#then again it is still 2 in the morning. k still need to sleep

[daydreams-after-dark]

Good things come in small packages Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

Pairing: Mini Han x fem reader

Synopsis: One year ago you purchased a ‘miniature companion’ named Hannie. He’s the size of a Ken doll but alive and horny. But something unexpected happens on your one year anniversary.

Word count: approx 7.4 k

A/n: SURPRISE!!! I know I said this was being released approx next Monday, but.... I wrote it quicker than I expected. I want to thank you for your patience with this installment. There was a point there where I almost didn't have it in me to write it. But your words of encouragement helped spur me on.

I hope that you enjoy part two of this fic. There's a lot of emotions, sickly sweet moments, and a surprise character features too.

CW below the cut

C/W: unprotected p in v sex, oral sex, rough sex, angst, brief themes of depression, fear of suicide (just a fleeting thought), size kink?

Previously:

"Hannie?" You whisper, lowering the lamp, letting it drop to the floor.

"Why is everything so small? Wait. Why am I naked? Noona, have you been playing with me in my sleep?" He looks up at you confused and worried. "Noona, why are you looking at me like that?"

His eyes land on his pajamas, torn to shreds next to him. He picks up the scrap of fabric that was his pajama top, and his eyes widen. "Why are my clothes so tiny?"

"Hannie," you take in the man before you, naked and taking up most of the bed. "You're big."

------------

Han just stares at you blankly. Then realization hits him, causing him to spring out of bed and look around the room frantically.

"Hannie?" You say again. "Hannie, look at me." You take a step closer to him and he finally looks at you. It's as though your gaze anchors him and he appears to calm down somewhat. His eyes soften and he looks at you like he's looking at you for the very first time, just as you are with him.

You already know he has an incredible physique. Broad shoulders, slim waist, toned muscles. But standing before you right now he’s breathtaking. But you don't love him for his body. You love him for his heart.

Standing fully naked in front of you, he seems less real than when he was small. How can this be happening? It's impossible. Right?

"Noona?" His eyes drop to where your gaze has fallen. Right on his cock, still semi hard from his morning wood. It's the most delicious thing you've ever seen. So much bigger than you expected too. You can't help but imagine all the things you want to do with it. You have imagined it plenty over the past year. How you want him to fill you up, or make you choke on it. How it tastes. How it feels in your mouth.

"Hey!" he covers himself with his hands. "I'm going through a crisis and you're staring at my dick!" He exasperates. He narrows his eyes. "Oh my God, Noona? You know what this means?" His eyes light up with excitement.

"I do, Han. Trust me, I know. But first we need to figure out what is going on. Why this has happened." You take another step towards him, closing the distance, and with shaking hands you reach out and touch his chest. You feel his heart pounding and it makes your heart beat faster too.

He's real.

"Do you think my wish has finally come true?" he whispers. "I wish it every night before I fall asleep. That I'd wake up and be human sized."

You look up to meet his gaze. His gorgeous big brown eyes. "I wish it every night too. It's just... this doesn’t make any sense.” You pause. “Wait. The manual. Maybe it says something in that?”

Without giving him any warning, you snap into action and disappear into your walk-in wardrobe, returning with a pair of sweatpants and an oversized tee.

"Here. Put these on. I can't be getting distracted." You say and hurry out of the bedroom.

----------

"I thought you said you'd studied the manual?" Han says suspiciously whilst chewing on the scrambled eggs and toast you quickly cooked for him. You were quite happy to forgo your breakfast so you could search for answers, but his stomach rumbled so loudly you couldn’t ignore it.

While he scoffs down his breakfast, and you're still in your pajamas, you pore over the instruction manual spread open on the dining table, looking for any information that might help.

"Well... I kind of only read about how to keep you alive. You know, like how often I needed to feed and water you." you reply casually. Inside, you wish you had read the rest of the information. Maybe you would have had a heads up about this and you could have prepared yourself?

"Do you think I'm going to be like this permanently? Like the first year was a test of your commitment or something? Maybe I could learn guitar? Or cook? Or-"

"Okay. I've got something." You interrupt. "It says here: At twelve months of ownership, your companion will transform into typical human size-"

Han's eyes light up excitedly. "Wait! So this means?"

You hold up your hand to hush him. "There's more." You say. "He will remain in this state for 48 hours, before returning to his original size."

“Oh.” Han’s fork clatters on his plate. You look up at him as his expression changes from excited and hopeful, to absolutely crestfallen and deflated.

"I'm so sorry, Hannie." you whisper. You know how badly he wants to be big. You watch as he swallows a lump in his throat, and without a word, he stands and walks into the kitchen to look out of the window above the sink.

————

Forty eight hours? So It's not permanent? What kind of fucking idiot is he to think he'd ever be able to be a human? He tries to fight back the tears as he looks out of the window.

It's a beautiful, sunny morning, and usually on a day like this he'd climb up onto the windowsill and watch the world. There's a little strip of shops across the street that he especially loves to watch. His favorite is the flower shop. Observing the customers going in and out buying flowers and bouquets for loved ones. They’re such pretty colors too, the flowers. He’d love to be able to buy flowers for you.

A lady about your age works there, and sometimes another man is there too. Han doesn’t see him there often, but knows he’s someone special the way the shop owner and him look at and hold each other. Maybe he travels for work? He's often wondered as he sits on the windowsill.

He's broken from his thoughts when he feels your arms wrap around his waist and you lean against his back. His eyes close softly, and his body relaxes as he savors the feeling of being embraced in this way for the first time.

"Hannie, I know we don't have long, but maybe if we see it as a gift?"

He turns in your arms to face you, and wraps his own arms around you. You feel so good like this. In his arms. Holding so much of you in one go. Feeling your entire body pressed against his. It's better than he ever imagined.

"You're right." He says finally. "We can't waste a minute of this precious time. There's so much I have to do to you." His dick twitches when he sees your cheeks flush. He knows you're not shy, but if you feel anything like he does right now, then you’d have to be trembling on the inside.

His hand slides up to hold your jaw tenderly as he brings his lips close to yours. Sure he's kissed you, parts of your lips - both sets even, and other parts of your skin. But your lips in their entirety? He feels so scared, so nervous. What if he's a shit kisser?

"Stop thinking, Han Jisung." You say and connect your lips to his.

His lips fit yours perfectly and he melts into them with a moan. He kisses you slowly and carefully and a warmth spreads throughout his body. He hardens immediately when he feels your tongue slip into his mouth to find his. Your tongue, the one that’s licked his entire torso in one sweep, is currently inside his mouth. 

He allows his hands to wander lower to cup your ass. He loves your ass and often stares at it when you're doing housework in your tight little exercise shorts. Another moan escapes him when he pulls you even closer against his body. Touching so many parts of you all at once has him feeling overwhelmed in the best way possible. What will it be like when he’s inside you as well? He has to know.

He lowers his hands a little more to lift you up and you wrap your legs around his. Then he’s carrying you - actually carrying you - to your bedroom.

Your room is still filled with the warm sunlight, and Han is glad because he’ll be able to see absolutely everything. He lays you gently on the bed and kisses you deeply, then sits up to kneel between your parted legs.

“I think these need to come off.” He announces, flicking the waistband of your pajama shorts.

You smirk. “You do, huh?”

“Yes. We need to be naked.” He starts tugging off your clothes, then his own.

You look stunning beneath him, and you feel the same way about him. The sunlight hits his honey skin perfectly and you feel a surge of love for the man above you.

This is actually happening, is the thought going through both your heads.

Han gulps as he drinks you in with his eyes. Where to begin? He decides to start with your breasts. Holding them in his hands, massaging them. He loves the pretty noises you’re making as he kneads them. He leans over to take a nipple in his mouth, flicking the tiny pebbled nub that he normally has to stretch his mouth around. It goes straight to his dick and he can’t help but grind his cock against your core. This is too much already. He sits back up between your legs to try and regain his composure. He doesn’t want the first time he has intercourse to be over before it begins. To bide some time, he slowly runs his hands down your stomach and massages the tops of your thighs while his eyes lock onto your pussy. Home.

His favorite thing in the world is to eat you out, and he’s excited to taste you. Firstly, though, he is dying to explore you with his fingers. He drags his thumbs through your folds. “Wet for me as usual, Noona.” He states, glancing up to see your flushed cheeks. He chuckles to himself knowing how flustered he’s making you.

“Hannie…always soaked for you.” You say with a breathlessness to your voice. 

He rubs circles on your clit with his thumb whilst using his other hand to spread you wide. 

“I need your fingers inside me, Hannie.” you wiggle your hips to give him the hint.

“Like this?” He asks innocently as he slips two fingers into you. You moan in relief, making him smirk again.You’re so tight just around his fingers that he can’t imagine how you are going to fit his cock. He partially withdraws his fingers then pushes them back into your warm, wet, cunt. He repeats this a few times, your moans and ‘yes’s urging him to go a little harder, a little deeper. He remembers watching you finger fuck yourself and that there’s a spot inside you that when you stimulate it makes you come. He needs to try it. 

He angles his fingers a little differently and fucks you with his hand. The response is immediate. Your pussy begins to make those lewd, but arousing sounds, that he has heard when you’ve made yourself cum on your dildo. Your back arches off the bed and your thighs start to tremble. He knows the signs of you having an orgasm. He’s made you come so many times. But not like this. He leans over you to slide his tongue into your mouth, capturing the moans from your orgasm while his fingers work you through it until you’ve settled back to earth. Stunning. Erotic. Perfect. That’s what you are to him right now.

Now he can eat you out. Lick up all that arousal leaking from your delectable pussy. He nestles between your legs, his agonizingly hard cock squashed between his stomach and the mattress. He knows it’s leaking all over your quilt.

Firmly holding your thighs apart, he licks a long stripe from your vagina to clit. You taste perfect. He is careful not to go too hard or too rough. When he’s tiny he needs to use all his energy and strength to get you off, but right now even the most delicate of licks or suckles has you whimpering for him.

He spits on your clit and then sucks it off. Then moves lower to slip his tongue inside you. He has to hold you still as another orgasm starts to build for you. He loves making you feel this way.

He needs to make you come again, so he slips a finger into your pussy while he laps at your clit. He feels you come on his face, shaking, quivering, covering him in your juices. Yep. Still his favorite thing to do.

He removes himself from between your legs to hover over you to take you in an urgent kiss, smearing your arousal all over your lips. His dick throbs.

“Hannie,” you pull away from the kiss. “I really need you inside me. I need it so much it hurts.” You look up at him with desperate eyes.

“Me too, Noona.” He gulps. He’s so fucking scared and hopes you don’t notice.

“Are you nervous?” You reach up and stroke his cheek. 

Of course you noticed it. You always know how he feels. He nods. “Yeah. I am actually. I am a virgin you know?” He chuckles awkwardly, like you didn’t know he’d never actually fucked before.

You wrap your arms around the back of his neck and pull him close. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. Just let it slip in. Dicks usually find a way into a pussy.” You whisper in his ear.

He trusts you and grinds the length of his cock against your slipper pussy. It’s already beyond incredible feeling your soft skin against his obscenely hard cock. You both moan equally in pleasure and the frustration of needing more, so he shifts his hips to allow the tip of his cock to prod at you. 

“Yes!” You cry out against his ear. “Fuck…Hannie…need you. It’s so close…” 

All it takes is a slight adjustment of the angle of his hips and he feels the tip slip inside you. 

“Please…hurry.” You sob. “I love you so much, Hannie.”

“I love you too, Noona.” he says with a shaky breath, and then he’s inside you. All the way to the hilt. You both moan in relief. 

“You’re so tight.” he declares, his eyes rolling back into his head. He’s not going to last even a thrust. It’s already too good. But he begins to move anyway, eventually finding a slow, deep rhythm.

He was wrong. This is his most favorite thing to do. Be buried in your pussy, with your arms and legs wrapped around him as you moan his name over and over. Definitely his favorite.

“Faster…please… harder…oh Hannie…fuck.” You claw at his back trying to pull him even deeper. He obliges, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. He kneels between your legs again so he can see all of you. The sight is erotic. Seeing all of you at once, with your legs folded and pushed up high and wide. Your breasts bouncing with every thrust. And the expression on your face as you look down at where you’re connected almost makes him fill you right then and there.

“I’m coming, Hannie… I’m…don’t stop! Come with me. Come inside me!” You’re already trembling beneath him, and there’s no way in hell he’d be able to stop himself coming inside you even if he wanted to. He’s about to burst. Not just his cock, but his heart too. He loves you too much. He takes his thumb back to your clit and focuses on bringing you over the edge. He feels your walls squeeze tight around him like a vice, and it sends him over as well. With a few last shaky thrusts, he releases himself inside of you with a deep moan.

“Noona… Fuck…” he pants and collapses on top of you. “That was the best feeling in the whole world. I don’t know how anyone gets anything done when they could be doing that!” 

—-----------

The day passes far too quickly as you fill the rest of the day with lovemaking, food, drinks, and even more lovemaking. You both don't want to miss a single moment of each other. Night comes too quickly, and despite trying your best to stay awake, sleep eventually takes you both as you lay in his arms.

-----------

The sun streams through the window waking you from your sleep. You feel Han's arm laying heavy across your waist. It wasn't a dream. Your eyes snap open to find him fast asleep, mouth open, and still very much human size.

You watch him until he finally stirs and opens his eyes. "Am I still big? Are we still naked?" He asks sleepily.

You grin in response. "Yes. You're still big. And we’re still naked. " You lean down and kiss his cheek.

"So we can have more sex today?" he adds, rubbing his eyes.

"Anything you want, my love." You say and let your hand wander down to rest on his erect cock. Flicking the sheet off of him, you begin to kiss your way down his body, savoring every inch of his skin, ensuring you remember this moment forever. You pause when you reach his cock, admiring the way it looks. Fucking perfect. Mouthwatering. You waste no time taking him in your hand and bringing your tongue to the underside of his shaft. 

He releases a sharp breath. “Fuck, Noona. Please…are you gonna suck me off? Please suck my cock, Noona.” he begs, lifting his head and looking down at you. You give him a sly look and swirl your tongue around the tip, and he throws his head back down onto the pillow, surrendering to you and your plans.

You take your time teasing him, alternating between kitten licks to the tip, to long languid strokes of your tongue along the shaft. His breathless pants turn to whimpers, then finally a deep, relieving groan as you sink your mouth over him. You take as much of him into your throat as you possibly can, and even though your eyes start to water, you take him even deeper.

“Baby, Noona…This is…your mouth… How can you even breathe right now?” He can barely get the words out. “So good… ngh…s’good.” he squeezes his eyes closed trying his hardest not to thrust into you. His hands thread through your hair and rest on the back of your head. You hope he pushes you down further so you take absolutely everything, and when he does, you feel your cunt tighten and your arousal leaking between your legs. 

Your lips are pressed to his pelvis and he isn’t letting you go. You are finding it hard to breathe, but you don’t care. You want more. You feel him getting close when his cock hardens even more and he starts thrusting into your throat. Yes. This is what you need. 

Han gets noisier as he approaches his climax, then you feel it. The familiar taste of his hot cum hits the back of your throat. He cries out then stills, releasing his hands from your head and relaxing into the bed.

As usual, you swallow every last drop. There is so much more compared to normal, the fluid coating the back of your mouth, then you make your way up to kiss his lips. 

Han grins at you with hooded eyes. “Fuck, Noona! That was so fucking goog.”

“You don’t know how many times I’ve pictured doing that for you, Hannie.” You smile and curl up to his side.

“Noona?” he says, stroking your arm.

“Mmm. Yes my love?” you hum.

“Do you think…after we fuck again, we can go out? There’s something I want to do.”

You turn your head to gaze at him. “Of course. Anything you want, my love.” you say again, but this time with a curious tone.

-----------

"Are you sure I don’t look weird?" Han isn't convinced that the sweatpants and tee you have given him are unisex.

"You're fine, I promise. Just trust me?" You reply, locking your front door.  You take his hand in yours and begin to up your front path. As you reach the sidewalk, he begins to have second thoughts. Sure he's been out of the house with you before. In your handbag, hidden away. Safe. Unseen. Maybe this isn't a good idea after all, he thinks to himself. Maybe he shouldn't have such lofty ideas? But he's not going to have another opportunity to do this. So he has to be brave.

“”What would you like to do, Hannie?” 

“There’s something I’ve thought about doing for a while now. Buy you flowers.” He gestures to the flower shop across from your home. 

Your eyes light up and a smile washes over your features. “I’d absolutely love that!” You squeeze his hand and look up at him. “I love you Hannie.” You say and kiss him on the lips.

“Noona, y-you can’t do that!” He stutters.

“Do what, sweetie?” You tease, and kiss him again. This time a little longer.

He pushes you away gently. “You’re getting me hard.” He whispers sternly and looks around to make sure no one can notice.

“Okay, Han. No public display of affection. Got it.” You pinch his chubby cheek.

The flower shop isn't very big, but it manages to accommodate so many flowers and bouquets that fill every corner and surface. Han takes in the floral scents, and the vibrancy of the colors, and smiles when his eyes land on what he's looking for.

"Can I help you with anything?" the shop owner asks cheerfully.

"Yes, can I please have the bouquet of purple tulips?" he says proudly.

The owner, who's name tag says 'Jules', takes the bouquet back to the counter to ring up the price. "That will be $60."

That's right. He has no money. He closes his eyes for a moment, berating himself. Of course he can't pay. He has no bank account. No identification. He's not a citizen of... anywhere really. He's an alien.

