sweet how you cook for your mom."

"i hate you, bye."

you were antsy the entire day over your timing. tactical missions weren't exactly your strong point, so you were sweating over when the right time would be to be waiting on the grounds: to intercept bestie immediately as school was out, but not so early as to be caught by a morals committee snitch or any other free faculty when you were fresh on a suspension.

when the anxiety had crawled its way high enough to be rattling your eyeballs, you left out for the school courtyard. the way you figured, there would be some place or another to hide out if you caught sight of any potential problems. the possibility of a rebound gang-up was too high in your mind-- especially with the added confidence of your absence. those girls could've been anywhere. or sent anyone. they didn't seem like the type to understand a lesson only given to them once anyway. you were so acutely paranoid of a repeat, that you'd spent the entire afternoon and evening adjusting your hair for round two. you hadn't wanted to use your braiding hair to do feed-ins for a bun, you'd wanted to do box braids. but now they'd have to wait. the bun would be more practical. in the end, your disappointment was short lived. it wasn't what you'd planned, but the style still was pretty. and this way, your newly gifted hair-tie wouldn't go to waste.

you'd made it a little after the last bell, from what you could tell of things. students were just starting to come through the doors and spill onto the spacious plain of pavement separating the building from the street. with your eyes peeled, you hurried up the sidewalk to the school's front commons, moving with light feet--

"oi."

to be caught before you could even pass the steps.

turning to the intrusive voice, you matched stares with a short and dark-eyed blond, leaning against a motorcycle. and you were swiftly confused. this boy wasn't on the morals committee, clearly. he wasn't even in uniform. so what could he have wanted from--

"you're baji's girl, right?" his mellow voice asked. your forehead creased, and as precautionary measure, you looked around to see if there had been anyone else he may have meant. but he spoke again, after rubbing a pensive finger over his chin, like he'd known your name but forgotten it. "from yesterday."

"...i'm who?" you asked, glaring at him like he was undeniably crazed, before your neck nearly snapped to search the grounds behind you. you were here for bestie-- this boy had distracted you far too easily.

"relax! hey," he chuckled, far too chill. it reeled in your highly skeptical attention, and slowly, you turned to face him again. now you found him smiling, "i gave your friend a lift, she's home already."

your brows furrowed deeper than you'd ever felt them, and he responded with a closed-eyed grin before adding, "safe and sound."

you had to interrupt your own careening train of thought with your voice, and when it came, it was a tad snappier than you'd presumed it would be. "--who are you..!"

he didn't seemed fazed by it, when you were actually kinda positive you were starting to look insane your own self.

"i'm your ride," he answered, still unnervingly chill... and cheesing his ass off. and your time to ask questions was being cut short, as he began to mount his bike just after that non-intro he'd given you. as bound as you clearly still were to cluelessness, he held out a helmet for you. with that, it seemed he was finished with explanations for now, save for one. "baji had something he wanted you to see."

you stood, dumbfounded. maybe even with your jaw hanging. but he just gently nudged you a little further, voice still even and tepid-- as though there were nothing at all troubling with a stranger offering a motorbike ride outside of school.

"come on, I'll take you, it's quicker by bike," his heel nudged the kickstand free. and some unspoken force made you sure that there was no way to get out of going along. "i'll ride smooth for you, that helped your friend."

you wanted to decline, but some hypnotic inclination compelled you. this was the second mysterious boy to appear from nowhere before you, and your reaction was two for two. silently, you reached for the helmet he offered, and took a wobbly, unsure seat at his back.

"hold on to me, okay?" he said softly, waiting until your headgear was snugly secured. the engine exploded on, making your entire body rumble with its massive vibrations, "nice and smooth."

your arms curled around his lithe waist, and you could hear him laughing when the sudden motion and building speed drew a squeal out of you. yet, to your surprise, he kept to his word of making the drive as smooth as possible for you. his braking was gentle and his turns easy. on top of that, the ride was shorter than you expected-- maybe five or six blocks from the school.

what really caught you by surprise, though, was the destination. you'd expected to arrive outside of someone's house, or a park... some sort of meetup or hangout spot. this dude stopped you both at a sidewalk just at the side of some random street. granted, it was a street you hadn't been on, but still... you couldn't really fathom what could be shown to you here that couldn't have been shown to you at school.

it as only when you saw two other blonds-- one far taller than anyone else present, and another with an undercut-- both looking around your age, that you began to make any sense of this.

then, a bit ahead of the rest, you saw a head of raven tresses that effortlessly caught your eye.

"come on, come on," your driver ushered you along with no real hurry to his tone, "he's already gonna talk shit about me bringing you here late," he cut the bike engine and cut through your scattered thoughts, letting down the kickstand and dismounting. the greetings of the others to him sort of flew over your head-- you were too busy trying to not fuck up your brand new installed style with this fucking helmet to pay any attention to them. and trying to piece together who the fuck baji could be. but when the thing finally popped from your head, you inadvertently matched gazes with the same, amused set of golden eyes that had been grinning at your scraggly headed self slumped on the floor, just the previous day.

the look he wore changed almost immediately-- from what looked like a resting bitch face, to some kick over seeing you, to a dazzled and taken aback double-take once he saw your hair. his reaction made you feel like you were blushing; below a surprised frown his lips formed a tight 'o' in a silent wolf whistle, while he smoothed a hand over his hair-- gesturing just how much he liked your new braided up-do.

but he stood at a distance from the others, his body angled more up the street as he faced the bunch you were near. what was he doing? waiting for something?

"oi, baji. special delivery!" the blond called to him in english, making him chuckle lowly. you couldn't help but think that he was referring to you.

"uh-huh. it took you long enough! what--did you two stop at the salon on the damn way?" he barked back.

"you're one to fucking talk."

you were already about to yell over their shit talking and ask what the hell you had been delivered here for, but the short blond addressed you again.