"That's okay, I've got it. He forgot his wallet today." You step in from out of nowhere and take care of paying for the flowers.

Ashamed by his inadequacy, Han steps away from the counter, and busies himself by looking at the corner with some potted houseplants. He quite likes the houseplants you own, often sitting underneath the leaves pretending to be somewhere outdoors. He chuckles to himself at how silly that sounds when movement behind one of the pot plants catches his eye.

Intrigued, he crouches down and ever so slowly nudges one of the plants to the side. His eyes widen and he almost stumbles backward when he sees a little man, the size of a Ken doll, looking up at him.

The same man that he’s seen kissing and holding Jules the shop owner multiple times.

Han blinks, not believing what he is seeing, but when he opens his eyes the little man is gone. Where did he go? Did he imagine it? He starts shifting plant pots around, desperately trying to find him.

"Hannie. I'm done now." you call to him from the shop entrance.

----------

"Hannie, what's wrong?" You ask as you both step outside onto the sidewalk. "Is it about paying for these?" You hold up the tulips.

"No, Noona. It's not that." He turns to look back at the shop.

"Han? You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay? Are you feeling okay?" You press your hand to his forehead. Sweaty and warm. Is he getting sick?

"I'm fine. Just... the forty eight hours are coming to an end tonight." He frowns.

You drop your head. You have been trying your best not to think about it. Today was so perfect, spending time with Han like a proper couple. It felt so heartwarming watching him with his big, curious eyes as he interacted with his surroundings.

You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of the flowers. "What made you choose these?" you ask him curiously.

"Well," He starts, as you begin to walk back towards your home. "From what I read on the internet they are a symbol of perfect love." He smiles sheepishly. "It also said that they symbolize rebirth, as well as being known to help us let go of the past and embrace the future with renewed optimism and hope." he adds, proud to have remembered the details he'd read.

"I think that sounds perfect." You smile warmly and kiss him on the cheek.

---------------

Dinner is a quiet affair. The quietest it’s ever been. Usually at dinner time you share your day with each other, listening intently, offering advice or support, or whatever each of you needed that night. Tonight you’re both thinking about the same thing. That your time together like this is coming to an end. Neither of you want to talk about the elephant in the room, so you both stay silent. 

After a while you see Han set his knife and fork on his plate and stand up, walking around to your side of the table. You look up at him and he offers his hand out to you. Wordlessy, you take it and let him lead you to your bedroom.

He’s not gentle as he pushes you down onto the mattress and practically rips your clothes off before climbing on top of you and taking you in a rough, heated kiss. He shoves his tongue past your lips and you thread your fingers through his hair to pull him into an even deeper, even more feral kiss. He pulls away only to remove his own garments, then he forces your legs apart so he can line his cock up to your entrance. 

Without any preparation, or warning, he pushes the entire length of his cock into you in one go. You cry out at the intrusion, but part your legs further. You need him inside you, to consume you.

He’s careless with his thrusts, and his hands grope and squeeze, bruising your flesh. There’s a look of anger and resentment in his eyes. You know it’s not because of you, but at this whole situation. It feels so unfair to have a glimpse of how life could be, and know that it’s never going to be like this again. You love Hannie no matter what. But this feels so good too. Why? Why let you experience this, only to have torn away so quickly?

“Are you gonna remember me like this forever, Noona? How full I make you? How deep inside you I am? How hard I can fuck you?” He growls. “Tell me. Tell me you’ll never forget it. Cos I’m never going to forget how your pussy feels around me. Squeezing me tight. Tell me I’m your favorite. Tell me I feel better than anyone before me.” 

Han’s words are aggressive, and so is the way he’s fucking you. But his voice is full of heartbreak and angst. You want him to give you everything. His sadness, his anger, you want him to take it out on you. 

He thrusts his hips even harder against your body, and his cock slams into your cervix, causing you to cry out his name.

“Hannie!” You choke. He doesn’t slow down or go easy on you. You can barely breathe. 

“Say it… please…Tell me your mine.” he sobs, but he doesn’t slow down.

“I’m yours, Hannie…forever.” you whimper.

He leans down over you, caging you underneath him. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” He growls, his hot breath against your ear. “I wanna feel your pussy choke me one last time.”

It’s too much and you come hard around him, sobbing against his shoulder.

“That’s it…Yes…Fuck! I’m coming too!” He grunts as he thrusts his hips a few more times and empties himself inside you.

You stay like this for a while. Breathless and sweating. Eventually, he lifts his head and looks down on you. “Did I hurt you?” He asks with a concerned expression.

You shake your head. “It was passionate. I needed you to fuck me like that.” You sigh. He closes his eyes softly in relief, then withdraws his softened cock from you. 

Neither of you move to clean up, or even get a drink, or even say another word. You simply lay in the comfort of each other’s arms as though the world was about to end.

---------

You fall asleep first, but Han can't sleep. He doesn't want to sleep. So he watches you sleep instead. He cups your cheek. He needs to burn the image of this into his brain, for tomorrow his hand will barely be able to wrap around your pinky finger. These past forty eight hours were a dream come true, but he’s not sure how he’ll get over it either. 

-------------

You wake to find your bed empty. "Han?" You call out and search the bed, lifting the blankets. Sometimes he ends up tangled in them, but he isn't there.

You hop out of bed, slip on your robe and head out into the kitchen. You find him sitting on the windowsill above the sink. Small as ever. You feel a sadness in your chest and bite your lip as you approach him. "Hannie?" You say softly, leaning your arms on the counter next to the sink so your face is close to him.

"I'm okay Noona." he sighs, but doesn't turn to face you.

"You want me to fix you some breakfast before I go to work?" You ask hopefully, but he shakes his head.

The usual conversation that you have when you get ready for work is replaced with a heavy, awkward silence.

"You know, Hannie, you are perfect to me no matter what. Your personality, your heart - it’s bigger than that of any man in the world.” You say as you turn to leave the kitchen and head out the front door for work.

--------------

Han hasn’t left the windowsill in days. He hasn’t washed, he's barely eaten. The spark you love so much in him has dimmed, and you’re frightened that it won't come back. It's not like you can get him therapy. No one knows about him. No one can know about him.

Every day you leave for work not knowing what you'll find when you return home. What if he’s left? What if he's-" No you won't let yourself even go there.

Those forty eight hours of him being big was not worth it, and if you could take it back and go back to how things were before, you'd do it in a heartbeat. You just want your Hannie back.

--------------

Han knows you love him. But he can't help but feel depressed. He feels worse now than he has ever felt in his entire, albeit short, life. It's like him becoming big was some sick, cruel joke. Like it was to taunt him. To show him how good it could really be, how good it could really feel, to be a human, just to snatch it away from him.

It isn't just depression that's consuming him. It's an obsession with the flower shop and that little man he had seen that day.

For ten days now he’s stared at the shop hoping to catch a glimpse of...something... anything that might give him answers or closure. They know something. He can feel it.

Then finally it happens. Han hurries to a kneeling position, face pressed against the glass to catch a better look.

The man is back. As a human sized man. Han guesses he's seen this man maybe four times over as many months. He stands in the doorway waving to a customer before going back into the shop. It definitely looks like the little guy he saw standing by the pot plant.

You probably imagined it. You were probably over excited from the sex with Noona. Can sex make you hallucinate? Han isn't sure of anything anymore. Except that the miniature man was either imaginary, or, he has the answers Han's looking for.

-------------------

You leave work early and pick up a cheesecake. Han hasn’t eaten in days and you hope his favorite dessert might perk him up a little bit, even if it’s just a sugar rush.

You open your front door kicking your shoes off, and make your way upstairs to your main living area. The house is eerily quiet, even with a depressed Han it's too quiet. Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannie?” You call out. No answer. You place the cheesecake box on the counter. He’s not on his windowsill. Maybe he’s asleep somewhere? You check your bedroom next. He isn’t there either. You search every room, calling out his name.

Nothing.

He’s gone. He’s actually gone! Why? Why would he leave? Where would he go? What if he’s hurt? What if he’s - you gulp. You start to panic and begin to check everywhere again. Maybe he fell into a drawer? Maybe he’s stuck somewhere?

Again, nothing.

He really was gone.

—-----------

Han has never ventured out of the house by himself before. Well this month has been full of firsts, he thinks. Why not climb down the stairs and sneak out of a slightly ajar window?

He jumps down from the window sill and tumbles into the garden, surprisingly unscathed. He is on a mission and nothing is going to stop him.

Determination takes over any fear of being eaten by the neighbors cat, or being runover by a car, as he carefully treks across the road to the flower shop.

He hasn't even planned what he’s going to say. What if he's mistaken and the owner faints? What if she kills him? Or kidnaps him? Tortures him? No. He shakes his head. The lady was really nice the other day. People love to go to her shop. It'll be fine.

By the time Han reaches the threshold he is hot, sweaty and very thirsty. He looks up to looming doorway and swallows hard. Here goes nothing.

He slips inside, carefully seeking the cover of a nearby flower pot. The shop looks gigantic compared to last time he was there.

He notices something that he missed the last time. That the entire shop is set up suspiciously accessible for him. Like it was made for someone his size. Strings from buntings and signs dangle in such a way that Han would be able to reach just about any shelf he wished. Some shelves look to have mini rope ladders, and there seems to be plenty of places to hide and watch customers, or your Noona.

He quickly climbs up one of the rope ladders where he can get a better view of the sales counter. Jules is there finishing serving a customer. But where is the man?

Han doesn’t have to wait for long. The man emerges from a back storeroom with a gift bag for the customer.

“Oh Minho! You’re back in town!” The customer exclaims in a high pitch voice. “How was your work trip?” She gives this Minho a kiss on the cheek.

“Adventurous as usual.” He winks at her.

“Well it’s good to see you.” She takes her flowers and gift bag, smiling as she leaves the shop.

“Take care Mrs Maple!” Minho waves after her then turns to Jules. “Finally, I’ve got you alone, kitten.” He smirks and closes the gap between them. “Maybe we could close up for lunch? Head back into the storeroom?” He kisses her neck.

“You’re always so horny, Minho.” She teases. “Don’t think I don’t know you masturbate behind the flower pot while I work.”

Wait! What? Han’s eyes almost pop out of his head and he stumbles knocking an ornamental garden gnome off the shelf.

Jules and Minho’s eyes land on the smashed gnome. Then they lift their gaze, eyes landing straight on Han.

Fuck! He freezes to the spot.

The pair look confused and make their way over to where Han is standing pretending to be gnome himself, and crouch down so they are eye level with him.

“It’s the customer from the other day.” Jules remarks. “He didn’t have any money.” She adds.

Han crosses his arm and pouts.

“He’s the one I told you about. The one that saw me on the shelf.” Minho adds.

“Excuse me?” Han interrupts. “I was hoping you could help me. You see, I live across the street with my Noona. She was the woman I was with when I came in the other day. And…anyway… I sit in the window sill and watch the flower shop. Not in a creepy way.” He is sure to add. “And I’ve seen him…Minho, or whatever your name is,” he points to the man “a few times… Then when I came in, he… he was small.”

“And you were big.” Minhos’s eyes glisten and he rubs his chin deviously. “And now you’re small!”

“Exactly! And I need to know… are you one of those miniature companions like me? And if so, why do you keep getting big? And… and is it the same for all of us? Is it different depending on the batch? Do some of us get big and others don’t?” Han’s out of breath by the time he’s finished.

“What’s your name?” Jules asks kindly.

“Han.” He replies and plops down, crossing his legs.

“Han?” She repeats thoughtfully.

“Do you recognise the name, babe?” Minho enquires.

Jules nods. “Yes. I believe he was also part of the range I purchased you from. The Skz range. I don’t think he was ready yet. How long have you been with your owner?”

“Just on a year.” He replies.

Jules and Minho exchange looks, then turn back to Han.

“Well, Han, buddy,” he says. “I think we might be able to answer your questions.”

—-----------

Eventually, after tearing your house apart in the hopes to find Han and failing, you flop yourself on your couch feeling empty and numb. You don’t even notice that your doorbell is ringing, but then a loud knock on the door makes you almost jump out of your skin.

“Yeah okay, I’m coming!” You call out as you head downstairs. With a sigh, you open the front door to find the woman who owns the flower shop across the street, and a man who you’ve seen a few times around the place, standing there. The woman holds a basket in her hands, and the man holds an amused look on his face.

Great. You’re not in the mood for interaction.

The woman’s eyes widen when she sees your tear streaked face.

“Uh, sorry to bother you. I’m Jules. From the flower shop across the street.” She smiles awkwardly. “And this is my, um, partner, Minho.” She gestures to the man next to her.

You continue to stand there, saying nothing.

Jules coughs, clearing her throat. “We’ve brought your Hannie home.” She declares.

“Noona!” Han’s head pops out of the basket.

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth. “Why do you have my Han?” You choke. Your eyes dart from Jules to Minho, confused and scared. Han is supposed to be a secret. You can’t have outsiders knowing about him.

“I went to them, Noona. They have something to tell you! Can’t you let us inside already?” He whines.

A whining Han is a good sign. You nod and usher them inside.

————-

You’re back on your couch, this time with Jules and Minho on the couch across from you, and your little Hannie on the cushion next to you. You’re relieved he’s back, but also so mad at his reckless behavior. He could’ve gotten himself killed. He and Minho are enjoying a piece of cheesecake, like this is some normal afternoon gathering of friends.

“So you have something to tell me?” You say looking to Jules.

“We do. You see, Han came to us because he saw my miniature companion in the flower shop the day you both came in.” She starts.

Your eyes widen. “You know about them? You’ve got one?”

Jules nods. “Yes. Minho here is my companion.”

“Hi.” He waves.

“He’s your companion?” You arch an eyebrow.

“Yes, he’s got his monthly grown up pants on at the moment, but most of the time he’s small like Han.” She nods her head towards Han.

You shake your head in disbelief. “One minute Han is doll sized, then suddenly out of nowhere he’s big.”

“She really didn’t read the manual, hey Han?” Minho chuckles.

“Then I find out there’s another tiny man running around across the street?” You continue, ignoring Minho’s remark.

“Hey, I’m far from tiny!” Minho turns to you with a deadly glare.

“Calm down sweetie.” Jules pats his thigh. “He’s not really cold and cynical.” She reassures you.

“He’s cocky isn’t he?” You say lightheartedly to Jules but your eyes are firmly on Minho. “You know you were able to read their traits on the website and select accordingly?” You say jokingly.

“That’s why she chose me. For my cock-iness.” Minho leans back into the couch.

“He was the only one who was cat friendly. I have three cats, you see.” Jules playfully punches Minho in the arm.

“Hah! You love my cock-y personality.”

“I do.” Jules admits and leans against him.

The pair are fascinating, but you need to know more. “What did you mean by monthly grown up pants?” You ask.

“Once a month I grow into the size of a human for two days.” Minho shares. “It’s a fault in the Skz manufacturing process.”

“You didn’t receive the recall email from the company?” Jules turns back to you surprised.

You shake your head.

“There was a form in the back of...the manual...that you could send in so you’d receive any important information. Like recalls and such.”

“Noona only read up to the part where it says I can ejaculate.” Han pipes up, his mouth full of food.

“Hannie! Don’t, you’re embarrassing me. Sorry, he hasn’t been socialized.” You say bashfully.

“I think these two will become best friends.” Jules laughs looking at the two men. “Han did say this whole human size situation came as a surprise to you both.”

“I feel so stupid. I didn’t read the whole manual.  I’m such an irresponsible companion owner.” 

“There was a recall on the Skz range because they were only supposed to grow big the once, not once every month. Purchasers were given the option to return the companion if they chose.”

“And she chose to keep me.” Minho adds.

“Would you have sent me back, Noona? If you’d known about the recall?” Han looks up at you with his boba eyes.

“Of course not. I love you. I just wish I’d known all this so we could have been prepared. Looked forward to it, even.”

“It’s okay, Noona. I think it has worked out for the best this way.” He looks at each of you. “I’ve finally got friends!” He says gleefully.

Jules and Minho leave shortly after, to have some alone time before his “grown up pants become too big”.

Han is exhausted from his adventure, and just wants to snuggle up on your chest and watch anime. Neither of you say much. There's no point in being angry at him for venturing out alone, and you're just happy to have him back in one piece.

Neither of you are really watching the anime either. Instead you're both smiling inwardly, imagining what life is going to look like from now on.

—————-

A little update on our y/n and Hannie:

Over the next year, Han and Minho have become inseparable, spending almost as much time with each other as they do with you and Jules.

You’ve introduced Han to your family. He was so nervous at first, but once he realized they approved of him, he was okay.

He learned to play guitar, and even commissioned a guitar maker to make a scaled down working model of an acoustic guitar so he can play whenever he feels like it.

------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little fic. I loved writing it, even though it took me so long to have the energy to put the ideas into words. Thank you so much for reading. Your support encourages me to keep writing.

If you enjoy the more plot driven, lovey dovey fics, I have a few others on my main blog @moonlightndaydreams and I think I will probably cross post this fic as a oneshot over there to keep all my longer Hannie fics together.

Sorsha x.

----------------

@kayleefriedchicken @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @katsukis1wife @jeonginsleftcheek @ihrtlino @ivydoesit23 @gnab-nahc @skzstan12345 @youcanstayyeah @binnieonabike @hanniemylovelyquokka @moasworld @binniesbabe @courtnort455 @yongbokkiesworld @felixleftchickennugget @bangchans-angel @heerinnie @meilix

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @itsseohannbin @weareapackofstrays @3rachasdomesticbanana @palindrome969 @xxkissesforchanniexx @fun-fanfics @rhonnie23 @jisunglyricist @strayywayy @armystay89 @igetcarriedawaywithyou @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @justforreaders @melochacco @scenuniverse @oddracha @galaxycatdrawz @jiminssluttyminx @dool-set-net @redstayrosie @mintymintmint251 @katsukis1wife

[potatobugz]

ahh lingering feeling of dread my old friend. i did not miss you

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 2 to Truth or Dare

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: After a game of Truth or Dare leaves you and your lieutenant breathless and yearning for more, will you both be able to leave things alone or will one of you not be able to hold out? And what happens when you meet again?

Word Count: 5 k

Part 3: READ HERE

So many questions are left on Lt. Riley’s tongue as he finishes another cigarette and leaves the group of officers behind in the rec to make his way back to his quarter, the spectre's touch of your full lips still causing the skin on his mouth to tingle from the sudden lack of all that delicious pressure. There is so much he wants to make clear, even more he wants to do, but where to begin? It’s all so confusing.

As he lays down in his empty bed staring up at the ceiling, struggling to relax his feverish limbs as it still feels like he has been struck by a live wire, he fails to keep his wandering mind focused on his breathing to ignore the gnawing emptiness that is filling his chest from the absence of your presence. That’s when the questions start to roll in.

Did you feel something too? Maybe it was all just an act? Does that even matter if it was?

“No,” Simon mutters to himself through the silence to stop his train of thought from running rampant. He’s allowing himself to get distracted worrying about the unknown and that is something that will only cause more problems, but he is in turmoil.

Unsuccessfully he tosses and turns in the darkness that fills the space, his thoughts drifting back to that feeling of heat from the proximity of your bodies, the residual pressure from your mouth plastered to his, the look of pure lust in your gaze, and the gnawing compulsion of his fingers to get at your curves. 

But this isn’t a lover’s island, there is a job to be done here and he has seniority. Maybe it is better to leave this alone where it stands; who knows what disaster could come from getting involved with another officer in such a capacity. And yet…

There is no stopping his mind from wandering ceaselessly back to those breathless moments where his lips fought yours for dominance with the mind-numbing electricity flowing between you, the attraction so strong it did not seem possible for you both to pull from it. 

He has a problem and it isn’t going away.

Across base, laying in the dark in your own bed, your heartbeat pounding heavily in your chest, an ache runs its course throughout your limbs. There is a need for something to ease this overwhelming desire to be craved in a desperate, debilitating way, though you really don’t want to admit it. No, you don’t need something…you need someone. You need him.

You hadn’t been ready to admit it then, but there was a spark between you that is no longer possible to ignore now that you are alone, but you don’t know how to handle things any other way than to just ignore and move on; maybe the desire to have him again will die away if you just let it be. Even as the thought enters your mind you know it’s pure bullshit. There is no denying that things became complicated the second your lips met, that it was like igniting gasoline with a blowtorch. What was once mere infatuation that you could handle, has now grown into an untamed beast inside that leaves you feeling delirious and out of control. 

Rolling onto your side, you convince yourself to leave all these questions alone and focus on something else, anything to get your mind off of what you would be doing with the lieutenant at this moment if you both had not been interrupted. As you close your eyes to force sleep to come, visions of a bare and glistening officer thrusting between your legs fills your subconscious and you hope the morning comes soon enough because sleep is going to be short tonight.

Luckily, life around base rarely stands still long enough for anything other than work to get tended to. Any hopes of exploring that tension and ecstasy has to be put on the back burner as life in the taskforce resumes its usual chaos. Daily operations keep your schedule packed completely full all week so that certain thoughts get pushed to the back of your mind. And yet, during those slower moments of the day, they come creeping back up just like they never left. 

“ ‘ello?” Soap says as he waves his hand in front of your blank face. “Ye in there, lass?”

Your fork hangs limply from your hand, teetering over your plate lunch and threatening to fall with a clatter as you realize that you drifted off again. This is the third time this week that you have gotten so lost in thought trying to recall that feeling of the lieutenant’s lips that it’s becoming apparent to your fellow sergeant that something is off. Blinking a few times, you shake your head to clear your mind.

“What?” you shoot back at him as you stab the food and push it around the plate, pretending to eat even though you aren’t hungry.

“I’ve been talkin’ for a good five minutes and ye ain’t heard a word,” he says with a hint of agitation. His steady glare gives you the once over as he tries to read your face. “Where ye at these last few days, hmm?” 

You mask your face behind your customary smile. “Maybe I’m just trying to imagine a more engaging conversation than the one I’m currently in,” you pick, but Johnny isn’t letting this drop.

His eyes are still on you, scrutinizing your body language even as you stare down into your food to avoid his gaze. From the corner of your eye you can see the gears turning in that mind of his as if he is trying to put things together. You let it go on a few more seconds before you speak up.

“You got a problem or something?”

���It’s just strange,” he chuckles and you raise an eyebrow as you tilt your head to the side. “It’s just…I was speakin’ to Gaz yesterday and he mentioned that the lieutenant seems…distracted…as well lately. Same vacant look ye got goin’ on. Ye wouldn’t happen ta know why, would ye?”

Your heart leaps with a strong thud in your chest. Just what the hell is he implying? You had been certain that Johnny knew nothing, but now you aren’t so sure. Maybe you aren’t being as convincing as you think. “Why the fuck would I know that?” you play it off as you swallow down the lump in your throat. “Do I just know everything that goes on with everyone around here? I’ve got enough on my mind then to worry about the rest of you lot.”

Johnny leans in a bit closer over his plate and lowers his voice as he says the next part, making your blood run cold. “Must be a coincidence then, that both a ye just happen ta be actin’ different at the same time, ay? Ye know, on account a tha other night.”

The heel of your boot immediately connects with his foot only hard enough to make him yelp and pop back upright in surprise. You always forget that Johnny is smarter than he lets on and it’s clear he has been paying attention. Too bad you will never give him the satisfaction of admitting anything. With a laugh he sits back in his seat as you stare him down before rolling your eyes. 

“Why are you so worried about the lieutenant? Seems like someone’s a bit too obsessed and that can be a problem. You should probably talk to someone about that.”

He shakes his head. “Whatever ye say, lass,” he says, punctuating it with another chuckle as he tucks back into his lunch. “Whatever ye say.”

Firearms and ammunition is on the schedule for the rest of your day. It is your job to take inventory of all the munitions you’ll need for tomorrow’s end of week training. At least the repetitious task will keep you busy enough that hopefully you won’t be thinking about a certain lieutenant and what he could be up to right now.

At least that is the plan that you start with, but just as every other day this week soon that hulking officer begins to creep his way into your mind. Has Johnny been lying about how distracted the lieutenant seems lately? Could it be about what happened the other night or could it be something that has nothing to do with you? Little by little, it chips away at your calm until that is all you can focus on, even as you try and get through counting and gathering all the materials you’ll be needing for tomorrow. 

There is no way for you to know, but at that exact moment there is someone coming your way with a burning question that needs answering. 

All week Lt. Riley has gone about his days as usual, except try as he might to focus only on the tasks given to him, all he can do is mull over the same question in his mind: did you feel something in the kiss the way he did? It is eating him alive to know the answer and no matter where he is, who is speaking with, or what he is doing, the question is there to make him restless.

Until finally he has had enough. Just as the question overwhelms his mind again he throws down the work on his desk, shoves his chair back to get out, and leaves his office in a flurry. He doesn’t know where he’s going, but as he walks he passes by Captain Price’s office, the one person that would know where you are stationed today. Quickly he steps inside the doorway to ask. 

Price checks his computer screen that has all that information already pulled up. “She has firearm trainin’ tomorrow with the newer recruits, so she will be takin’ inventory in munitions today,” the captain relays the information, curious as to why his lieutenant seems tense and sounds a little out of breath. 

Before the captain can ask any more probing questions or mention to his officer that he will need to speak with him in a bit, the lieutenant heads off in a rush towards the munitions depot. No matter, the captain will let him conduct his business with you and send a messenger in a bit to bring him back.    

Lt. Riley crosses the base with nothing else on his mind but to get to you and when he does he finds you are completely lost in your work, none the wiser that you aren’t alone anymore until it’s too late. You don’t hear that signature click that means the main door is opening, nor the careful, but heavily booted footsteps padding across the floor in your direction. Just a few feet from you he stops and stares silently, waiting to see if you notice his presence. 

It doesn’t take long for you to feel a pair of eyes on you and looking up you come face to face with the person that was just on your mind. You can’t stop the way you hold your breath the moment your eyes connect as every involuntary process in your body gets interrupted by his sudden appearance. Desperately you try to regain composure and shake off that initial surprise; there is no need to make this awkward, it will only make things worse for yourself in the long run. 

Clearing your throat, you shoot him a smile. “Sir,” you greet him with a nod and a slight tremor in your voice that you quickly swallow back down. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be here. Did you need something?”

The adrenaline makes your limbs tingle and instead of just standing there awkwardly as you wait for him to respond, you put your hands back to the task before you hoping to cause your nervousness to settle. If you have to stand looking into his face in the stillness of the room for much longer, you might combust and the risk of looking like a fool is enough to make you act out being too busy to give him your full attention. 

Standing this close with the lingering feelings from the reaction that happened the last time you were together, the lieutenant is overwhelmed and it makes him pause. That same magnetism that he had felt that night is already pulling him to you, until his composure falls apart faster than he can calm it. Still, there is a question on the tip of his tongue that he is choking to ask; it’s the whole reason he’s here and he’s not leaving without an answer no matter what.

“I need ya to stop and look at me,” he says as he steps in towards you. You discreetly take a deep breath as you set your things down to turn your face back to look up at him. 

He’s already scrutinizing your body language, focusing on any sign that might give him an idea of where your thoughts are at this moment. Those brown eyes catch how tense your shoulders are through your t-shirt, how your pupils seem dilated as you meet his gaze, and finally the way your hands tremble as they hang at your sides.  

“I want ya to tell me the truth, yeah?” he says with a nod.

You stare back at him, big doe-eyes sparkling in the overhead lights as your pulse runs fiery hot through your limbs with the growing anxiety from wondering what the hell is going on. “Yes, sir?”

The mask covering his face clings a little too tightly and the clothing on his chest traps in the heat rising in his body, making his skin clammy as he struggles to vocalize that loaded question he’s had swirling in his mind for days. Lt. Riley clears his throat; he thought he’d come up with something better than this, but thinking clearly has long gone now. All he can do is just spit it out. 

“Mactavish’s stupid fuckin’ dare, ya remember it? I keep thinkin’ ‘bout it and I need ya to tell me somethin’: was it all an act, the way we kissed?”

Fuck, how are you supposed to answer this?

There is warmth blossoming in your cheeks as the thumping grows stronger in your chest. His question is simple enough, yet there isn’t a simple way for you to answer. Tell the truth? Could you actually go through with something that risky? For all you know he could be asking just to tell you that the kiss is to mean nothing because it will never happen again, that he wants you to let it all go to clear the air of any misconceptions. You pray that that is not what he’s about to say, but as you silently think about how to answer, he pushes for you to stop avoiding the question.

“I need ya to answer me,” he says firmly, eyes never leaving yours. “Were ya pretendin’ or did ya not want it to fuckin’ end?” 

A sharp inhale of air does nothing in helping to calm your nerves; you just have to get on with it. “I-it…wasn’t an act,” you say. 

The lieutenant has his answer, that’s what he wanted, right? Just to hear you say that the spark ignited between you in those few ecstasy-fueled minutes were genuine; that is it, isn’t it? His curiosity is sated and he should be able to move on, but he can’t. With your confession comes something more, something that he can’t let go of, and that is now that he knows it was real he wants it again. It consumes him to the point that he cannot move away and instead steps in closer as he grabs your biceps, forcing you to move backwards until you find yourself against the wall directly behind you.

“Sir?” you ask to get his attention as he continues to stand there staring intensely into your face without so much as a sound. You hadn’t felt this overwhelmed by his presence since the night you two kissed, but now it is back to cloud your mind and set your pulse pounding through your limbs. 

Your furrow-browed stare wavers as you clear your throat and repeat your question again. “Sir?”

Consequences are an inconceivable concept right now; the only thing playing in his mind are how fucking soft your lips look and how he desperately wants to get lost in them again. The sensations of reliving that experience from that night in the rec consumes every molecule in his body until there is nothing left inside him except for you. 

He needs it, he needs it now, and as that deep, longing ache settles itself in his chest to cause his heart to pound so hard that he can hear the beat in his ears, he throws sensibility away as he moves to grab your hips firmly in his gloved hands. 

“We really shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says, his body pressing against yours as he draws you in. “Ya know it’s trouble.”

His actions don’t match his words and the contradiction causes your mind to falter on what you should do. Did he want this to end or not? Does he even really know?  

“Do you want to stop, sir?” you ask timidly as your body begins to vibrate with the sudden, intense pleasure of his hands as they are back on you again. “You know we can just forget it; it’s really fine.”

One of his hands leaves the curve of your hip and travels upwards so that those long, covered fingers can string themselves through the strands of hair at the back of your head. “Who said I wanted ta forget, hmm?” he admits with his eyes firmly on your lips, watching as they part slightly so you can take quick, short breaths in and out. “Do ya think I wasn’t there, that I didn’t feel what was happenin’ between us that night? Ya think I could just forget all that? Do ya think I want to?”

His gloved thumb wraps around your face so that he can brush it over your bottom lip, letting the electricity pass through the fabric from his fingertips into your mouth. You gasp from the ache his touch leaves behind and he exhales heavily at your reaction. “Do ya know the fuckin’ power ya have over me after that? Shit, I’m riskin’ a lot just ta be here like this with ya again, knowing what could happen when we’re alone. All because ‘a one fuckin’ kiss.”

You swear if he doesn’t do something soon you are going to pass out; your mind is spinning in circles as the warm tension gathering between your bodies becomes unbearable. Only a small swatch of fabric covering his face keeps you both apart and yet you can still sense the heated air from his mouth as it sweeps across the delicate skin of your lips the closer he lowers his head.

He can’t do it, he can’t stop the way he craves you to the point of insanity right now. No, if he was going to stop it should have been long before now. As his hands cling to your body, there isn’t any chance that he is going to let you get away. He needs you, he has to have you, and it has to be right this fucking second to ease the painful longing that has kept him up all week.

Lt. Riley is gone; in his place is a depraved being that only yearns to feel that overwhelming passion that you gave him once again.

“I need more of the way it felt,” he groans adamantly. “I need ya, now.”

Before you can properly react to his heart-stopping statement, the lieutenant frantically wrenches his mask up and completely off his face, not wanting to be hindered at all from you anymore. All you catch is a crown of short blonde hair as he lets the cloth fall to the floor, closes his eyes, and leans in without another word to harshly smash his juicy lips together with yours in a reckless abandon that makes your knees buckle. 

Fucking hell it’s everything that he remembered and so much more; you taste like the best type of sin and he is ready to pay everything for it.

The force of his advance shoves your head backward into the wall as he takes your mouth with dizzying harshness, not hesitating to shove in his tongue to fill the cavity behind your lips to capacity. The tip of that wet muscle strokes across the roof of your mouth and the sensation causes your eyes to roll back into your head. If there was any doubt left in your mind, it has all dissipated now that his mouth is back on yours.

“Stop callin’ me sir. Say my name,” he forcefully demands in that husky, breathless tone, a yearning in his voice that makes your soul burn as he speaks those desperate words onto your skin. “Call me Simon.” 

You break from his mouth, your lips instantly desperate to form the word and say it aloud. “Simon,” you moan and it breathes new life into his name that he could never have predicted he needed.

Pining you tighter to the wall, he overtakes you rougher and rougher until the harshness of his movements abrades the skin of your mouth to make it swell and bruise. Relentlessly he siphones the breath from you to keep him going. That moist air fills his mouth so that he can speak. “Say it again,” he orders in a growl.   

It’s like honey as it rolls off your tongue and you can’t help but want to repeat it. “Mmm, Simon,” you whimper onto his mouth and goddamn the euphoria of having to swallow down the desperation in your voice suddenly awakens an insatiable ache that will need more to quench.

His gloves have to go, now, as his bare hands are burning to get their fill of your curves. Those thin pieces of fabric are hindering him from being able to connect with all that silky skin so that he can know what it feels like against his calloused palms. It is torment to be kept from all that ecstasy. Struggling to peel them off his fingers as he cannot pry his mouth away from yours at all, he finally frees those long, brawny digits and they waste no time in pawing wildly at your body. 

Greedy fingers recklessly claw and tear at your clothing, searching for an opening where he can penetrate to find enough balmy skin available to fill his hands until he cannot hold anymore. Deliriously and without looking he rips the pieces of your uniform up until he can get underneath them and let his fingertips get that first touch he has craved nonstop since the second he had pulled away from you that night. Those hungry lips continue to overwhelm your own as Simon is able to grab the hem and his hands have finally found their prize.

Laborious panting breaths fill up the space between you as the roughness of his hands grip into your hips and square them up against his own, pelvis’ grinding together in search of as much friction as they can find. Only a few layers of clothing keep your bodies apart, but that doesn’t stop Simon from rutting against you and you matching his movements. There is nothing else inside your head except the overwhelming euphoria of his touch along the lines of your body and the growing bulge in his pants that drills into you harder and harder the more it grows. 