"baji told us about your fight at school yesterday."

you felt your face crumpling in confusion-- especially seeing the muted grins of the other two at the mention of the day before, but he kept on as though this were a normal conversation. "he says your brothers taught you well."

that now counted two times that your brothers had been brought up by a complete stranger. it was well past uncomfortable to you, now.

"... what am i here for..?" you asked. a ton of dread suddenly hit you, feeling like a flush of ice. were you being auditioned for some sort of underground fight club? did these boys have a group of their girlfriends coming to jump you so you could replay the scrap yesterday to their satisfaction? or had your brothers somehow made enemies of a rival gang even overseas? because you certainly couldn't recall ever seeing any of these faces at school before...

"to watch him put on a show," the tallest blond of the trio droned you answer. his voice was low and mature, and though the sides and back of his head were completely shaven, vaguely like someone would do for a mohawk, he had a long plaited ponytail of the hair that was left. he sounded *over* whatever this was before it even started. but you were too distracted to be entirely certain, eyeing the dragon tattoo he had edging below his hair. "you impressed him so he wants to do the same."

you wanted to ask more, but that familiar, deep voice caught your attention by calling out from down the sidewalk, drawing your eyes to him and maybe five other dudes approaching behind him from the other end of the street.

"gotta show you what kinda ass-kickin' you can dish out when your hair ain't in the way."

his voice was only elevated enough to reach the four of you; aside from that, he seemed totally collected. and with five guys coming his way who looked more than hostile, you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by him. without even fully facing the approaching group, he pulled another hair tie free from his pocket. he chose then to look you dead in your eyes, making your heart stall as he bit down on the elastic to gather his hair. he looped it into a high pony more slickly than you'd ever seen done, releasing it with a chuckle leaving his lips just as the opposing boys had approached him. "eyes on me, punchy fights."

that drew full chuckles from the others. you remained in the dark yet again, unaware of just how much you had been discussed by these four.

"so it was a good fight?" mikey asked, hearing baji bring up the scuffle the school grapevine had been murmuring over.

chifuyu pressed with his own questions, too, "at our school? during school?"

"and a two on one..." draken probed.

"hell yeah, american girl's nothing to fuck with. stomped their asses pretty shittin' good," he continued to brag, cheesing til his cheeks were sore. "and got brothers, too. you can tell they taught her some solid shit."

mikey hummed. highschool was boring on most accounts-- having a girl or two around that helped things stay less mind-numbing was a prospect he welcomed. "damn. i'm kinda mad i missed it, now. i haven't seen a good fight with girls in a long time. there's too much hair pulling most of the time."

"there'll be another one. she embarrassed some girls that were trying to build a rep," draken insisted. he knew of the levels of pride and pettiness in highschool kids wanting to make a name for themselves, even outside of the underground world.

"and with plenty'a punches," baji assured, "all hers are gonna be punchy fights, guaranteed."

he had barely turned when he took out the first one. it was an impossible act of physics: his arm extended straight out with a fist at its end, gripping the guy to snatch in for a headbutt and sending him to the ground, unconscious. now you were sure that the right response was to be terrified by baji. the next he took down while dodging a fist they threw, locking their arm to his side in a spin that turned his back to them, then throwing an elbow into their nose.

...he was fighting like how stuntmen performed choreography in action movies. none of it made sense-- nothing like that should have: no strength level, no fighting technique, nothing conducive to a dude winning a five-on-one should have ever existed. but within the next thirty seconds, he had.

two he had taken out at once, too quickly for you to register just how it happened-- but a beast-like throw of one he caught by the arm into the other laid the both of them out cold.

when the last lunged at him, he swung them round in a headlock, facing you with a thrilled grin shining on his face. it was the energy that belonged to a boy showing off a new action figure to his friends, not flaunting his next victim in a melee. this boy, you realized much much too late, was beyond dangerous.

"ne, punchy fights. recognize the face on this asshole?" he asked you, laughter clear in his voice. well, you assumed he had meant you, but you couldn't make out any resemblance and could only shake your head 'no', half in shock. he laughed again, socking the kid in his chokehold... once, then twice, then a third time. he kept at it, his cheshire grin stretching wider with each blow. when he'd crunched his knuckles into the bones of their face a seventh time, he stopped. "how 'bout now?"

you still drew a blank. but he didn't keep you hanging too long.

"those two you took on yesterday. they got brothers, too. the girl your friend beat down's got a cousin. and alllll three of 'em ran home and told on ya," he finally announced, like you would get the grandest delight from it. "so these asswipes were on their way to try some bullshit on you for fuckin' em up like you did and gettin' their little sisses and cousin suspended. ain't that right, you fuckin' pussy?" he asked the pulped up face leaking in the crook of his elbow, "thought you could come fuck with some girls cause you didn't teach your own blood how to fight for shit..." the guy didn't answer-- he'd been out since about the third or fourth hammer to his face.

with no further use for him, your twisted black haired vigilante threw him to the ground, no longer bothered with any of them now that they were smeared across the pavement, beaten.

when he'd reached the rest of you, none of the blonds acted as though this was out of the norm at all, and it put you I'll at ease. truthfully, you had been rattled to your core just hearing that one word come from him, as buried as it was in the rest. it echoed in your head the second he said it, and wouldn't stop. blood.

hearing it shook you like you'd seen a ghost. you couldn't even place your attention where it should have been: whatever this plot was that had been foiled by baji.

his smile was directly on you now, close enough for you to see those sharp canines clearly. "you tied that up with the one i gave you?" he asked, nodding to your new feed-ins.

your face heated up in a blaze when you remembered you had.

"yeah," you answered, "you said quit brawling like i had short hair."

a feral smirk crawled into his lips slowly, and the drawn out chuckle he responded with made you terrified again. something about the consequences of gaining this dude's attention boded negatively with you. it felt too familiar, and now, too close.