No immediate danger is there to keep you both tame, no time limit looms over your heads that will force you to stop, and when two desperate things have nothing to lose, they simply let go. 

Every single one of his senses is overflowing with all of you: the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of your sweet breath in his mouth, the warmth of your skin brushing over his, the beat of your heart that he can feel through his fingertips, the sound of your quiet whimpers making his head spin. Goddammit you are eager, so willing to meet his advancements with everything you have; there is no question about what you want. And he cannot lie that he wants it too. You’ve both started down this path and there is no turning back; he knows it’s wrong, he knows he should stop, but he won’t.

You are in his veins, circling inside his mind, part of the very air he breathes; whatever risk comes with this could never outweigh the reward of getting to sate the hunger that has been driving him insane.

“Fuck it all,” he growls and suddenly his hands are under your arms and you are being hoisted up off the ground. 

Your body reacts from pure instinct by spreading your legs wide and wrapping them around his broad hips, securing yourself to him with a clench of your thighs together. Simon knocks a gasp out of you as he slams your back up against the wall to use it for leverage, his body crushing yours as he begins to grind up into you with that throbbing, engorged cock that is straining to break the zipper of his pants. 

Through your clothes he thrusts up into you with powerful strikes, hips rolling into yours over and over with desperation as he tries to get just a little bit more friction between your bodies. You use your thighs to help push yourself up off of him, bouncing over his crotch in response to mimic the way you’d fuck him. 

Simon knows he shouldn’t go any further, that he should slow things down because this isn’t the place, but he won’t. Everything is already so close, but still not close enough. He needs the real thing, not this cheap imitation. Even in the haze of this delirious union, there is only one thing he knows he has to do.

He has to get you both naked. 

Feverish fingers claw into the negative space between your bodies at the bottom of your shirt until Simon can find the hem. The cooler air outside of your clothing hits your skin with a tingle to make goosebumps appear as he pulls it up off your stomach and over the swell of your breasts.

“Lift up your arms,” he says quickly and your eyes flutter open so that you can follow the demand. 

In one swift motion the shirt is off and Simon doesn’t waste any time in ripping off his shirt as well. The feeling of skin to skin sends shivers of ecstasy down his spine as he presses against you. So soft, so warm, fucking hell is he in over his head. He leans in, bending forward so that he can kiss the tops of your breasts through your bra as he hands wander again between your bodies to the clasp on your pants.

Just as his fingers loop through the waistband, you hear the tail end of it. There is no mistaking it, it’s the signature sound of the door to the armory closing shut. You have no time to act as a private with a message from Captain Price enters in a hurry, not paying attention, and stumbles upon something he shouldn’t have under no fault of his own. 

“Lt. Riley, Price needs to see y–” the messenger says as he finally looks up, immediately stopping dead in his tracks as his cheeks flush bright red at coming face to face with the two of you half naked and twined together. 

The private is tripping over his words as an exasperated growl shuts him right up. “Outside; now,” Simon barks harshly through a heavy pant as he turns his head enough to lock eyes with the now terrified private. Quickly the young man turns tail and bolts for the door, stumbling over his feet to get out as fast as he physically can. Once the click from the door closing shut is heard, those brown eyes turn back to you.

Simon draws in a deep breath before his head falls forward to rest up against yours, foreheads pressed together as he just holds onto you for a moment. “Goddammit,” he curses under his breath in disappointment. 

Carefully he untangles his body from yours and sets you back down onto your feet. “Times up,” he repeats the phrase that ended your encounter the last time, though his tone is markedly more miserable this time, and you can’t help the way your stomach knots tightly. 

Simon grabs all your clothing back up off the ground, handing you your shirt back as he goes to put his own back on. You immediately redress and straighten your uniform as best you can with your unsteady hands. Everything gets tucked back in place once again as you wait for him to head out without a word, since this seems to be following a certain pattern now. 

But instead of simply walking away leaving you to agonize about if you will ever get a chance like this again, his arm reaches out and those long gloved fingers wrap around your belt buckle, gripping it tight in his hand so that he can drag you back against him. The other hand finds its way under your chin to force you to maintain eye contact with him; he needs you to hear him and make no mistake about what he is saying. 

“This isn’t over,” he murmurs as he guides your head forward to place one last, lingering kiss on your lips before he breaks away to situate his mask back down over his face. 

With that he turns and heads outside to the private patiently waiting to finish giving him the message from the captain. You let your eyes follow him the entire way out the door and only when he’s gone do you finally release the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

This isn’t over. The words repeat on a loop in your mind. Fuck, you sure hope so.

Now the question is: when?

Tagging: @spooky-pomegranate

[pure-smut]

feral.

featuring: Ryomen Sukuna x f!reader

contains: college!Sukuna, established relationship, birth control tampering, unprotected s*x, noncon/dubcon, breeding k*nk, size k*nk, cunnilingus, multiple rounds, creampies, stalking, toxic behaviour

word count: 2.4k

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

series: 1. infatuated | 2. obsessed | 3. addicted | 4. toxic | 5. feral

masterlist

a/n: okay this is the actual final part!! tysm for all the love y'all have given this series, sukuna is truly one of my muses he's just so fucked up lmaooo

“Good news,” you say, beaming. “No more condoms!”

Ryomen Sukuna’s head snaps up from where he was lazing on the couch, scrolling his phone.

“What?”

“No more condoms!” you repeat. “I switched to a different kind of pill, it won’t make me feel as bleh.”

Sukuna can only stare at you. You cross the living room and kneel beside him on the couch. He’s been so patient with you, so doting, you feel bad you changed up your birth control so suddenly last time. You reach across to run your fingers through his hair.

“I know you hated the condoms,” you say, an apologetic smile on your face.

“Stupid things,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning into your touch.

The two of you had only had sex once with a condom and it was obvious Sukuna was displeased. Since then, you’ve been sticking to hand and mouth activities, which is great but not enough forever.

“Well, I’m sorry,” you tell him. “We don’t need to use them anymore.”

You lean across to press a kiss against his lips.

“I missed you, ‘Kuna,” you tell him softly, your eyes glancing down pointedly. “All of you.”

A grin crawls across his face as he kisses you back.

“You still have me, baby,” he says. “I’m right here.”

Truthfully, Sukuna’s been slipping you sleeping pills every couple of nights, taking his fill of you without a condom. You wake up every so often a bit achy and sore but Sukuna’s careful to clean up after himself, never leaving a trace, so you don’t pay it much mind. Meanwhile, Sukuna’s happy to keep doting on you, knowing he’s spilling his seed unprotected in you without you even knowing.

He slipped you the morning after pill the first couple of times but the more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of getting you pregnant. Your needy little pussy so eager for his cum, fucking his load into you until it takes. The idea was intoxicating. So he stopped spiking your coffee with the morning after pill. All he needs to do now is wait.

Until you interrupt his plans again.

Sukuna waits until you’re out of the house before he starts rifling through the bathroom cabinets. He finds your new pills quickly, a few of them already popped. He regards them with disgust. Just another barrier between you.

He takes a picture of them, making a note of the name and brand. After some difficult searching and a trip to the dark web, Sukuna finds someone who’ll send out several identical boxes, except filled with sugar pills instead. With a grin, he orders them.

Sukuna has to spend a few days finishing inside you knowing you’re still protected, waiting for the fake pills to arrive. He knows you’d get suspicious if he refrained from sex – it’s Sukuna, after all – so he fucks you the way you want, the thought of the prize at the end keeping him going.

You return home one day to see Sukuna with your favourite flowers, the lights turned low, and a smile on his face. Your sweet boyfriend.

You remember what you thought of him before you got together – an arrogant fuckboy would be putting it lightly. What should have been a quick, albeit satisfying, one night stand has somehow turned into the most loving relationship you’ve ever had.

You wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him deep, your tongue flicking over his. He’s been in a semi-bad mood ever since you said you were switching pills but he seems to have gotten over it, returning to the gruff but loving guy you know.

“I love you, baby,” Sukuna mumbles into your mouth. “Get on the bed.”

He doesn’t give you time to respond before he carries you through to the bedroom himself. You’re used to this, being manhandled by Sukuna, so you only giggle as he throws you onto the bed. He reaches under your skirt to tug off your panties before crawling between your legs.

Sukuna inhales the scent of you. You smell so dark and sweet, it’s like you’re custom built to turn him on. Ever since the night he broke into your room to taste you as you slept, he hasn’t been able to stop tasting you. You often find yourself in the middle of tasks, cooking or studying, interrupted by Sukuna nudging his face between your legs to lap at you.

Sukuna wraps his arms around your thighs to pull you closer, his tongue parting your folds. You’re already glistening for him, so ready for him, and he loves that about you. Loves that he can take you whenever he wants, your pussy just waiting for him. You taste even better now that he knows you’ve been on the fake birth control pills for a week now, your scent somehow more powerful now he knows you’re unprotected, ready for his seed.

He groans into your pussy at the thought, his cock already throbbing. He licks a fat stripe along your lips before prodding at your entrance, lapping at your sweet honey. His nose nudges your clit, making you groan and card your fingers through his hair. You’d grind against him if you could, if his grip allowed you, but you’re no match for Sukuna’s strength. He always holds you in place, holds you exactly where he wants to.

Sukuna eats your pussy selfishly, the way he enjoys it rather than you – your pleasure being a nice bonus but not always necessary. His thick tongue slides in and out of your hole, gathering as much of your slick as possible, and you have to whine for him to please, please lick your clit. As usual, he brings you to the brink but doesn’t take you over unless you beg him.

Sukuna latches onto your clit, sucking it with just enough pressure to send you hurtling over the edge. His tongue swipes over the sensitive bud as he sucks and your whole body would buck if he wasn’t pinning you down so tightly. You moan and writhe as you come undone on his tongue, Sukuna licking up your juices as they run down his chin. He only pulls away when he’s painfully hard, needing to feel you around him before he bursts.

Sukuna quickly positions himself, slinging your ankles up over his shoulders as he aligns with your sopping cunt. He pushes himself in, feeling the fat head of his cock pop inside you before several more inches follow. You cry out his name, digging your nails into his forearm.

He normally goes slower than this, normally lets you adjust. But when you look up at him, Sukuna’s eyes are feral. Something instinctual has taken over him, has made him desperate to rut into you.

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper. “P-please… slower…”

A muscle bounces in his jaw but he obliges, the sound of your begging appeasing him. He doesn’t push any deeper but instead fucks you with shallow thrusts, only going halfway down his shaft.

It feels like your needy pussy is sucking him in, despite your pleading, and Sukuna has to fight to restrain himself. Your sweet, fertile womb is waiting for him and there’s nothing he wants more than to coat it with his cum.

But he does love you. He loves you so much. He doesn’t want to hurt you, not really, not when you’re whimpering so sweetly for him, your nails digging into him so desperately. So he rocks his hips, waiting for you to adjust, waiting for the wince on your face to turn to pleasure, before he sinks himself deeper.

“Ah, fuck… that’s it…” Sukuna half sighs, half grunts as he bottoms out. “Who’s pussy is this?”

“Y-yours, Sukuna,” you moan.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You, Sukuna!”

“Say it.”

“I belong to you. All of me belongs to you.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, your brain foggy with lust.

Sukuna’s pushing you to the brink again, his thick cock pistoning in and out of you as he rubs against your most sensitive spot. Sukuna feels you cream on his cock, helpless to it, your body not your own.

As you moan and mewl, Sukuna looks down at you and pictures you pregnant with his child. He imagines your swollen belly, how your heavy breasts will sway, how you’ll be with him forever.

His forever.

It’s enough to finish him. Sukuna groans long and low, sinking inside you as he spurts load after load into your womb. He fills you to the brim, his orgasm so powerful he falls onto his arms, muscles shaking.

He’s still inside you as he kisses you roughly, unlike the sweet, deep kisses he usually gives you after sex. You kiss him back but it’s only when you feel his hips rock again, his length still inside you that you realise he’s not done.

“’Kuna…?”

Sukuna ignores you as he pulls out long enough to flip you onto your stomach. He pushes your leg up, bending it at the knee to give him better access as he slides himself into you again.

You gasp as your tender pussy is violated, your hands splayed out as Sukuna pins your down with his body weight. He’s still fully hard, his girth hitting a new angle as he fucks his load back into you.

“S-Sukuna…” you whimper. “M’sore!”

“Quiet,” he commands you, voice rough. “I can feel how fucking wet you are so be a good little slut and let me finish.”

Sukuna’s harsh voice silences you as you bury your face into the pillow, hands fisting the bed sheets. He’s right – you’re tender but you’re still enjoying it, your pussy drooling around his cock. His cum is only making you sloppier, only making it easier for him to fuck you. So you stay quiet, softly whimpering into the pillow.

Sukuna continues fucking you, the feel of your plush walls still so tight around him and the lewd squelch of your sopping pussy making his second orgasm build quickly. He wants to fuck as much cum in you as he can, wants to fill your womb with it.

The fact that you’re unaware, still thinking you’re protected, is a delicious bonus. A thrill runs up his spine as he thinks about how you’re letting him fuck you, letting him cum inside you, when you never would if you knew.

If you only knew.

You lay there, legs nearly numb and body drained of any energy, as Sukuna continues to saw in and out of you. You feel one of his large hands scoop under your hip, lifting you slightly so he can go deeper. Sukuna handles you like you’re just a hole for him to fuck and you realise the thought makes you even wetter. Your walls are so sensitive, each stroke feels like fire through your body, half pleasure and half pain.

Your abused pussy clenches involuntarily around Sukuna's girth as he forces a orgasm from you, his hips snapping against your ass at a brutal pace.

Having you in this position reminds Sukuna of every night he’s fucked you while you’re asleep, your body limp and pliant, just waiting to be moved to his liking. Except this time he's fucked you into submission, his own personal little fucktoy.

“Fuck…” he mutters, his cock swelling. “You’re such a good girl for me. You’re so fucking good.”

He’s so close. Your pussy feels too warm and soft, too greedy for his cum for him to last any longer. Sukuna grips your hip hard enough to leave bruises, holding you in place as he fucks into you. His balls tighten at his approaching orgasm and you can hear his moans behind you, his cock nearly overly sensitive.

You’re almost relieved as you feel his hot cum spill inside you, Sukuna’s thrusts slowing as his cock throws thick ropes of his sticky seed in your womb. Your breathing is ragged, your face streaked with tears you didn’t realise you were crying.

Sukuna pulls out of you but stays where he is, breathing hard. After a moment, he presses a soft kiss to your shoulder.

“Sorry, baby,” he murmurs. “Couldn’t help myself. You just felt so good.”

Sukuna smooths his hand across your back, pressing more gentle kisses against your neck and shoulder. You let him, blinking away the last of the tears.

“I love you,” Sukuna says quietly.

You roll over to face him, wincing at the tender ache between your legs.

“I love you too,” you whisper.

Sukuna kisses you again, the way you remember, soft and deep. You want to ask what came over him but when he tells you he’s going to clean you up and run you a hot bath, you decide you don’t mind.

True to his word, Sukuna gently cleans you before leaving you to soak in the bath. He offers to stay with you but you insist you want to sit alone for a while, peppering him with reassuring kisses. And you do sit alone for a while, for a few minutes.

Quietly, you climb out of the bath and open the cabinet to find your birth control pills. You check you’ve taken the dummy pills Sukuna got you before putting them back in the cabinet. You sink silently to your knees and carefully lift one of the tiles on the bathroom floor. Sitting there are your real birth control pills.

You pop one free, swallowing it quickly before putting it back, replacing the tile without making a sound. You climb back into the bath slowly so you don’t splash before lying back again, relaxing.

You first discovered Sukuna’s sleeping pills when he was out collecting your favourite takeout some weeks ago. You figured that was the reason you were waking up some mornings with a familiar ache.

You discovered the tracking app on your phone the morning after Sukuna had installed it and had spotted him following at a distance behind you some days. So you gave him what he wanted – you made sure he saw you ignored other men and you never lied about your location.

You got your own set of morning after pills once you found the sleeping pills, knowing immediately what Sukuna was up to. He might think you’re unprotected, might fuck you like you are, but only you know that’s not true.

You close your eyes, enjoying the soak of the hot water. You know Sukuna does this because he loves you. Because he’s obsessed with you. You like that he's rough with you you, that he loves you so much he stalks you, that he wants to get you pregnant so he'll never lose you.

You love him just as much back. Your sweet, doting boyfriend who thinks he knows everything about you, who thinks he’s the one in control.

Your smirk to yourself.

If only he knew.

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Taglist: @sterzin @venus1224idkpleaze

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 4/4

König x F!Reader

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Word count: 10 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Another long chapter, but it's the last one, so... Enjoy! ^^

The next night, you dream awake.

You didn’t want to sleep with your back turned against him, and König didn’t even need to scoop you into his arms. You went there by yourself, completely willingly. You were disappointed when he didn’t even try anything; he just fell asleep like a baby after the hangover that left him weak.

Your hand is on his chest, right over his heart, as you listen to his soft snore. It’s like the whole world has shrunk into this bed, like your entire life suddenly consists of him. You can’t even hear the birds, the occasional gust of wind, or the pair of sandals outside the tent going to a nightly pee. The only thing you can hear or see or feel is him.