"looks good."

"maybe you can help ken-chin, he braids sloppy," the one who drove you said, making the tallest blond sneer.

"shut up, mikey."

you observed the four of them as they fell into a banter among themselves, trying to make out their connections to one another. and it didn't slip your notice that mr. five-straight-knockouts was closest to you, nearly shoulder to shoulder as you all collectively loitered there.

"that's your name for me, now? punchy fights?" you asked him coolly, trying to stay below enough on the radar so as to not interrupt the others. he blinked, eyeing you sideways, so intensely that your heart kicked against your chest. he gave it a moment to calm, though, slipping the tie from his silky head and shaking out the tightness left behind.

there was no answer he gave. in fact, there wasn't a word further at all that he directed to you. instead he called out "chifuyu" (who you learned to be the blond with the undercut), before suggesting that they go eat, leaving you bewildered as they all then left you alone with your ride.

"ah, no invites yet," he turned to you, beaming with his hands in his pockets, "i'm still your ride. ready for me to take you home?"

you snorted, "i can walk home right from where you picked me the fuck up, mikey-san," you answered with a brow cocked, causing him to blink. it caught him by surprise-- but after a tense, quiet moment between the two of you, you could see to your relief that it was a pleasant surprise.

"you're smart. i see why baji's impressed," he commended. you had just met him and been introduced to his delinquency, and thought that through before accepting his offer to take you home. why that didn't offend him was beyond you, but he was very pleased.

"so let's get you outta here, then, punchy-chan."

◁◁previous chapter

[fightxxmexxshiggy]

Can you do a bakugou smut where bakugou liked to do the do in the shower bc his quirk doesn't go off on his S/O? If it makes you uncomfortable then it's fine, please and thank you! ❤

Power outage and the grenade.

The power goes out and cause you and BAKUGOU to think outside the box.

TW: shower sex, domination, degradation, breeding kink.

Word count 1400

Today was just not your day. Some ridiculous villain had caused a city wide power outage during an attack in the middle of summer. If that weren't bad enough this week had just been forecast as a record breaking heatwave. You had opened all the windows to get a breeze going in the house but it really wasn't doing you any good at this point seeing as you were sweating more than your live grenade of a boyfriend. You had stripped down to lay on your bed so you could at least melt in comfort when you heard your apartment door open and shut. The sound of heavy boots being tossed at the wall and close dropping to the floor was all the announcement you received to your mans arrival home.

" princess you look like a damn corpse! What the hell are you doing?"

You mumbled that you were trying to melt in comfort before his loud ass interrupted you. He started to shout again only to release a small explosion as he stepped towards the bed. You jumped up much to your tired bodies protest ready to kick his ass out of the house. Only when you looked at him you could see the frustration written on his face. This wasn't his usual expression when he was frustrated this was something more. When you reached out for him he jumped back and held his hands up like a criminal.

"Don't look at me like that baby I wanna touch you but this heat is fucking with my quirk and I keep letting off random explosions without knowing the force that will come out. That bastard fucked my whole day up! I got sent home early and I can't touch my fucking princess!"

While Katsuki growled and ranted you got more and more upset. The one time he gets to come home early and he couldn't even touch you without potential maiming you?! You sat back on the barely listening to him. After a few moments without a response from you he stopped and looked at your heartbroken expression. Standing completely still, he radiated worry and anger before walking out of the room. You heard the shower turn on and guessed he was trying to relax himself. Before you could lay back in your original position you heard Katsuki calling for you.

"Princess get your ass in here!"

You shuffled down the hall slowly to hot and tired to walk normally. Once in the bathroom you were shocked to see Katsuki grining at you. You were also shocked at just how good that man looked wet. The water was running down his skin tracing all the lines and dips that your tongue had traced a thousand times before. Standing halfway in the doorway you give a little whimper, annoyed that he would tease you like this when you weren't able to touch each other. He let's out a cruel chuckle and beckons you forward, croaking two fingers in your direction. You take a few steps forward only to stop an arms length away from the shower.

"Don't look so dumb, princess. The waters canceling out my quirk. So long as we stay under the spray I can fuck that needy little cunt all night."

You thought for a moment about the high water bill you would have next month. But you could honestly give a fuck less at this point. Climbing into a shower with Katsuki had never felt so good. The water was cooling you down even as the feel of his body was warming you up. Katsuki wasted no time reaching between your thighs, arm curving over your ass as he did so. He rubbed the rim of your pussy hole making it clench and twitch at the stimulation. Katsuki was being so gentle and teasing that you jumped and squealed when he shoved two thick fingers inside. Your cry echoed off the walls of the bathroom.

Keeping his movements deep and hard Katsuki pressed his fingers against your gspot while swirling his thumb on your clit. The pleasure was immediately intense, making your knees do weak. You slumped against him, nails digging into his shoulders as you struggled to hold some of your own weight. His fingers began to curl against that hidden nerve with determination that only Katsuki would show. He was working your pussy like he owned it and damn it the man truly did. Just then his thumb sped up overwhelming you. You couldn't take it anymore and bit into his pec, right over his heart, with a scream. Katsuki groaned as he enjoyed the feel of your bullied little pussy squirting all over his hand.

"What's the matter princess? Your wettingly me more than this shower is."

You sobbed at his words, finally pulling away from his chest. As you were about to complain at him he spun you around, lining your ass up perfectly with his crotch. Katsuki, never one to waste time, grasped his cock and ran it up and down the length of your sensitive folds. The hard flesh bumped against your clit making you jerk forward. The growl behind you told you that that movement had been an epic mistake. The hand on your stomach slid up catching your throat in a firm grip. At the same moment the large head of his cock lined up with your hole. In one quick snap of his hips you were impaled on 10 and a half inches of thick cock. A strangled screaming left your throat, matching the shocking orgasm that tore threw you in the same moment.

"Put your fucking hands on the wall baby. Can't have you thinking you can get away from this cock any time soon."

The harsh slap on your ass following those words made your pussy clench and flutter. Following his demand you braced your hands on the wall, legs spread to take the hard fucking you were about to be gifted with. Katsuki's free hand cupped your breast, fingers tugging and rolling your nipple. His thrusts were brutal in the best way. His thick cock spread you open while ramming against your cervix. The force of them had you leaning further into the wall until your elbows rested there. You sobbed every time he held himself deep and ground against your clit.

The pleasure was consuming you, the sound of your wet skin slapping together echoed through the bathroom amplify every sensation. A constant stream of whining left your throat as you begged to be filled. Katsuki tightened the hand on your throat and hammered his cock inside you, fighting to release all of his frustration into your willing pussy. Changing the angle of his hips Katsuki relinquished his hold on your breast only to begin spanking your clit with every thrust.

"You like that don't you princess. Having your clit slapped while I fuck this needy little cunt of yours. Can't getting deep enough inside you. Damn it baby I'm gonna fuck that womb of yours one day, gonna make sure theres no way your not bred by the time I'm done with you."

His words crashed over you like a title wave, forcing you to cum harder than you ever had before. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your pussy locked down on the fat cock splitting you in two. The grip of your walls dragged a deep groan from Katsuki's chest as well as a hot load of cum. The shots of cum bathed your cervix dragging out your orgasm till you were limp and barely conscious. Slowly Katsuki lowered you both to the floor of the shower were you stayed as your breathing returned to normal. Cuddling on the shower floor had not been on your list of things to do today but it definitely wasn't something you would complain about.

"Princess I think we're gonna be here a while why don't you grab some snacks so I down murder our fridge and then I'll see about eating that pussy clean."

You didn't have to be told twice. You untangled yourself from your calm, wet boyfriend and proceeded to crawl out of the bathroom to the kitchen. Using your legs still wasn't on the the table after that fuck but snacks and being snacked on were worth looking silly for.

[titan-fodder]

Find a Way Chapter 4

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Rating: M (mature; mdni)

Count: ~5.6k

Tags/Warnings: Miche feeling and being generally awkward, Eruri, friends roasting friends, fluff

A/N: i really cannot impress upon y’all how fun this is to write. 

Miche blinks at the rows of boxes in front of him, nearly identical in size and shape, stacked on shelves underneath their own, respective display platforms.

Shoes. 

Tennis shoes. 

Women's tennis shoes. 

He knows what he's looking for, for the most part, he's just… Having trouble reasoning with himself. 

Because he knows it's ridiculous, presumptuous, could potentially get him into trouble, but he can't help it. He's had this need for weeks, and now he's finally been given the opportunity (unbeknownst to you), so he figured he'd jump at it. He just hopes it doesn't offend you. 

The knowledge that you've been walking around in the hospital wearing sneakers on the verge of falling apart has haunted Miche since the first day he ran into you downtown, has made his eye twitch every time he caught sight of the frayed canvas and separating soles. 

He hadn't woken up this morning with the intention of going shopping, but after noticing your shoes by his front door, he was reminded of the annoyance and made up his mind then and there. It had almost been distracting enough to get rid of the flippy little feeling in his stomach. You were asleep upstairs, in his bed, probably looking adorably rumpled in his sheets as you fought off whatever bug you'd caught. 

Standing in the aisle now, Miche tries to convince himself that the dizzying sensation of affection and excitement had played no part in him bolting early this morning, but he knows himself too well. It was necessary to put some distance between you and himself simply to get his head on straight. 

How had he even found the courage to bring you to the loft? Miche feels like he's been nothing but flustered around you since the two of you met, so where the hell had that boldness come from? Was it born of protectiveness, the desire to keep you safe and well? Or was it something else, something deeper? 

And, how are you taking it? Are his advances as welcome as you're letting on, or are you just humoring him? Oh god, he's probably just creeping you out and coming on too strong. And, you're probably too intimidated to say anything, feeling pressured and uncomfortable and—

His mind is getting away from him. Here in the sneaker section of the shoe store. He needs to relax. He needs to ground himself. It's all fine. He's fine. You're fine. In his apartment with a note to wake up to. 

RUNNING ERRANDS. BE BACK SOON. MAKE YOURSELF COMFORTABLE.

M

He hopes you'll take it to heart, that he'll get back home to find you sprawled on his couch with Minnie and Remy, hopefully having sweated out your fever overnight. 

Miche shakes the mental image out of his head then slides his phone from his back pocket and pulls up one of his most recent contacts.

Erwin answers on the third ring, voice raspy when he greets Miche. 

"Did I wake you up?" Miche grins, can almost see his best friend roll his eyes. 

"No, I just sound like this from all the dick I sucked last night—Yes, you woke me up," Erwin snaps halfheartedly. "It's nine AM."

"You know, ever since you and Levi got together, I can never tell when you're joking about stuff like that," Miche snorts, opting against the jab about nine in the morning not being even remotely early. 

Erwin sighs on the other end, and Miche can hear the sound of creaking, assumes the other man is rolling out of bed. 

"What do you want?" 

"I need your opinion on something."

"Better be good. My alarm wasn't supposed to go off for another hour."

"Jesus, that's, like, half the day wasted," Miche tsks. 

"Bite me, Zacharias." 

Definitely been spending too much time with Levi. Which is what you're kind of supposed to do in a relationship, but still, when Miche introduced the two of them, he had no idea the small pedi doctor would be able to bring out a side of Erwin that Miche has never seen in their years of being friends, the once proper and slightly pompous man finally letting his guard down and allowing himself to be a normal fucking person. 