His heart under your palm. His chest against your cheek. The slow, steady rise and fall of it, the push and pull of it like a tide. His leg, draped across your hip, enclosing you under a heavy body that clings to you like he never wants to let you go.

And…

No. 

It’s too stupid.

“Love” is something bards sing about. There’s no time for it in the real world; lust brings people together, and they multiply like birds and beasts. They simply flock together for warmth, food and survival. Love is the property of dreams and songs, something that happened at the dawn of time but now only occurs in tales and plays. Surely, a mountain giant knows nothing about love… He just wants to stuff his cock inside you and alleviate the burn of his loins.

But his words still linger.

”I have fallen in love with you.”

You repeat them over and over again in your head, snuggling even closer to him, your heart flaring into a small bonfire when he squeezes you in return through sleep. The warmth spreads across your chest, it makes your toes tingle, and the tingles rise up to your head like ale, bringing tears to your eyes. 

Why does he have to be like this…?

There’s a sudden crack of thunder outside, and it makes you startle and clutch him tighter. It’s soon followed by a downpour of rain, the weight of it like a blanket spreading across the land. The drops beat the tent with so much noise you fear the whole abode will collapse from the force of them.

Another crackle sends you to grip him with fear; a violent rip of lightning makes you bury your head in his neck. König mostly wakes up to your distress rather than the sounds of thunder and hail, rumbling softly to the crown of your head and drawing you closer to him. You’ve always been afraid of thunder because nothing can compete with the fury of the Sky Father. You whimper as another roar shakes the bed, the very earth beneath you, and the rain begins to beat the tent in full.

“Don’t be afraid, little one,” König mutters, unafraid and clearly about to fall back to sleep again. “Only sky father making love to his woman...”

His explanation of the horrible display of the sky god’s power wipes your mind blank for a moment. He uses the same name of the god as you, but the viewpoint is thoroughly foreign. Is this the sound of lovemaking to him? 

“Safe here,” he squishes you against him until it’s difficult to breathe. Your heart is still beating in your chest as König falls asleep, the arms around you relaxing just enough to allow you to breathe again. 

In the morning, you try to correct him on his strange thoughts about Sky Father. You tell him your people believe he’s fighting his enemies when it thunders, not… making love to anyone.

“Fighting or fucking,” he only shrugs. “Same noise.”

You open your mouth to explain the difference between fucking and lovemaking next, then decide it’s no use.

The weather is warm and the land is lush after the abundant rain. König takes you to a small stream and you risk to take a dip, delighted and relieved to have the opportunity for a quick wash. When you threaten to gut him when he sleeps if he takes a peek, König only laughs. Probably thinks it’s an exciting threat. Then he sits on the bank to work on a small piece of wood while you have your cold bath. He’s been carving it for a few days and has refused to show it to you, no matter how “nosy” you’ve been. It’s an unfinished piece, yes, but it still feels silly that a grown man is so secretive about a chunk of wood. You only now begin to understand that perhaps the statue of the Great Mother is not stolen. It’s not bought, and he hasn’t had it made. He carved it himself.

Shocked, you forget to keep an eye on him while you scrub and rub yourself in the stream. You never thought of him as a sculptor or even a carpenter, but apparently, some soldiers spend their leisure time in other activities than fucking and drinking and gambling.

Your hands meet the leather string of the necklace as you wash your hair, and you remember your vow. It makes your heart sink: it’s a beautiful day, the first of summer, and you have to let go of the loveliest thing König has ever given to you. You peek a glance at him: he’s looking so peaceful while carving the small figurine, with that signature smile his that always reveals itself through his eyes, warm and jovial, like he’s just a hunter or a fisherman having a break from a day of toil.

You strip yourself from the necklace and release it with a sullen breath. The spirits accept it hungrily, pulling it underwater the instant you let it go. The current carries it far away downstream, and you find your chin trembling, and not from cold. You have given your moonblood to Mother many, many times, but this gift is infinitely more valuable. Still, the most important thing is that the man you prayed for is alive and whistling happily on that bank.

And you’re not an oathbreaker… But König is. 

When you rise from the water, he steals a glance. Actually, he stares at you like you’ve particularly asked him to never rip his eyes from you. 

You pay the adoring beast no mind and rise from the stream with the pride of a queen, only to have it all robbed from you as you notice there are flowers placed there where you left your clothes. The crazy giant has actually plucked flowers for you.

It’s an odd thing to do because in your land, only children pick flowers. Usually, people give flowers to the gods. Or, mainly just to the Great Mother... It’s because She appreciates them. 

And you also notice your old dress is not where you left it.

“Where is it?” 

He extends his hands to the sides and shrugs, faking innocence so poorly that you don’t know if you want to shove or kiss him. You’re desperately trying to cover your womanhood from his searing stare – an attempt that, of course, makes your tits press together even more cutely than before. König doesn’t even know where to look when there’s so much of your sweetness on display. 

This man is so stupid and childish and simply unbelievable; hiding your dress the instant you are vulnerable and in your thoughts. You look around you, then up, and notice that he’s thrown the dress over a pine branch far above your reach. Of course.

“You’re a bully,” you turn your accusing gaze to him, hands now slowly curling into fists by your side. You’re not even angry: you’re just feeling... hot, and frustrated, and embarrassed, having to stand here in bright daylight, dripping wet and about to have another tantrum while naked. You’re starting to suspect that he probably enjoys it when you get in a pet. Maybe it makes his cock hard: to watch you stomp your foot at him, especially if you do it without clothes.

“Bully?” His eyes smile at you like he’s the son of Sky Father himself.

“It’s someone who… who tortures people,” you blurt, a bit more dramatically than you initially meant to. He bursts into laughter and laughs for a long time, either because you just called him precisely what he is or because you called him a torturer for doing a silly prank.

“Ach… Well, you are pretty,” he says after surviving something that was veritably not meant as a joke. As if you being pretty is some kind of an excuse for doing this stupid, childish stunt...

His stare sweeps over you like you’re merely property, his eyes darting between your pouty face and the glistening sex between your legs now that you’ve blessedly moved your hands out of the way. Then he notices that something’s missing, that there is no necklace resting above your breasts anymore. He takes a step and raises a hand, and for the first time ever, you wouldn’t even dream of shying away from his touch. He brushes your bare neck with a silent question and brief hurt in his eyes.

Gods, he can’t think you got rid of it because you despised it, can he...?

“The river took it,” you explain quickly and with genuine regret. It’s a lie, but you can’t tell him the real reason it’s gone. You can’t confess that you had to sacrifice it for his safe return.

“I really liked it,” you whisper while looking him straight in the eyes, stomach heavy with both lies and the horrible, sweet truth. König recuperates surprisingly fast and nods slowly, the caress rising to your cheek to console you.

“Don’t worry. I can make you a new one,” he promises stoutly, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from bursting into tears right there in front of him. “With wolf claws, if you like?”

“I don’t know… Sounds dangerous.”

“Hah. I kill my first wolf when I was fifteen.”

Your heart is bursting inside your chest – the songs of the bards never tell about someone being so goofy that you want to hug them until they stop speaking silly things. 

“I’m sure you did,” your lips quiver with a whisper of a smile. König takes in every crumb of your affection like it’s a blessing from the Mother below: his shoulders draw back everytime he senses you are appreciative of him or admire his strength. He’s even more proud when he presents the small carving he’s been working on. 

You’re now absolutely, vehemently sure that he has made the statue of the Great Mother himself. Because what you’re looking at is very similar to that statue, only far more detailed. The breasts and hips on this figurine are more proportional, and you could almost swear that the statue he just gave you is trying to depict you. It has your hair and your face, or then he has tried to capture the slightly pouting face of some other ungrateful woman. But you can’t shake the thought that you may very well be looking into your own eyes.

“For you,” he says above you, and you swallow tears for gods know how many times today. He even winks at you, incredibly playful, like this statue is now a cute little secret only you two know about.

“It’s–I didn’t know you… Uh. Thank you,” you stutter like a fool. You can’t ask if it’s you – you can’t ask a simple question because to hear his unabashed, proud answer would mean that you won’t be able to hold yourself back from kissing him.

You are starting to feel like… an idol of worship, almost. 

He lavishes you with gifts and flowers, he feeds you grapes and wine, he brings you his bloodied loot and asks you to bless his sword. He honours your purity and respects your wishes not to be touched and pilfered.

What else are you if not a goddess? 

Even the Mother in his satchel doesn’t get such fevered attention. He even carved a new statue for you. Of you.

Your senses become eagle-sharp as you realize just how much your suspicions are proving true. You think about the way he is always at your tits, as if calling forth good luck and abundance when he squeezes them every day and night. It’s almost like a ritual. Or how he tries to dress you in fine clothes, not just to show you around, but to make you feel appreciated. The way he protects and shelters you and lets you – no, demands you to – ride his horse while he exhausts himself on the road. How the selecting of the necklace now seems like a test, to prove whether you are a true goddess who favors a gift of bone and blood and amber over the pathetic shiny trinkets of men. 

And the way he hasn’t touched other women all this time; no, because he doesn’t keep other goddesses...

Just you. 

Only you.

…

He knows your tongue so well that you don’t practically need the translator anymore. König sends him away after you whisper in his ear that you don’t like him.

It’s another lie because what you really don’t like is how bothered he looks when forced into the company of you two. You don’t like the deep sighs and the weary looks he gives both you and your supposed lover who always insists that you sit on his lap even if there are other people in the tent. You don’t want to make the poor man uncomfortable, so you come up with a reason for König to send him away. It's quite apparent that you could ask for the moon and stars, and he’d figure out a way to give them to you.

When you ask him why, for the love of all the gods, does he even want to keep a Roman slave, he says it amuses him. You always thought it was an odd thing to do because you’ve never seen König spend time with his soldiers. He never gambles with them, never eats with them, never hunts with them. By separating himself from them he keeps up an illusion of himself as a walking, fighting myth who has forced half the world to its knees, and whose quirks are to keep a Roman slave and, now, a foreign fairy in his tent.

You start to understand that it's because he doesn’t feel like he belongs.

He doesn’t even want to belong. He doesn't make an effort to be a Roman even if, legally, you suppose he’s a citizen or at least a free man. You wonder if it’s his only weakness: being so different from everybody else. 

You walk in and out of camp like a free woman with him. To the forest, to the stream, and one day, to the ocean, not too far from where you used to gather clams. If you walked the shoreline long enough, you would end up near your old village.

You spend your entire day there, collecting pink and white shells, giggling as König takes a dip in the shivering sea. He even throws the hood away before walking into the foaming waves. You have to hold your breath as he comes out because his face is the complete opposite of what you thought you would see. He has stern features and some prominent scars above his lip and crossing the bridge of his nose; there’s one above the left eye, and his nose has been broken at least two times. He looks mean and dangerous and suffering, it’s true, but you’re not scared at all. In fact, your embarrassingly wet while he furrows his brows and looks down at his feet, otherwise proud and happy in his skin but now suddenly concerned that you might not like what you see.

“Ugly?” He asks bluntly, with such distanced but sharp pain that your breath leaves you entirely. The vision of him might have frightened you on the first night, it’s true, but now, you only think he’s handsome. In a crude way, perhaps... But still handsome.

“No,” you shake your head slowly, never taking your eyes off him. König takes in air as if he has been granted a pardon from a horrible crime, and your heart hurts – is this the reason he has clung to that hood? To conceal some old scars and to appear more menacing to friends and enemies?

He’s stronger than ever as he walks to you, unclothed and smelling of seabreeze and salt, like he was just born from there, sired by the ocean and the wind. You ought to pray to Mother but you know it will do you no good. It’s a rotten joke to want a man who has massacred your people, the ones you used to call friend and neighbour and kin. You feel like you’re betraying the memory of your whole village by wanting to sleep with the enemy. The enemy who worships you; who looks at you like you’re a goddess when you lean back to watch the night sky come alive with indigo and stars. The enemy who teaches you their names in his own tongue...

He points you to the Head of the Serpent and the Smith’s Street, then to the Nail that holds the sky in place. You have your own names for the stars but you like it when he introduces them to you, clumsy and excited. When he shows you the long cock of the hero your people call Hunter, your cheeks heat up. You try to repeat the name in his tongue (whatever lewd, brash northern hero it may be), and it makes him happier than ever to hear you speak his words.

“König,” you ask him when he's shown you all the stars he knows. “Why do you fight…?”

He turns to look at you, perplexed, and you word the question differently.

“What do you want?”

“...What do I want?”

“Yes. In this life.”

His brows furrow as he starts to think, and your love for him only grows. Has no one ever asked him that before? Has he ever even given it a thought...? 

He grabs a handful of grass and rips it from the ground, absentmindedly and deep in thought. He fiddles with it for a while, then throws it away, looking somewhere to the distant, generous sea.

“I want…children,” he says. “I want a home.”

König turns to look at you, so stern that it forces you take support from the earth beneath you.

“Home. Richtig?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “A–a home.”

But it can’t be...

It can’t.

It’s simply too crazy that the brutal, callous giant has been searching for a home all along. That the man who cuts off heads and spits out the flesh of his enemies is simply someone who has lost his home and has yearned back ever since. It’s too wild a thought that the Titan wants to raise a family and have many children.

“Don’t you have a home somewhere in Rome…?” 

“It’s only a house.”

He fidgets with more grass, then turns back to you again with honest curiosity.

“Do you want children?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Fee. You would be a good mother,” he determines right then and there, saying it so casually that you have no choice but to believe it. You want to change the topic, and quickly, now tugging at the grass yourself because you're feeling shy.

“König… What is Fee?” 

“Fee is… They are small women? Live in trees. Or flowers. Or everywhere,” he gestures vaguely all around you.

“You mean fairies,” you whisper, and he shrugs. If you say so. But you know you're talking about the same thing: curious little earth spirits, lively and wild. 

Your heart is burning; it’s scorching until there’s nothing left but sweet molten gold. Usually, this kind of burning has stirred in your chest when some old crone has told a good story at the fire during the turn of the year. Usually, you’ve felt this kind of thrill when you’ve heard the piper play for the forest during springtime, lulling the devious spirits back to the trees so that they wouldn’t enter lambs and goats and make them sick. You’ve only felt so alive when you’ve walked at the beach during midsummer with a desperate aching between your legs because you’ve felt so alone and yet so, so alive.

“They said you were a Titan,” you whisper, another hushed question on this night of nights. You feel like you’re having a conversation of the ages, even if it’s clumsy and plain. The night sky is blooming with stars, the sea is whispering its secrets, and there are so many unsaid things between you two, finally washing up on the shore. König is ripping out more tall grass, but only because he’s searching for the right words.

“No. No titan. Just king,” he shakes his head as if sorry that he has to disappoint you. “I was the king’s son. Before Rome came…”

He’s suffered the same fate as you then, a long, long time ago. You wonder where his people are now or if they are even alive anymore, if he is the last giant standing, the last remaining man of his folk from the mountains. If the ruins of his proud house have already turned to dirt and dust and soil, if his father’s head was left to rot on a Roman spear, his riches and wealth taken back to Rome as spoils and exchanged for wine and whores and slaves.

You can only imagine the fury and despair when a tall boy’s future and dreams crumbled into dust, to blood and tears and screams, to a tale that no one ever told.

“You’d make a great king,” you say, meaning it with all your heart. His whole face lights up with a smile; the sorrow is still present in his eyes, and you know the depth of its roots now. But the Romans never managed to kill his will to live.

“If I was king… I would choose you for my queen,” he says softly, and you thank the wind for drying an escapee tear that rolls out. Fate is shaking your ribcage like a rattle; the wind steals your tears like they’re a long-withheld gift.

He tells you his tale under the safety of the vast starry sky. It's only bits and pieces, but you understand enough from his clumsy words.

He tells you how he was brought to Rome as a slave, sold to the pits and how he rose to manhood and fame there. He fought in the great arenas you’ve heard so many gruesome tales about; he fought until he could buy his freedom. He forgot his people, his revenge, that he was a king. Not knowing what else to do, he took up arms again and became the thing he hated the most: a Roman soldier. 

He tells you about a woman who can see things that have not yet happened. He asked this seer if there was anything else for him in this life but death; he would give any offering that was needed if only he could find more life instead. He had already given money and offerings to all the fertility goddesses of Rome, to no avail. He had carved a statue of Venus to attract love, but it didn’t work. So many times he had wanted to throw it in the sea. Until the woman who sees told him he would find what he was looking for in his next campaign. When he promised he’d come back to kill her if she lied, the old crone had only laughed at him. 

The next day, he was discharged from his old unit and separated from those who spoke the same language as him. Everyone was afraid of an uprising that would have a giant at its head, so he was offered money and whores, even a position in politics, and lastly, a place in an elite unit with a better wage. They told him the troops were about to leave for the harsh frontier: a new campaign to bring glory to Rome. He chose the latter option immediately.

He turns to look at you. Bloodless, thin-lipped, shivering you.

“She said you would be pretty. Like a fairy.”

You hear the distant rumbling of the sea, endlessly soft. You feel the wind suddenly passing through the field, filling the cloak of a northern king who came all this way just for you. Even the stars are waiting for your next move. 

“I…” you start, already breathless. “The necklace… König, I’m so sorry. I had to give it to Mother.”

“Mother?”

“To the gods. So that you wouldn’t die in battle.”

Realization dawns on his face, driving away all doubt and confusion. He’s just as pleased as the day he gave you all those gifts, if not even more so.

“You make sacrifice for me?”