"Anyway," Miche ignores, powering through to the original reason for his alleged early morning call. "Hypothetically speaking, would it be weird if I bought a girl shoes without her knowing I was buying her shoes?" 

It's silent for a few moments until Erwin mutters, "I have... so many questions. But, to answer yours, yes, it's absolutely weird. Unless…"

"Unless what?" 

"Are they sexy shoes? Heels for a special date?" 

Miche scoffs and reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They're work shoes—like, tennis shoes."

"Yeah, definitely a little weird."

Groaning to himself, Miche accepts the truth—he's sort of known it all along—then braces himself for the interrogation he's about to receive. 

"Lucky for you, your default sitting is a little weird, so whoever it is shouldn't be all that surprised."

"I can always count on you to knock me down a peg when I get too confident." Miche clicks his tongue, listening to Erwin's Keurig spitting out whatever brew of coffee he's chosen this morning. 

"You bet your sweet ass you can. Now, about this girl—"

"I'll give you the abridged version," Miche tells him while picking up an Adidas sneaker and examining it. "Met in a grocery store, then at a bar, then in the med center. Had lunch a lot, and it's just kinda spiraled."

"Is she cute?" 

Miche wrinkles his nose, picturing your face and how it felt to feel it against his hand when he'd checked for fever the previous night. 

"Well, yeah."

"Are you having sex?" 

Of course that would be his followup question. Pervert. 

"No."

"Do you want to?"

"I don't know," Miche answers honestly. Because he really doesn't. Naturally, that basic part of his brain has thought about it, but his more developed, more rational brain is hesitant. You're in totally different places in life, and there are no doubt plenty of guys your age who could fill that role, who you could relate to better, and—it's just complicated. 

Erwin sounds like he's personally offended by Miche's vague answer when he asks, "What do you mean you don't know? She's cute. She's a doctor, I'm guessing—"

"Not quite," Miche cringes. 

"So, what, a nurse? There's nothing wrong with that."

"She's not a nurse, Erwin. She's…"

"Spit it out," Erwin demands before taking a loud sip of coffee. 

"She's still in med school."

The unmistakable sound of Erwin swallowing then sucking his teeth rings in Miche's ear, and again, he prepares himself. 

"What year?" 

Deep breath. "First."

"You dirty fucking dog."

"Dude, please—"

"Never thought you'd be the type."

"Levi is, like, ten years younger than you!" As soon as he says it, Miche knows it's a bad comparison. 

"Big difference between ten and—what—fifteen?"

He's right, and Miche feels gross just thinking about it, but it's too late. He's already just a little too smitten. 

"Okay, well, I don't even know if anything's gonna happen, so it's irrelevant."

"For now." 

Miche just knows the other man is smirking, and he so wishes he was right next to him so that he could punch the smug expression right from his friend's face. "I'll just give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that she's really mature or a prodigy or something."

Prodigy is a strong title, but Miche does know you make good grades in all your classes, so there's that at least. And, he's pretty sure you're mature. That's what he's gathered so far. You still possess that bubbly nature that many girls in their mid-twenties have, but you can hold an adult conversation and aren't quite as reckless as other young people. 

Young people. Miche feels like a fucking boomer just thinking it, the image of Steve Buscemi holding a skateboard over his shoulder flashing through his mind. How do you do, fellow kids?

Yeah, there’s no way he can go through with this. He’s just gonna buy the shoes, force them into your hands, then send you on your merry way and maybe help with a stray anatomy question here and there. That’s it, that’s all—

Miche hears the chime of a text in his ear even through the bullshit Erwin is currently spewing, and he pulls his phone away to look at the call screen, seeing a banner at the top that shows he has a new text. A text from you. With an image attached.

Breathing through pursed lips, he clicks on it, immediately greeted by a photo of you still laying in his bed, wrapped in his sheets, with a certain wolfhound sprawled on top of you. Remy is curled up by your face, and your eyes are only half open, a little smile lifting the cheek that isn’t buried in Miche’s pillow.

Hope the dogs are allowed on the bed.

Of course they are. Anything you want to do on the bed is allowed, Miche thinks only to immediately berate himself. 

So, maybe just handing off the shoes and distancing himself isn’t an option. Not at this point, anyway. Not when he’s in this deep. 

He may be subjecting himself to some embarrassment by seeing this through to wherever it may lead, but… Maybe it’ll be worth it. 

Eventually finding a way to end the one-sided conversation with Erwin, Miche does a little more research on the best shoes for hospital work (refusing to acknowledge that Crocs are among the top) and settles on a pair of Nike Shocks that a fair number of Reddit users recommend. Durable, good for being on your feet all day, and still pretty fashionable as far as tennis shoes go.

He makes one more stop before returning to the loft, the nearby grocery store where he fills a cart with enough food to last you at least a couple weeks. He thinks, if anything, that’s what you’ll get angry about, but he just can’t help himself. You’ll either have to deal with it or stop talking to him. Hopefully, you’ll opt for the former. 

~

You feel loads better than you did the day before—still a little congested with a slight itch to your throat, but your headache has disappeared along with your fever. You move around Miche’s apartment, trying not to disturb too much as you snoop explore. You don’t know how long he’s been gone, having left before you woke up, but since you got out of bed, it’s been about an hour. 

It’s when you’re with the dogs at the little park across the street that you see his Mercedes pull into the lot, not even a little surprised at the way your stomach flips. 

The way he had been so soft with you last night—it’s not something you’ll forget any time soon, if ever. 

You watch from afar as he slides out of the vehicle and makes his way around to open it from the back. He loads himself down with bags of groceries just like every man does, then makes his way into the building. Minnie and Remy are resting in the grass after running around with one another, so you feel like now is as good a time as any to lead them back inside. 

Once off-leash, they both find Miche in the kitchen, Remy desperately jumping against his legs while Minnie simply noses into his hand. He squats down to scratch both behind the ears, and you have the absolutely outrageous thought that you wouldn’t mind getting similar treatment. 

You are being ridiculous, you tell yourself, attempting to calm your quickening heart rate, but it’s no use, especially when Miche looks up at you and flips hair from his eyes, hitting you with that crooked grin. 

“Hey, you,” he greets, and oh, you could melt.

Instead, you clear your throat and offer your own, “Hey, yourself.”

Straightening, he turns to the bags on the counter but not before asking, “Sleep okay last night?”

“Like a fucking rock,” you answer, though you do remember waking up once, just long enough to admire the shadows of Miche’s body when he’d changed for the night. Shaking the image from your head, you speak up again. “Thanks for sacrificing your bed. It’s ridiculously comfy—” followed by a thoughtless, “’m sad I’ve gotta go back to mine.”

Miche’s mouth twitches upward, and you squeeze your eyes shut, cringing to yourself. Why would you say that, why did you say that, you fucking freak, now he’s gonna think you never wanna leave, wanna fucking move in with him like some kind of stalker, fuck what is wrong with you?

“I’m glad you got a good night’s sleep. You needed it.”

“I really looked that bad?” You play. “Eesh.”

“What? N-no!” Miche turns around, and you’re blessed with his panicked expression, cheeks turning pink, stammering out a clumsy, “That’s no—I didn’t mean—You looked fine, just tired, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you smile, tongue poking out of your teeth, and Miche takes a deep breath.

“You really enjoy that, don’t you?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” you deny easily.

He squints at you, fighting the upturn of his lips as he sucks his teeth, then turns around to dig out a bag of chicken to throw in the freezer. 

“You’re all cute smiles now, but I have a feeling you’re about to be upset with me,” he tells you, and boy, does that get your attention, enough to detract from the fact that he just called your smile cute.

Cocking your head, you frown. “Why would I be upset with you?”

“Cause I think…” He chews on his lower lip, and you fixate on it until he speaks again. “I think I probably overstepped.”

“What do you mean? Like, last night?” You press, shaking your head before he can answer, “No, you didn’t—like, nothing about that was awkward for me or anything, but—”

“No, not last night. This morning while you were sleeping.” You raise your eyebrows because what the fuck is that supposed to mean? He must notice too, suddenly holds his hands out as if to steady himself. “That might be the creepiest thing that’s ever come out of my mouth, but I don’t mean it like—Anyway. I went shopping.”

“Yeah…?” You prompt, trying so hard not to giggle. How can a man this hot and this smart be so awkward? It doesn’t make any sense to you. 

“Yeah, and I—Here, I’ll just show you.” 

He grabs something out of one of the grocery bags, something that is not food of any kind, then hands it to you.

A small-ish cardboard box, easy to recognize due to its orange color and the check mark on the top. 

“You didn’t,” is all you say at first, opening the lid and staring down at a brand new pair of sneakers. “Miche, you did not.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I had to. Your old ones were giving me fucking heartburn, I swear to god.”

“How did you even know my size?”

“You left the ones you wore over here by the door, so I just kinda…” He trails off, and you think he just might split the skin of his lip with how much he’s nibbling on it. 

“Unbelievable,” you mutter, dropping the box on the countertop and running both of your hands through your hair. That mortification you felt the first night you met him rises in your chest, face heating so horribly, it’s making your eyes burn. You’re just some fucking charity case to him, aren’t you? Someone he’s taking pity on. Poor little college girl in need of his help. 

“Suppose this is a bad time to tell you these groceries are for you too,” he tacks on as if it’s nothing.

Pressing your tongue to the roof of your mouth, you let your head loll back, eyes on the ceiling as you fight the lump in your throat. Fuck, this is humiliating. 

You should be grateful, should probably kiss his fucking feet, but did he ever stop to think about how it actually makes you feel? All it does is remind you how pathetic you are, just a little rowboat taking in water as you try to make it to land, and here’s this fucking cruise ship, making waves big enough to knock you over, and—

Enough with the metaphors. The point is you’ve made it this far by yourself, so the fact that Miche thinks you need his help is insulting. 

You have every intention of telling him this, of stomping over to him and jabbing a finger in his broad chest, stand on your tiptoes, yell a little bit, then storm out of the apartment.

Then, you actually look at him, find his eyebrows knit together, gaze so worried as he watches for your reaction, and you realize this man cares so much for absolutely no reason, and it makes you ache.

So, with a voice thick with tears, you manage a quiet, “Thank you,” as you let the feeling of defeat wash over you.

He means no harm. You’re just so used to fighting, it’s hard to put down your proverbial shield. 

Sniffling, you wipe your nose with the back of your hand and look away, rolling your eyes when Miche quietly pleads (confesses more like), “For the love of god, please don’t cry in front of me, I will be absolutely helpless.”

You snort in a self-deprecating way then wave him off. "‘M not crying. I’m sick, remember?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah, let’s go with that. For my sake.”

Without looking at him, you shuffle around the little bar to get closer, wrapping your arms around his torso before you think about it for too long and back out. 

"You're an asshole," you mumble directly into his shirt. 

Miche laughs, the deep rumble soothing away some of your shame. "Yeah, sometimes."

You wait for a second, breathing in the smell of his cologne, then tilt your head to stare at him with what you know to be watery eyes. 

"Next time at least take me with you."

"Why?" He smirks. "Shoes not up to your standards?" 

You're caged against him in the best way, his hands locked behind your back as he peers down at you, and if you could only shimmy just the right way, let your fingers trace up his chest to his face, tug him down so that—

"What? No, I'm sure the shoes are great. I just like shopping," you tell him. Would probably enjoy it even more with you. 

"I'll keep that in mind next time I feel like pissing you off."

"Please do. It'll be a great bribe."