“Yes,” you whisper. You can’t help it: a sob wrenches out of your chest as the first tears fall. “I’m sorry. I really liked it... I’m so sorry–”

König rises immediately, only to come to you and fall to a crouch. He draws you against his chest, your weeping face soon held right against his heart.

“Never say sorry,” he kisses your head, over and over again. “Never say sorry…”

The wind surrounds you both, soft and warm, as he rocks you back and forth. You hug him with all the strength a little fairy can muster, then raise your chin to look at him. You’re probably the most pathetic creature he has ever seen – you could swear there is no woman alive feeling as weak as you feel now. König cups your face gently, the look in his eyes that of a hunter who has finally caught up with his prey. Warm, merciful, loving.

“Fee… I can still taste you,” he says.

“I can still feel you,” you whisper back. A deer, felled. “But I don’t… I don’t like biting.”

“Biting…?” 

“Teeth.”

“Ja. I noticed.”

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters. You would let him bite you anywhere and everywhere now. You would actually kill for it if he only laid his mouth on you...

You laugh with leftover tears in your eyes, and your giant smiles back at you, so endearing that you feel like it’s the first day of the rest of your life.

“Do you like bath?”

…

You ease into the warm, almost too warm water with a sigh.

The slaves have had to toil the better half of the evening to heat such a large body of water, and you can’t even begin to imagine where König has gotten the pretty little clay bathtub. It’s the largest pottery you have ever seen; far too small for a giant like him but just enough for a fairy woman like you.

You wash yourself languidly, feeling like the queen of the whole wide earth. Someone has even poured some of the scented oils into the bath, and you could cry from happiness as the sweet scents envelop you. You wonder if the wife of any chieftain has ever experienced such luxury and warmth. 

König has the most pleased smile on his face when he sees how much you appreciate yet another gift of his. He pampers and spoils you so much that you threaten to turn into an overripe grape, too soft and sweet and juicy, unable to keep intact anymore. But there’s a price to be paid, apparently, as he watches you from across the tent, sitting in his chair and pulling back the tunic to reveal the the erection between his legs. It’s the biggest cock you've ever seen, and already standing tall and proud, like a soldier about to go to war.

Your lips part on their own; heat shoots between your legs so fast it knocks the breath out of you. He seems to love your attention and awe, because his cock gives a few pulls just from you staring at it. Pearl-white seed leaks out of the tip as he grabs it inside a strong fist and gives himself a few unhurried strokes. 

“König…?”

You’re breathless, but he’s not: he’s breathing heavily in that chair, powerful thighs spread wide, stroking the thick weapon between his legs while you feel like fainting in your bath.

“When will torture end?”

He's dark, dark and done with patience, and you don't know how to answer such a question. You don't even know where to look.

“Hm? You like to torture men?”

“No,” you whisper, cheeks hot and cunt ridiculously wet.

“Yes you do. A little bully, hmm?”

“König–”

“I’ll show what happens to bullies.”

He lets himself go and rises from the chair. Your mind is of no use to you now: all you can do is stare at that thing between his legs, pointing towards you like a road sign.

He walks to you, cock and gaze equally heavy, and gets rid of his tunic. Then he gestures for you to rise from the tub. You’ve spent enough time there in his opinion, and the water is indeed turning unpleasantly cool – but if you go to him now, you won’t be able to fight him. Not when you’re in such a pleased, lax, purring state. Perhaps that was the whole idea...

You rise slowly, then step out carefully, taking support from the edge of the tub and from his shoulder – and still almost collapse all over him as you try to remain on your feet. He holds you upwards while you try to avoid the murder weapon between his legs, but your giant is not as shameful as you: he grabs your butt and guides you flush against him. You meet his chest with a gasp, the length of him now trapped between you two.

“Wait, I’m—I’m still wet,” you try to peep, but it’s no use. He sweeps you off your feet, no doubt with the intention of carrying you to the bed. 

“I will lick you clean,” he looks at you like you’re already trapped, caught, and bled: such a weak little creature in his arms, trying to beg for mercy with its last dying breath. You cling to him as such, that’s for sure.

“Just... No biting. Please?” You whisper as he lays you on the bed.

“No biting,” he gives his valiant promise, accompanied with a confident flash of a smile.

Gods…

If he’d gotten rid of that stupid hood earlier, your legs would’ve been pudding. They would’ve been as far apart as the two villages east and west of here. That smile would have allowed him to infiltrate everything in between. Perhaps it’s a good thing he is not that clever… 

“Oh gods–” you gasp as he shifts down and lowers himself for worship. His breath hits you first, and the next thing you feel are his lips – still smiling – then the gods-forsaken beast gives you a kiss.

“Oh–”

There is a sudden silence following your moans, then you hear soldiers bursting into laughter outside your tent. They’re warming themselves by the campfire, no doubt, sharing stories about war and women, and now they’ve heard the first mewls of surrender from their hero’s tent, after weeks of quarrelling.

Your cheeks heat up as one of the soldiers utters a hurried sentence and mentions König’s name, after which the merry crew booms to laughter again.

Gods take the Romans and their stupid, lewd jokes...

You try to concentrate on the warmly lit burgundy ceiling as König carries on without paying any attention to what’s happening outside. They could march into the tent and try their best to rip him off your cunt, but you doubt if they would get him to move an inch. He's simply that drunk on your taste.

You wonder if his chin is already covered in your juices because his kisses are open-mouthed and hungry – he even tries to push his tongue inside you. The man has absolutely no shame when he's buried down there, groaning with approval as you roll your hips. You're rutting his face as shyly as you possibly can, and it makes him purr and rumble with bliss. The noise he makes is enough to make you sing too, so filthy that it earns you a whistle from outside.

Shit... They probably think he's fucking and hurting you with his cock – a scary prospect, yes, but you'll have to cross that bridge when you get there – and they couldn't be more wrong. If they only knew what their champion is doing to his slave, lapping and sucking his disobedient woman like a starved dog...

“You like mouth?”

It’s hungry, so dark, the way he asks if you like what he’s doing to you. It’s not the mad lust of a drunken man from a few nights ago; it’s sober, fierce greed with a clear purpose behind it. Your fingers find his hair and tug at it weakly, not to cheer him on, but to take support from something relatively stable. 

“Yes… Yes, just–"

“Gut,” he grins into your folds, coarse stubble scraping you deliciously raw. “I like this too. After I lick you enough, I will fuck you.”

Your fingers curl around his hair, giving him another involuntary tug.

Gods, make him stop talking... Just tie his tongue or something, make him shut up.

Please…

“I will bully you all night with cock. I know you will like. Hm?”

He prattles more nonsense in your cunt, and you can’t hear the men outside anymore. You can’t even see the lamps. You’re in a womb of pleasure, which is funny because there’s a grown man between your legs, dragging his tongue over your slit until you're shaking and crying on the bed. Yes, if this is a womb, you never want to leave...

And he’s not eloquent; you don’t even know what he is trying to do to you. He probably doesn’t know it himself. He’s not trying to fish for cues on what you like: he just does what he feels like doing, which is everything. He tries every single thing. He’s just happy to be down there, flicking and circling his tongue over your nub until you can’t take it anymore.

You're dangerously close, and rise halfway to push his head away because it’s just too much; it’s too much pleasure in one go. He gives you a husky laugh and fights your weak attempts to make him stop, the damned bastard. You’re too frail to resist him, and he knows too much already, repeating the torture until your hips buck up.

“Gut... Like that...?” He asks again, so eager to please that you have to stifle a sob.

“Yes... Yes, just like that,” you sigh while trying to stay in one piece.

“Guide me, little fairy,” he demands, excited like a young, hot recruit. Apparently it's no big deal for him to have his head tugged and shoved and dragged just for a woman's pleasure. It doesn't take away an ounce of his power to be your toy for a moment. Your sharp tongue has left you completely; it is you who is humbled as you guide him back to the right spot, jerking when he licks you just the way you wished.

It’s bad enough that you make a mess on his bed and moan like a paid woman, giving everyone in this camp a taste of what it sounds like when a giant bullies his fairy to the full. But can’t he keep his stupid, lovable mouth shut...

He’s making so much noise that you can both feel and hear him. His moans are hoarse, needy and deprived; they echo somewhere in your core, somewhere inside your most sensitive, aching place, just before he finds it, the right spot, and pushes his tongue inside you.

“Wait…” you gasp, convulsing on the bed now. What the hell does he think he’s—

“Wait—I’m…”

And then you cum, right into his mouth, with an arched back and quivering thighs, with such lewd sounds shooting out of your mouth that complete silence follows outside.

Whatever those soldiers had thought to happen here tonight, they clearly didn't expect to hear that… Nor the cries that follow, so nasty and wanton that König doesn't withdraw, not before you have clenched and cried your fill. He enjoys your peak to the last tremble, but you barely get to catch your breath before he leaves you. He doesn’t even give you a chance to caress his head as thanks for what he just did to you.

His mouth leaves you empty and cold as he rises, watching you like you're his best conquest. His cock is so hard it juts out, immovable like a rock and so intimidating that you stop breathing for a moment.

And he doesn't allow your breathless, shocked state go to waste: he grabs that horse cock and sets it on your flush, soaked lips, and pushes the head inside. More than just the head inside.

“Oh gods, oh fuck–”

Your legs are completely useless, falling to the side as he eases himself into you. He looks at you curiously, tilting his head when he hears you curse for the first time in his presence. More than just amused, he goes deeper still, delighted that he made you say a naughty word with his cock.

You can feel the stretch; you can feel every ridge, every vein, all his thickness filling you with purpose. You can do nothing but flutter your eyes as he takes you, finally, as his own.

And it must be some cruel joke of both Mother Earth and Father Sky that it prolongs whatever bliss he just gave you with his mouth. Your body won't stop having its pleasure; it welcomes him with a string of helpless whimpers. Even your cunt starts to squeeze him like it's the best thing in this world.

And he sees it. He feels it.

“Ja, little one. Time to fuck.”

He continues his journey inside, one massive palm landing on each side of your head as he leans over you.

“Einfach so… Trust me. Hmm?”

You only nod, completely silent and tame, waiting for him to give you more gifts. Mother knows this man is your downfall: your heart and soul are about to burst into flame when you look at him. You want him with your whole being; you want his love and praise so much you could cry.

“You want cock?”

“Yes,” you look up at him, eyes surely shining like stars. “Yes, yes, yes–”

“I will give you. Don’t worry.”

You sob as he withdraws, pulling the long, delicious cock almost completely out. He returns immediately when you whine from the loss. He feels so good, and so, so big… Fulfilling you entirely, every bit of you that was hollow and empty, every little space that needed loving is now his and filled with love.

“Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng,” he huffs and looks down as if to check if it’s true that he’s finally inside you. It could never fit in fully; you both probably knew that. But he’s trying his best.

“What does that mean?” You pant, impatient that he stopped moving.

“Too small... For me...” he laments. Or brags.

“Any woman is too small for you,” you mope underneath him, thinking about whether he has had women who have been able to take him fully in. Women who haven’t been “too small”.

König raises his eyes to you and smiles, revealing a row of white teeth, the scarred lip making his grin look pure and sweet even if he is a menacing man.

Stupid mountain giant… He's just proud of not being able to fit inside you. Your lower lip juts out with a pout, and the cock inside you responds immediately with a pulse. You can feel it — he's fucking excited about you getting angry at him again.

There is a flash of mischief in his eyes – darned bastard – just before he swoops down to attack your neck. Your tits get crushed under a solid chest as he nuzzles close to your ear and gives you lots of love and little bites. He starts to fuck you slowly, and there's nowhere you can escape now, nowhere you can flee his mouth or teeth or cock.

“König, you promised–”

“Aber… You are more tight this way?” 

The breathless laugh that follows leaves you blinking. Of course he can feel the way you tighten around him every time he gives you a little bite.

“Gods, I hate you…” you whisper on his shoulder, thinking about biting him there in return. König laughs in your neck again – your threats of hate have long past lost their intimidating nature and are more like love confessions to him now. And perhaps that’s what they are.

He makes love to you hard and good, and it’s embarrassing, how you're about to cum again around his cock. You were supposed to have your revenge by showing him you have teeth too, but find yourself biting your lip instead, trying to tone down at least some of the filthy sounds that try to escape you.

He's not too rough, at least not yet, happy with listening to the poorly stifled whimpers that follow his every thrust. You thought he'd rail you like an animal, but he seems to settle for making love to you while biting and groping you all over. He savours every thrust like he savoured those grapes you fed him: slowly and intently, with passion instead of greed.

You're squeezing him with everything you have as he rocks you back to the edge. His grunting only make it all worse: he doesn't even try to be quiet and decent, and it's driving you to madness. Why does he have to be so noisy? Why does he have to fuck you so that everyone can hear just how good you feel?

Every soldier in this camp can hear both your moans, his hoarse ones and your weak ones, merging together until you do sound like animals in heat... You’re so wet that some of the men must hear the music of that, too. You never knew your cunt would be so hungry and needy, least of all for a man like him. You grip him as the waves approach, rich moans turning into pathetic little cries as his cock works you open.

“Again…?” He smiles a surprised laugh on your neck. The waves hit you before you can tell him to shut up.

The noise you make is even more obscene this time, and you barely catch a glimpse of his drowsy, victorious stare before your head falls back. You squeeze your eyes closed, trying to take in the most powerful orgasm and the most powerful cock of your life without having to see that stupid, happy face of your lovesick giant.

“Nein,” he grabs your jaw inside a huge but gentle hand. “Eyes open.”

He won't even let you cum in peace, but you do as you’re told, finding him watching you like a stormcloud or a god. He watches your every tremble, every whimper, every sigh. He sees the full-blown love in your eyes, and you wonder… Is this what the bards sing about in their stupid songs? 

…Weakness?

Because your heart hurts and your eyes sting, your thighs tremble and your cunt is far too wet and open for him to plough. If this is love, it hurts; it burns far too sweet. It leaves you utterly weak.

“Little one is needy,” he comments softly on your second downfall.

“You’re the one who’s needy–”

Your already weak argument ends in a gasp as he reminds you who you belong to with another good, deep thrust.

“I will put a child in you,” he rumbles, a threat or a promise. “If we do this every night… You will have my child.”

“Then let’s do this every night,” you whisper beneath him, your own purr of a threat. As if you didn’t know how babies were made… To your silent joy, König stops to catch his breath or your words; you’re not entirely sure which. You decide to up the stakes, just to make him fall with you.

“And every morning too?”

“Ach, du kleine–” he crumbles, voice turning to dust from your innocent suggestion.

If you thought he was a little too in love with you before, the look on his face now is worth all the gold in the world. You could swear that your kind question is the sole reason for this man cumming on the spot. Perhaps your body is to blame for it too; he couldn't keep his paws off when you were being sulky and difficult, so how could he take it when you're pleased and loving and all puffed up?

You see the brief flash of vulnerability, the mortal fragility in his eyes just before he shoots his load with a painful-sounding groan. The sound that leaves him is a mixture of desperation and release – even giants can cry, you think as you watch how beautifully he comes undone. He makes sure his seed is sent deep inside you by burying his cock into you, as far as it can go; the intention behind it is so clear that you wouldn't be surprised if you got heavy with a child after this first time.

He falls on top of you after, drained and spent and body heaving from exertion. There’s no other sound in the night but the satisfied panting of you two: the soldiers outside are rendered silent by the sounds of true lovemaking, even the wind spirits are hushed tonight.

You’re completely filled, and with his cock still inside you, he’s preventing any precious seed from escaping. You’re only glad he’s too weak to move because you’d happily keep him here forever, inside and on top of you like this.

“You are pleased…?” He turns his head a little, sounding worried enough to make you hug him tight.

“Yes. Very much,” you whisper, and he moves to rise and look you in the eyes. 

“Gut.”

It’s cute to be nose to nose like this with him, eyes locked together, lips only a hair’s breadth apart. He looks so intoxicated and happy without even being drunk that you break into a small laugh, eyes brimming with happy tears, the washing away of relief. He smiles too, then laughs with you.

The soldiers outside might think it an odd business: to make a woman moan and laugh with a cock. You were brought to this tent screaming, and he made you scream again, just not the way they thought.

The sound of your mutual laughter rises in the tent, up towards the heavens, surely making even the Sky Father smile above.

…

You do it every night, and every morning, too.

Sometimes, you do it during the day after bathing in the stream. After washing and playing in the water, you rush to the shore together, but König is always faster than you. He throws your dress away or holds it up above his head, far from your reach, smiling like the most innocent man in the world. He's far from innocent, though: his cock hangs heavy between his legs, swelling just from seeing you angry and flustered and wet. 

“Bully,” you accuse, utterly in love and out of breath, earning you another attack of a love-hungry giant. You forget the dress when he kneels on the grass, kisses your stomach and your thighs, keeps you in place for his mouth with two strong arms and a love that turns your whole body weak. 

“Pretty,” is the only thing he breathes as an answer before he scoops up your leg and spreads you open for his mouth.

Your head rolls back with a choked sigh, the drops on your skin dry on their own. Somehow, you end up on the grass with his mouth glued on you. The sun plays in your hair; it dances on your face as he gives you more and more until you know, you just know that if you do this every night and morning and day, you will definitely have his child.

He tells you his real name, his true name, the one his mother gave him. You moan it in his ear just before you cum around his length. Sometimes, it makes him purr; other times, it makes him grunt. Once, you hear a soft, pitched whine. 