You stand like that for a while, too long to be casual, before breaking away and making your way back to the box on the countertop. Tossing paper to the side, you pull out both tennis shoes then take your time lacing them up the way you like, trying and failing to ignore Miche's eyes on you. 

The fit is fantastic, hugging your feet but still breathable with good arch support and a little bounce at the end of every step. It's a shocking difference from the ratty shoes you'd been wearing, and you wonder how in the world you survived as long as you did without getting a new pair. 

"Believe me, I did it for me just as much as I did it for you," Miche says, watching you pace around the apartment as you get a feel for them. "My blood pressure rose every time I saw those damn shoes. You know how dangerous it is to—"

"Yeah, yeah, I tried not to think about it," you dismiss. If you could've gotten new shoes, you would've. That's all there is to it. 

Miche sighs but seems to accept this, putting up a few more perishable food items only to have to take them out an hour later when you tell him that you need to get back home to study. 

The groceries go into reusable totes for easier transport. You put Remy's food and leash inside of one, then plop him in afterward just for laughs, picking him back up when he lets out an ear-piercing whine. 

"Okay, okay, I got you, geez." 

After loading up the car again, Miche drives back to your much less impressive apartment, helping carry your bags upstairs and even restocking your refrigerator and pantry with the groceries while you unpack your overnight bag. 

It's oddly domestic considering you still feel like you don't know Miche all that well, but that doesn't mean you don't like it. 

You step back out of your room just in time for Miche to shut the door to the freezer, dusting his hands off like he’s just finished a hard day’s work.

“Okay. I can sleep better tonight,” he says, winking when you scoff at him.

You grumble a low, “That makes one of us,” but refuse to mention anything more about how god damn comfortable his bed was. Don’t want to suggest anything.

“You should be used to getting shit sleep,” he tells you. “You’re a med student.”

Groaning, you run a hand through your hair. “Don’t remind me. I have a practical this week, and I am… Really not looking forward to it.”

He makes a face, sympathetic toward your plight. “Better hit the books, then. I’ll leave you to it.”

He grabs his keys from your counter, tossing them from one hand to another as he adds, “If there’s any material you think I might be able to help with, just text me.”

“I mean, I don’t wanna bother you or anything—”

“Not a bother,” he shrugs you off. “I have to run by the hospital, but it’s just to check a couple things. Other than that, I’m a free agent today.”

You nod, already contemplating what the appropriate wait time should be before texting him, and walk with him the short distance to your front door. Remy is hopping at Miche’s feet, begging for attention that he eventually earns in the form of an ear scratch, and then it’s time to say goodbye, time to return to life as you know it.

“So, I know that I didn’t… Receive it well initially,” you start, lightly kicking the floor with the toe of your shoe. “But, I really do appreciate… You know—” cue awkward cough. “—you. Everything you’ve, like… Done for me. And stuff.”

Glancing at Miche from the corner of your eye, you see him wearing that lopsided smile that makes you weak at the knees, and you feel like you need to grab onto something, hold on tight before you lose your balance and fall.

This time, Miche is the one who reaches out, gathers you close against him, and it turns out you were wrong—so fucking wrong—because now you have something to cling to, but all it does is make you dizzier, makes the ground wobble beneath your feet as blood pounds in your ears.

Your expression falls somewhere between dreamy and curious, eyes glazing, mouth barely opening in a silent question, and Miche seems to search your face. His gaze unlocks from yours to travel downward, only snapping back up when you wet your lips.

He lets out a sigh, shows a thoughtful smile, then leans downward to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

There is elation as much as there is disappointment. Because the sincerity and the gentleness is already enough to leave you breathless, but fuck, the more time you spend with him the more you want, well, more.

Which is so, so selfish since he’s already done so much for you. Who are you to deserve any of this? Food and gifts are one thing, but his actual affections? Too much too soon for too little in return.

“See you Monday?” He prompts.

You step away and nod, hoping he can’t tell just how warm you feel right now. “Monday.”

After watching him gallop down the stairs, you shut your door and move to your window to then watch him pull out from the lot. The glass is cool against your forehead, and for a moment, you wonder if you’ve spiked another fever, but before you can dwell on that or any of your other mushy feelings, the door to your apartment is swung open once again. A gangly mess of long limbs and brown hair barrels inside and sends Remy into a frenzy, Sasha wasting no time in making herself at home on your couch.

“Oh my god, I’ve been sitting in the parking lot for like an hour waiting for him to leave,” she laments dramatically. “I thought you were dead last night, you know. Couldn’t get ahold of you and then Reiner said he let you go home with Dr. Hottie, and you didn’t even have the thought to tell me? Ma’am—” She holds her phone up over her head, shaking it as she scolds you, “Location, location, location! Send it next time! He could’ve made you into a skinsuit!”

“You and Porco both have this weird fucking fixation with skinsuits—why?”

“This isn’t about us,” she says, quickly sitting up and twisting to look at you. She’s glaring, dark eyes narrowed, which doesn’t scare you until her mouth begins to curl upward into a truly menacing smile.

“Now—” She kicks one leg over the other and laces her fingers together on top. “Tell me everything.”

~

It’s not often that Miche is able to hang out with all of his friends at one time, in one place, but somehow against all odds, the stars have aligned, and he finds himself on one of the top stories of a driving range, slamming a golf club into one ball after another. 

Despite being shit at the game, Miche is having a great time. It’s a beautiful day out, he’s surrounded by laughter, and a little server keeps coming around with beers that he turns down but everyone else partakes in, and that’s okay. 

Nile keeps trying to flirt with the poor girl, either unaware or uncaring of the fact that she’s only humoring him for his wallet. Levi is cursing under his breath as he lines up his shot (if there’s one person worse at this than Miche, it’s him), and his frustration only grows when Erwin steps up behind him to guide his hands, whispering what's either sweet nothings or absolute filth into his fiance’s ear as he leads him into another terrible swing. 

“Okay, enough with that bullshit,” Levi rounds on him, prodding Erwin in the chest with a bony finger as the taller man grins. “You’re not helping one fucking bit, so quit rubbin’ up on me like you are.”

“But, I like rubbing up on you,” Erwin counters. 

Leaning up against the wall, Hange dry heaves loudly, and Miche laughs. His amusement is short-lived, however, when Levi turns to him and glares. 

“You aren’t allowed to laugh at anything right now, Zacharias. Not even a fuckin’ chuckle from you.” Miche raises his eyebrows, one corner of his mouth still pulled upward, but it finally falls the rest of the way when Levi mumbles, “Cradle robber,” just loud enough for everyone to hear, and like that, Miche isn’t having quite as much fun anymore.

“Levi, come on,” Erwin chides, but Miche can see that he’s fighting his own little grin which doesn't help in the slightest. 

So, he tries to deflect. 

"That seemed a little out of left field, but okay." 

Make Levi look like the bad guy here because he is, just airing out Miche's dirty laundry with no context and no warning whatsoever. It makes Miche believe the little fuck has been waiting to do it this whole time, just looking for an opening. Apparently, he deemed this the appropriate moment. 

Levi doesn't come back with anything immediately, doesn't even scoff. All he does is lift an eyebrow and smirk, ignoring the way Erwin keeps nudging him. 

Unfortunately, the damage has already been done, Nile and Hange both closing in around Miche wearing troublingly curious expressions. 

Fucking vultures. 

"I'm sorry, what?" Nile questions. 

Hange follows shortly after. "Am I hearing this correctly? What have I missed out on? What have you not told me?" 

Miche raises his hands, trying in vain to convince them that, "There's nothing to tell," knowing well it'll fall on deaf ears. "And, to be fair, I've only talked to Erwin about this thing that—that isn't even a thing—"

"Uh huh, sure." 

"And, he obviously told Levi because he's a traitor," Miche finishes, cutting his eyes at the man in question who shrugs his shoulders in a way that reads 'what did you expect?'.

"Okay, Erwin's loyalties don't matter right now, we all know he's a slimy motherfucker," Nile says with a wave of his hand, causing Erwin to raise a finger in defense, but he's cut off before he can get a word in. "What matters is that you have this thing and are holding out on details."

"There aren't any details!" Miche nearly shouts, shouldering past everyone so that he can step up to the little green mat and take his frustration out on an innocent golf ball. 

"Yeah, except for the one where you're dating a twenty year old," Levi says with a click of his tongue. 

"Okay, one—" Miche swivels on his heel, trying and failing to ignore the bug-eyed looks on Nile and Hange's faces, "—she's twenty-five, thank you, and two, we're not dating!" 

"Did she not spend the night a little while ago?" Levi questions knowingly, and oh, Miche could murder Erwin. 

He glares at his best friend, pointing at him and reminding, "I know where you fucking sleep." 

Large hands gripping Levi's shoulders, Erwin moves so that the smaller man is in front of him, and it makes Levi roll his eyes, though he does puff his chest out a little more. 

There's no use in avoiding the questions Miche knows his friends have—he may as well clarify before they make too many assumptions—and he isn't legitimately angry, just annoyed that there's apparently no sacredness in secrets anymore. 

Then again, he shouldn't feel the need to keep you as one. There's nothing wrong with what the two of you are doing. Miche buys you things here and there, and in return, you grace him with your presence. You're playful, a little bratty at times, but Miche genuinely enjoys it—the banter and the teasing and the fire that sometimes shines in your eyes. 

And, there shouldn't be anything shameful in that, but he can't help but feel awkward, guesses he probably will until he figures out exactly what your intentions are—what his intentions are. 

Similar to his first conversation about you with Erwin, Miche sighs through a shortened version of the story, though he does spend extra time in explaining just why you spent the night a couple weeks ago. 

"I just don't fucking understand why you'd pick a med student," Nile says, his upper lip curling in something like disgust. "I teach med students. They suck."

"No they—she doesn't suck—"

"Shame," Erwin mutters, tittering afterward when Levi grants him an approving, “Hah.”. 

Miche doesn't bother humoring it with any sort of response, continuing his attempt to defend you. "We were all there at one point. Don't you guys remember how hard it was?" 

"I mean, it came naturally to some of us," Nile claims haughtily. 

Hange cackles. "Oh, is that why you teach instead of practice real medicine?" 

"I—okay, fuck you," Nile snarls.

"Aw, give him a break, Hange," Erwin chuckles. "He's raising future generations so that we can all retire one day."

"Plus, we all know the reason he teaches labs is 'cause he has zero bedside manner and gets sick at the sight of a little blood," Levi adds with a condescending smile. 

Nile huffs, apparently not enjoying this kind of attention, so naturally, he turns it all back around on Miche. 

"Anyway," he grits, "I'm just warning you—not worth getting too caught up in this chick, man, believe me. The new batch I have this year are dull and whiny, and you deserve better."

Rolling his eyes, Miche comes close to snapping back at him because he's a grown fucking man and can make decisions for himself, but before he can, a horrifying thought crosses his mind: what if you're actually one of Nile's students? It’s a little incredible that it hasn’t ever occurred to him that it’s a possibility. How? How has he not thought of this?

Miche hasn't given your name or flashed any of the adorable selfies you've sent him, so there's no way to confirm just yet, but he does know—fuck, just thinking about it makes his stomach ache—he knows Nile works at the same university you attend. It really should've clicked the second you told him where you go to school. 

If it turns out that you do sit in Nile's lab once or twice a week, listening to him drone on about who knows what, the rat bastard will never let Miche live it down (and neither will anyone else for that matter).

Well, too late now, Miche thinks to himself. He's in it for the long haul.