He’s more rough when you’re on your knees. You’re shy and wet when he commands you to prop yourself on your elbows and show him your cunt. He licks you from front to back, feasts on you until your breaths turn to shivers. You squeeze your eyes shut from how obscene the scene must look; you hope to all the gods the Roman slave won’t come to ask his travel guides back when König finally rises and takes a wide stance behind you. He sets himself on your opening and pushes in, fat and greedy. 

You can only whimper as he starts the thrusts, starved and slow, picking up the pace and holding you in place by the hips when you approach the brink of another collapse. You fear you will lose your mind if he keeps doing this to you every day. The only thing you hear are the breathless, warm grunts of encouragement behind you.

“You can take it. You can take it. Already took it, little one…”

He won’t stop, not even as you cry out loud, the cock hitting you in places that make your legs nearly give in. He won’t stop even as tears brim, not even as you start to sound like a tortured animal; no, he just tightens his grip on your waist and pounds you harder. You cum with a moan that would make Roman whores blush, but your lover doesn’t mind at all. He cums right after you, with a roar that could raise the reverend dead from their mounds.

Afterwards, he’s gentle again. He gathers you in his arms like his most valuable possession, caressing and breathing you in, giving you a soft kiss behind your ear.

“You’re... mean,” you try to remember how to breathe as he gives you more of those hungry kisses. You already know he likes it when you’re so spent you don’t have the strength to squirm or fight him.

“Ja. And you become more nice when I bully you,” he whispers in your ear. “More calm… Less difficult.”

“Well, you don’t,” you turn inside his hold, eyes shining brighter than the stars or even the sun. “Crazy man…”

“You have robbed me of my sword and shield, it’s true. Robbed my heart too. Little thief.”

“Thief? You’re the one who stole me…!”

“And I’ll never let you go.”

You wriggle a hand to cup his face, meeting his eyes with such helplessness that it’s not even funny anymore. If he’s joking or playing with you now, you’ll kill him with his own swords.

“You promise?”

“I make a vow,” he declares ceremoniously, with a hand on his heart. But you doubt that he’s playing any games; you wonder if this man is even capable of lying or deception. You hug him so tight that he has to let out a grunt – surprised and pleased – after which you have to bury your face in his neck so that he won't see your tears.

“I am in love with you, Fee,” he whispers in your ear while caressing your hair, ever poetic for such a simple man. “Tell me. Do you like me too…?”

“Yes,” you breathe a half-cry, half-laugh in his neck. “Yes, you crazy giant. I like you too.”

You rise just enough to kiss him. It’s hungry and delivers everything you can’t say. You can’t tell him you love him; you simply can’t. You’re not ready for the painful happiness it would bring forth. He stabs you full of it anyway.

“I will never let you go. Never. Not when I finally found you, little one...”

…

Summer comes.

The camp moves lazily to its next destination, but when the next battle comes, König refuses to fight. 

His soldiers blame you, of course. You have bewitched him with your softness, making him soft and spineless as well. It is unheard of that a warrior like him would fall like this: out of some woman’s underhanded spell rather than dying gloriously in the field by a barbarian blade or two. Even poison is considered better than this.

No one understands that there is no hex. The war is still being fought, this time inside his soul. It’s not just you preventing him from taking up arms; it’s something else, something old and deep-rooted you've managed to stir in him. Something ferocious, something that has been asleep for a long time, something that is far from all things soft.

You two sneak out from the camp after the bulk of the army has marched away. He takes you to the seaside again, to a wild, roaring shore. You laugh and bask in the sun, swim in the sea and eat the first berries of the season. You lie on the tall grass, naked as the day you were born: it's simply too hot to wear anything except your glowing skin. König starts to ask you peculiar questions while tracing the soft line of your spine. 

He asks what kind of house you would like to live in, and tries to find out in a roundabout way if you would like to live in a forest or in the hills. You treasure the sound of waves, and König likes the sound of the wind in trees, but you both love steep hills and the open view of plains. You get the idea that he may want to retire somewhere in the near future. 

He tells you he is not a good fisherman but can hunt everything that moves. He is good with a spear, with traps and the bow, and he’s tired of hunting humans who only wish to live in peace. The arena he could understand, but the war on foreign lands, not. And if you begin to swell with his offspring, the Roman encampment at war is the last place for a sweet little fairy like you. He asks what kind of village you used to live in and is somewhat sad to hear all the things you tell him. He says it sounds like home, the one he was taken from many years ago. 

When you return to the camp, it’s like you two are a different species altogether, two wild animals who sneak from the gates back to the flock, back to being human, back to being caged and tamed and stunted. The grumpy, tired soldiers witness your wildness and happiness with sullen distaste. To them, your appetite for freedom is the filthiest, most treacherous thing in the world. 

The commander of the troops summons König at his feet and threatens to flog him if he ever skips a battle again. He’s told that only barbarians ignore orders like this: at the turn of a whim or a woman or wind. If he doesn’t remember who he is, not the reckless murderer of his youth but a man reborn, a noble Roman citizen, he will risk descending into apathy and greed again. Was this the case, Rome will guide him back to fold again by the crack of a whip if it has to.

That night, you tell him that you love him. Wherever he goes, you will go. That night, when you’re lying in his arms, sweaty and spent and thoroughly happy, he speaks words so wild it shakes the whole tent with a wind.

“If I kill the soldiers, will you come with me?”

It’s only a mutter, a murmured, careful whisper, but it makes you rise to sit and place a hand on his chest for extra support.

“Kill the soldiers? You mean… Kill the Romans?”

“Ja. All of them.”

The shock quickly makes way to disbelief. Can such a thing even be done? He’s a giant, but he’s still just one man. But König doesn’t look restless at all; he looks like a man who has finally made a decision he should have made years ago. He looks like someone who is at peace with their soul.

"Where would we go?" You whisper weakly, unsure if he has given this enough thought or thought at all. It’s now the wanderer in him who speaks, the adventurer who fears nothing because he has already lost everything – and found the most precious, essential thing. 

You. Himself…

Free will.

“Wherever you want.”

“What if you get killed…?”

“You take treasure and horse and go.”

…

Your mother always said that it's useless to sway a man if he has chosen to stand up and fight. She told you that the best you could do is go grab a sword and join him.

That is why you give him your blessing – your full, ardent blessing.

It makes him stronger than ever: were he to go out there with nothing but his skin, he would be victorious. The oak that hears your magnificent spell shivers from fear above you as you call down earth, fire and wind. 

You call the spirits from below to guide his feet and make them swift and silent as a feather in the wind. You call down the lightning from the sky to accompany his sword as he deals his blows. You cloak him with the fury of the dead; they will smite down his enemies when they catch even a glimpse of him. You shroud him with the Mother's blessing so that he will be untouchable, unstoppable, invincible as he deals death among the Romans.

It’s a terrible spell; even the moon withdraws into a cloud when She hears it. Not even the lady of silver twilight dares to reveal this giant to the Romans as he’s about to descend upon them.

He rises with the power of fifteen men and gives you a kiss that nearly topples you. He smiles before he leaves you, and never looks back as he goes to do the deed of a legend.

You watch the massacre up from a hill. A safe distance from the camp, but close enough to see how König destroys a whole cohort by himself. The plant you mixed into the “reconciliation wine” he gave his soldiers and the commander before nightfall makes it laughably easy because most of the men are still half asleep when they burn inside their tents. The oil spilt on the dry dirt and linen roars aflame now with the help of the wind and earth spirits as König torches the camp. The occasional few soldiers that rise to meet him with fear in their stare are already broken by your spell before his swords impale them. 

The old translator is the only Roman who wasn’t given a cup of foxglove wine because he was König’s slave, and now he can see that he is blessed among men. The God of War faces him with swords pointing to the ground, fury planting his feet wide, and it takes the old Roman a while to understand that he’s the only man who gets to walk out of this camp unharmed. As grumpy and unsociable as he is, you wish him good fortune on his future journeys, even utter a quick protection spell to shroud him as he leaves towards his destiny on enemy land.

The slave women, sober, confused, and free, run amock to gather weapons, cloaks, food, and valuables before escaping the camp. König doesn’t even notice them, and they pay little mind to the enraged god ramming through puny mortals because they’re too busy getting out of the burning castra.

How fitting it is that the only people escaping the hellfire are a few beaten women and an old, weak-calved Roman – every able-bodied soldier burns inside his tent or meets their end at your lover’s blade.

The wind spirits help spread the fire so eagerly that you begin to fear that König won’t make it out in time. You whisper prayers into your fist, curled around the Mother who has already given you so much. She has also taken away everything; like seasons, she has reaped and sown, but if she reaps your lover now, you will walk into the sea.

Mother is merciful and returns him to you, unharmed and glorious. He's the same ferocious beast you saw half a moon ago, and also the same ferocious man who was inside you this very morning. You see a god of war, and he sees the mother of life and death, perhaps, because his first words to you are a ripe offering.

“I avenged them all,” he says when he reaches you, thrumming with victory and smelling of smoke and ruin and blood.

He has been born again; he has walked to a new dawn through fire and death and returns to your arms like you two have known each other since the beginning of time. You’re not sure if he talks about his fallen ones or your fallen ones, or everyone who has fallen to these particular Roman spears. You’re not sure if this is his downfall because what you’re looking at is only the downfall of the Roman campaign on your lands. You and König are very much wild and spirited and free. If this is a downfall, it feels like being lifted towards the sky. You see in his eyes that he feels the same as you.

The whole world is new as you leave towards a new life. Sun rises, and takes years off your backs. You wash him in the sea and kiss the salt away from his lips, and it feels only right that he takes you on the grass after slaughtering your enemies.

You bury the statues and the bronze sword in your old village, long abandoned and thoroughly looted. The old woman is in her hut, dead as a stone, and she finally looks happy, with a calm little smile on her face and flowers in her hand. She looks like a young girl, almost, ready to meet the spring of her life.

"Ready for adventure, little one?" König smiles as he raises you to his horse. He takes direction from the sun while you look down at his happy, golden form – your god, your life, your love. 

Your new beginning.

...

Translations:

Richtig? - Right?/Correct?

Einfach so - Just like that

Verdammte… Götter, du bist zu eng - Damn… Gods, you are tight

Aber… - But…

Ach du kleine… - Oh you little…

Scheisse - Shit/Fuck

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

How You Turn My World; Chapter 1

Your day started with chaos, and my dear, it looks like it will continue to be chaos. But only time will tell. The Underground holds many surprises in store for you.

Characters; Grim, Lilia Vanrouge, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola

Content; Gender-neutral reader, cat shenanigans, building the plot

Content Warnings; Swearing, illusion to marijuana but there is none

Word Count; 4.6 K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |

Don't put my work into AI; I'll make sure you go to the Underground and don't return. Mwah mwah, kisses~

Ah, the joys of cat parenthood. Days spent cuddling your little bundle of furry joy. That’s what your friends preached. That having a feline roommate was easy and rewarding. That you would benefit by having a cute and fuzzy companion that didn’t demand much of anything. That you would love your little kitty friend like a child. Well, either your friends were liars with questionable senses of humour, or you drew the short stick when it came to choosing a furry companion. And there’s always the possibility of it being both, what with having Ace as a friend and all, but you just hoped it was just your shit luck and not that you had shit friends.

Seriously, though, what higher power did you manage to piss off to deserve the royal hobgoblin of a cat you have? He has shit and pissed in your plants on several occasions. Demolished every single curtain he laid eyes on like he had a personal vendetta against them. Stole your breakfast off your plate right as you were about to take a bite. Puked on your last pair of good white shoes, which still had stains on them because they wouldn’t come out. The cherry on top of it all though was that he insists on yowling and crying in the middle of the damn night for no good reason. Rudely awaking you from the dead of sleep because he demanded attention. With how loud he was, you were surprised that you hadn’t gotten a noise complaint from any of your neighbours… yet. But then again, you could hear the upstairs neighbours’ children screaming bloody murder every so often — what were their names, the Clovers? They were probably so used to it that they threw you a bone, or they didn’t want extra grey hairs from filing a complaint to the landlord. So maybe Grim wasn’t all that bad, but he was still a gremlin child. 

“MROWWWWWW!!!!!” Ah, so tonight was no different then. Grim had decided that you needed to be woken up before even the birds started to sing, needed to be yanked out of the land of dreams. That whatever had caught the attention of his singular brain cell was more important than you recharging so you don’t accidentally say the wrong thing to your boss. Since last time you had slipped up and called him dad, even though no one in their right mind would leave him alone with a rutabaga unattended, and he went on a two-hour long monologue about how much of a kind and generous person he was for you to see him as a father figure. And your salary wasn’t high enough, nor would it ever be, to deal with his eccentric and maddening behaviour.

Maybe, just maybe, if you ignored him and stared at the ceiling long enough he would stop his caterwauling and go to sleep. “MROWWWW!!!!!” Apparently not.

Just one night, ONE NIGHT, of peace and quiet. PLEASE. But you knew that if you didn’t get up soon, he would get up on the bed and put his fluffy butt in your face… like he did last night and the night before that. Sighing, you begrudgingly got out of your cocoon of warm, fluffy, blankets, and hoped you would soon be back in them after dealing with Grim. Hopefully, he was just complaining about his food bowl not being as full as he would like it.

What was the time anyways? Three-thirty in the morning? Ugh, Grim! What did Ace say about it, ah, yes, “Primetime witching hour. Demons and all sorts of creepies” yada yada yada. But you didn’t pay any mind to him, as his annoying smug look would taunt you in your mind even though he was probably sound asleep, blissfully asleep. Something that you wanted to be doing, but woefully you were not.

Stepping out into the main living space, you shot the grey fuzzball the stink eye. “What the hell do you want? You absolute gremlin!” You hissed through gritted teeth, very much annoyed with your brat of a fur child and wanting nothing more than to crawl back to bed, hell, even the loveseat would suffice.  

The offending feline just trilled at you in response, and his tail vibrated, happy that you had come out to see him. How is he so cute but so annoying? He rubbed against your legs before trotting off to one of his hidey holes, which also served as his nest of your stolen socks. He has a weird obsession with socks. But he popped back out, holding something in his mouth. Something small and fuzzy that didn’t look like any of his toys.

“Prowwww,” he dropped it at your feet as if saying that catching whatever it was, was the equivalent to paying his share of rent. Which, it was very much not.

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. Please be one of his toys. PLEASE be one of his toys. You chanted to yourself in your mind and then opened your eyes. Unfortunately, it was not one of his toys. The small, fuzzy thing in question seemed to be a mouse or some other kind of rodent. It was too late (too early?) for this, and quite frankly you didn’t have the brain power to confirm whatever the hell it was. All you knew was that it looked like a mouse, therefore it was a mouse.

“Is this what you’ve been screaming about this whole time? A mouse,” you sighed. Shaking your head, you went to the bathroom, grabbing some paper towel so you could at least put it outside for something else to eat, or go back to nature in some other way. It was better than just being left to decompose in the communal garbage bin. When you came back out though, it was nowhere to be seen. Now, either Grim decided to eat it like a good kitty cat, or, with your luck, it was still alive and was now running amuck in your apartment.

Grim’s chattering was coming from the kitchen now, and he was up on top of the fridge. It was running amuck in your apartment, how lovely.

“Why, why, are you like this?! Get down from there!” You really didn’t have the energy for this.

Grim just blinked at you before his eyes dilated. He leapt down from his perch on the fridge and was pawing at a corner by the window. Looking down and you couldn’t make out anything on the floor. But you had the oh-so-brilliant idea to look up toward the ceiling. The ‘mouse’ was very much alive, and wasn’t a mouse at all, since it was flying around and banging itself against the corner.

“YOU CAUGHT A FUCKING BAT?!”

He had indeed caught a fucking bat. And bats were normally fine, when they were outside. Not when they’re flying around your apartment at three o’clock in the morning and your cat is losing his goddamn mind trying to catch it. So no, this was very much not fine. 

The bat was about as pleased as you were with this whole situation and kept on flinging itself against the glass of the window, desperately trying to get back outside. How the hell did it get inside in the first place? That could be pondered on upon at a later time, as the first priority was getting it back outside.

“Don’t fly towards my head, bat. I’m just trying to get you back outside. You’re a nice bat, right? Nice bat, nice bat,” you whispered in a non-threatening tone. Could the flying mammal understand what you were saying? Mostly likely not. Hopefully it understood that you, unlike your cat, were trying to help and did not want some fresh bat as your late night snack tonight.

After what felt like forever fuddling with the window to open with a broom in hand, just in case the bat decided to dive bomb your head, you finally got the cursed thing open. 

Grabbing Grim, who was still trying to catch the bat for a second time tonight, you got back to your bedroom and locked the door shut. You hoped that the bat would take the hint that it now had a path to freedom, but only time, and a bit of sleep, would tell. Slumping against the door frame, you sighed and looked over at Grim. He was playing with the door stop, the boing, boingg, boinggg sounds filling in the quiet. Whether it was to amuse himself, or to annoy you was a fifty-fifty bet.

Just as you were about to crawl back under the covers a string of anxiety connected in your head. Shit, did Grim get bit? DAMMIT GRIM! After leaving a somewhat desperate and tired call to your vet’s voicemail, alongside an apology for the late call (early call?), you peeked outside to see if the bat was still flying around. According to Google, the bat should be tested for rabies. You did not trust your no brain cell having fluff ball to know better than to get bit by a possibly rabid bat. But it was gone, so yet again, you were out of luck.

You had enough with today, even though it had just really begun. Pulling up the covers, you sighed in the dark warmth of your blanket cocoon. Grim was busying himself by trying to pounce on your feet, but you ignored him, falling back to sleep and hoping that the rest of your day wouldn’t bring any more shenanigans, migraines, or small flying mammals.

…

…

…

By some miracle, you managed to get Grim to the vet the very same day. Your boss agreed to let you work from home because he is ever so kind and generous… It did help that one of the other higher-ups nearly nagged off his ear upon hearing about the condition of your cat. Even through the phone you could hear it, and could only imagine the spectacle it must have been. Oh well, you had the day off and that is what mattered… but you would be lying if you said that you didn’t cough out a laugh just imagining the scene on the other side of the phone.

You were relieved, Grim on the other hand was not having it. To be fair, you did trick him into his crate with some tuna. He made his disdain known to all though by crying the entire way there. You almost felt bad for him, almost being the key word. 

“You have no one to blame for this but yourself, ya know.” You huffed at him, feeling your shit sleep all too well. “Crying about it won’t help you any.”

Grim let out a pathetic little mew. His little, bright, blue eyes being the only visible part of him, which peered out miserably from the crate. Caving to the kitty manipulation, you poked your finger in as a peace offering. Grim booped his nose to your finger and then proceeded to nibble on it; such a vicious beast.

The vet visit went as well as you could hope it could, as Grim only tried to maim the vet a few times. Hey, it was an improvement from last time, as he had actually peed on them. So yes, trying to maim was vastly better than seeing your figurative child pee on the doctor. You’re pretty sure your vet didn’t go through years of schooling and thousands of dollars into debt just to get peed on by your unruly cat. But Grim was won over by the offering of that cat gogurt, his nose and stomach betraying him. Note to self, stock up on some of that stuff.

The rest of the visit went on without a hitch; he had some blood drawn, got his booster shot for rabies, and even managed to squeeze in a bonus nail trim. There was no evidence of any bite or puncture marks, so Grim by some miracle, did indeed have enough brain cells not to get bit.

“Grim will have to be watched for about forty-five days,” the vet hummed, checking Grim’s chart. “Since you don’t have any other animals it shouldn’t be too difficult to keep him in quarantine. If you see any symptoms be sure to bring him back, just in case.” They gave you a tired smile, and then turned that smile towards their cantankerous patient. “And thank you for deciding not to pee on me this time, Grim. I’m not so bad, see?”

Grim swatted at them, which was his answer to the vet’s question. In Grim’s book, the vet was that bad.

Ignoring his attitude, as you would whenever you came across a screaming toddler and exhausted parent while doing your grocery run, you turned back to your vet. “Thank you, and sorry for Grim. If it makes you feel any better, he’s just as much as a gremlin child at home as well.” At least today went better than last time.

The vet chuckled goodheartedly, “Don’t worry about it, I have more unruly patients than little Grim here.”

Damn, they have seen some shit, haven’t they? … Maybe I should, I don’t know, bring them a gift basket next time I’m in? Or maybe a gift card for a spa day or something??? You should really get them something for the amount of dry cleaning they probably needed to do.

With the visit over, and Grim having a clear bill of health, you shoved him back into his carrier with zero decorum, closing the door as fast as possible before he could escape and try to hide behind the counter like he did last time. I know your tricks, cat. Speaking of bills, the one that was waiting for you at the front desk was enough for you to point an icy glare at your unruly ward.

“You’re lucky that I love you, asshole.” And much like the vet you too got a swat as your thank you. Wonder if this is what the Clovers feel about their children? At least their kids didn’t wake them up in the middle of the night with a bat they caught… You shook your head, moving past those thoughts, and hauled your wailing cat back home.

…

...

By the time you got back to your place, it was just a little past noon. The rest of your day was wide open, and you didn’t really have anything else to do, since taking Grim to the vet was the most urgent of your tasks. Your place could benefit from some tidying, since your boss had recently been demanding more as of late and has been even less useful than he usually was… which was saying something. Seriously, how does he have his position? It was baffling. You swore you could hear his monologue playing on loop in your head whenever you thought of the man, which you tried to keep to a minimum for your own sanity… whatever little of it still remained that is.

Shaking your head to rid the annoying voice, you put on your favourite playlist and got to work. You took your time, putting away the dishes, vacuumed the main room, and even got rid of the dust on the high shelves. But your place was small, so it didn’t take very long for you to tidy up, and deep cleaning could wait for another day when you had enough energy to mentally and physically deal with that undertaking.

You knew that your email probably had a few messages, but it could wait. You weren’t on the clock and therefore didn’t have to check it. Only do the stuff you’re required to do when you get paid, it makes your downtime way more enjoyable.

But, you were bored. The cleaning helped with it, but with the majority of it done and the more intense stuff waiting for another day, you had nothing else to do. And while doom scrolling through social media may fill in the time, it too, was boring, predictable.

… There were two people though who were the exact opposite of boring and predictable. And yes, they did give you your fair share of migraines and questioning your life decisions more than you usually do, they were your best friends. And you were in need of having a movie night with them.

Opening up the group chat, you typed in a message.

| The Responsible One | You guys down for a movie night at my place tonight?

And almost immediately, Ace replied.

| Ginger, derogatory | depends  | ya got fiid?

Deuce responded shortly after.

| Mama’s Boi | Yeah, I’m down | What time? | . . . | And what’s fiid?

|The Responsible One | How does 6 sound?

| Ginger, derogatory | IT WAS A TYOP | *TYPO | I MEANT FOOD | F O O D

| Mama’s Boi | 6 works for me

| The Responsible One | I took a screenshot of that btw love you Ace | Thanks Deuce for actually giving me an answer. | What FIID do you guys want?

| Ginger, derogatory | FUCK YOU | … but yeah 6 works 4 me | any is cool with me

| The Responsible One | Yes yes, fuck you too Ace | Bring your own snacks it is then | See you guys at 6!

That gave you about ninety minutes to hide your good snacks, since the last time, Ace had made himself too comfortable and ate all your fancy treats that you paid way too much for. But like they say, you deserve to ‘treat yoself’ … Ace still owed you for those snacks though. They were fucking expensive, prick.

…

Ninety minutes didn’t take very long, but you managed to hide some of the mess that you hadn’t tackled in your bedroom; it could stand to wait. And the first of your dork friends arrived right on time, count on Deuce trying to be punctual… even if he was panting like he had run a marathon to make it.

“You know,” you sighed, “you didn’t have to sprint here.” You grabbed a glass, filled it with some ice water, and handed it over to your flushed and heaving friend. Please don’t pass out on me. “It’s not a race.”

Deuce took the glass and downed it, still catching his breath. He lifted up the tote bag he was carrying, “Mom made brownies.” A series of coughs escaped him, but he gave you a bashful smile and showed off the multiple Tupperware containers filled to the brim with still warm chocolatey divineness. “Didn’t want them to get cold! Oh! She also made extra for you too!”

He is such a sweetheart… but he’s also pretty dense at times, still a sweetie though. You could have just warmed them back up in the microwave — yes, they weren’t the same as fresh from the oven, but still — you didn’t have the heart to tell Deuce that though. He looked so proud that he made it on time and that the brownies were still warm. What did you do to deserve Deuce as a friend? 

“Also,” he fished around the tote bag, “I brought extra popcorn, since we ate all of yours last time.” And he pulled out an unopened bag of popcorn, the bashful smile turning bright.

Deuce took a step forward, but stopped and backpedalled, taking off his shoes. After he set them neatly by the door, he made his way to the kitchen, and set all of his assorted belongings on the meagre counter space. Once he unloaded the tasty cargo, he made his way over to your loveseat, which had seen better days, and sat down, getting comfortable.

He was looking at you, and there was a little crease in between his eyebrows. Deuce only wore that look when he was worried. “Are you feeling okay? You seem a bit… off.” 

You gave him a tired smile, “Meh. Tired, stressed, not enough money. You know, the usual.” You noticed that his frown was only deepening, so you took a seat next to him and patted his shoulder. “Seriously, Deuce, I’m okay. Plus you got enough on your own plate without worrying about me. I’m going to be fine.”

Deuce pursed his lips, but let out a long sigh, accepting your answer without much fuss. You were capable of dealing with whatever it was, he knew that. You were one of the most capable, and stubborn, people that he knew. You would be fine in the end. “Whose turn is it to pick the movie this time?” He asked, stretching out, trying not to bump into you.

“Hmm, your turn actually,” you hummed. “But–”

Bzz! Bzzz! BZZZ! Someone was buzzing your door, repeatedly pushing at the button. Only one person you know did that. BZZZZZZZZ! And he wouldn’t let up until you answered the door.

Groaning, you got out of your spot and peaked through the peephole. On the other side was none other than Ace, who’s leg was bouncing and he kept on pushing your damn buzzer.

You only opened the door when he decided to lean on it, making him almost fall… almost. Maybe next time would be the day where you would see him eat dirt. “Happy you could join us on this lovely evening,” you drawl, doing a little bow.

Ace rolled his eyes at you, “Seriously? Feeling petty tonight I see.” He too took off his shoes, since the last time he wore them in and tracked in mud from outside, you made him clean it up. He learned his lesson that day, and really didn’t feel like cleaning your floor again.

You smiled at him, “Yeah, yeah I am~” You dropped the smile and went back to your comfy spot beside Deuce. “Also,” you turned around right as Ace was about to plunder your fridge. You glared at him, and he backed off, giving you a sheepish look. “Don’t even think about stealing my food, there’s popcorn and you have food at your home. Unless you want to start paying for my groceries, stick to what’s on the counter.”

Closing the fridge, Ace busied himself by making himself some popcorn, and sneaking a brownie or two in his mouth as he waited for the microwave to finish making his treat. While he was busy in the kitchen, you and Deuce were slowly going through the seemingly endless catalogue of movies. 

“What are we even watching tonight? There’s no special occasion,” Ace mused, sitting on the counter, swinging his legs back and forth. “Action? Horror? Sci-fi? Perhaps,” he paused and made a kissy face, “romance?~”

You stared at him, until he dropped the kissy face. “Never do that again,” you deadpanned, turning back to the screen. “Found something?”

Deuce was hovering over a title, Labyrinth. “Can we watch this? Mom said it was one of her favourites when she was a kid.”

Ace plopped into the armchair, and started chowing down on his fresh popcorn. “Dude, your mom probs just had the hots for, uhhh, Jared? Or whatever his name is.”

You threw a pillow at him, but missed unfortunately, and Ace flipped you off. “First off, Ace, his name is Jareth not Jared. And yeah, we can watch it,” you said, stretching back and getting into prime comfortable blob position. Oh yeah, you weren’t getting back up. 

Once Deuce got up and brought some snacks back in, you started the movie. And damn, these brownies are divine. You really needed to ask Ms. Spade for her recipe. The popcorn was decent, overall meh, but the brownies! THE BROWNIES!!!

You all settled down after being rationed your snacks, and you pressed play. Ace and Deuce both nearly choked on popcorn when Jareth appeared.

“WHY ARE HIS PANTS SO TIGHT?!” They both choked in unison. 

You just rolled your eyes and ignored them, trying to focus on the movie. Other than you nearly having to do the Heimlich manoeuvre on the both of them, the movie continued without incident, until a certain gremlin decided to start crying right as Magic Dance began playing. Seriously Grim, must you choose the most inopportune time to act like Toby does in the movie? But that’s life with a cat.

You paused the movie and looked at Deuce. You were in prime comfortable blob mode, you weren’t getting up. Deuce patted you on the shoulder and went to go see what on Earth Grim was screaming about. Ace just continued to scarf back brownies, thank goodness you hid some away before he got here, or else you wouldn’t have any come tomorrow.

But Deuce came running back out of your room, since that was where Grim was. And you were about to question why he looked like he’d just seen a ghost when something blurred right past him; something small, fuzzy, and flying.

The damn bat is back?! Yeah, you definitely felt like you were cursed.

Now, you could either get up and deal with the bat, since Deuce was just trying to shoo it outside the window with a mop and Ace was screaming much like Grim was, or you could stay warm and comfy and hide under the blanket, pretending that this wasn’t your waking reality…

Option B was really tempting right now, to be honest. Sighing, you got up, massaged your temples to collect yourself, before arming yourself with a broom yet again. Grim has his rabies vaccine, you don’t, so you weren’t taking any chances.

“WHY IS THERE A BAT IN YOUR APARTMENT?!” Ace hissed, ducking as the bat swooped near him.

You opened the window right open, almost threatening to take it off its bearings, “Because the universe hates me, that’s why!” Was it dramatic? Yes. Did it contain a seed of truth? Yes. So that’s what you went with. Was it really an exaggeration though? In the past twenty-four hours it really felt like the universe was sending you a personal ‘Fuck You ♡ ' letter with a kiss mark on the envelope.

You and Deuce tried to work together as a team to coax the bat outside. Come on, the window is wide open. Come on bat, get your fuzzy ass out of my place. 

All that was happening though, was some scene that belonged in a Three Stooges act. With Ace and Grim screeching — yes they counted as one collective unit — Deuce trying his best, but not getting anywhere, and you feeling like you were about to explode from the stress and noise. Even on an impromptu day off, you didn’t get a break, not really.

Getting whisked away by the Goblin King is looking real appealing right now. The bat swooped down close to you, and your instincts kicked in and you swung at it, making it crash land into your coffee table, right into the popcorn. And alongside the popcorn getting spilled everywhere, there was also a poof of green sparkles.

When the green sparkles subsided, there was a strange person with long black hair and red streaks, wearing something that looked straight out of a Ren Faire, and he was standing on your table. The strange man looked straight at you, and you looked back, blinking fast. Did Ms. Spade give us a different kind of brownie? Or is this actually happening?

He snapped his fingers, and you watched as he slowly disappeared into another poof of green sparkles. You were backing up, since hey there was a stranger in your place out of nowhere, but thanks to your shit luck, you tripped over your own feet, tumbling into them. And as the green poof subsided, both you, and the stranger, were nowhere to be seen. Leaving a very confused Ace, Deuce, and Grim to wonder what the hell happened to you.

And honestly? You were thinking the same. Where the FUCK am I?!

...

...

...

...

Tags; @busycloudy, @eynnwwyjth, @identity-theft-101, @ithseem, @krenenbaker, @ryker-writes, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

~~~~~~~

Author's Note; And I'm finally showing this to the world, after months of collecting dust in my Google Docs. I have no idea how long this fic will go on for, and the length may be dictated by how much feedback and interaction this gets, so yeah. General rating for this is Teen but might change in the future; I won't tag people if that happens though, cuz, yeah.

If you enjoyed this story, and want to read more of my stuff while I slowly work on more installments to this fic, check out my masterlist! Please ignore any spelling mistakes, I write and die with no beta.

[bahrtofane]

kylians sick, and only you can make him feel better

word count - 1.1 k+

watch it - pure fluff ^^

-----

kylian feels like shit. a pile of straight garbage. what he thought was a small headache and stuffy nose has snowballed full force into the worst cold he’s had since he was like 5. at least he hopes it’s just a cold. 

his eyes droop wet and cloudy with the tears that he keeps blinking away. he desperately wants to go to sleep but the constant leaking of his nose and the feeling of being permanently submerged in water from his ears down is making that impossible. his left ear hurts with each movement of his head, god forbid he yaws, not only does it send a shock wave of pain to his ear but also makes the swelling of his sore throat that much more apparent. 

his head pounds, phone long forgotten somewhere tossed on the floor. and to top it all off he thinks he’s running a fever. it’s so cold, no matter how hard he tries to sink deeper into his mattress, hugging his comforter tighter, he can’t fight the constant chill that creeps up his spine. 

it’s around 2 am last time he checked. god fucking dammit he just needs to go to bed. he so desperately wishes you were here, to kiss away his frustrated tears, tuck him into bed properly, make him feel better. but he doesn’t want to bother you. especially not at this time. he can power through this, he knows he can.

hours pass by in agony. the sweat has pooled in his sheets, sticking it to him and permanently settling in a cold he can’t shake off. it’s shit. he feels like shit. he probably smells like it too. And to make everything so much fucking better training is first thing tomorrow morning. Shit shit shit shit. 

why does this always happen to him at the most inconvenient of times. what it the hair he didn’t dry off before bed 2 days ago? the coat he didn’t wear when taking the trash out? ice water he drank after practice? holy fucking shit, he writhes in his sheets and comforters again, silently praying to any entity out there to end this suffering. 

the pain and exhaustion is what knocks him out. for better or worse. 

——-

kylian eyes open blearily, blinking away harsh rays of sunlight and crusties from the restless night. when he wakes he realizes one of two things, 1) it’s way, way, past training, and 2) he feels impossibly worse. 

he doesn’t get out of bed, mainly because he just can’t. the pain has immobilized him, fearing if he so much as moves an inch it’ll sink him further into helpless suffering. 

so he whines pitifully and closes his eyes tight. 

——-

he’s woken up again, but not by the sun, or pain. it’s the sound of his door opening that startles him awake. lovely, absolutely marvelous. he’s fucking bed ridden and about to be robbed. what a time to be alive. 

the footsteps don’t sound like an intruders, soft and gentle as they pad around his apartment. kylian waits in silence. what if it’s someone sent to check on him? hakimi most likely.

when the door to his room opens he’s never been happier to be wrong. 

it’s you, standing in his hoodie, wrapped in one of the blankets he leaves on the couch. a god send. 

you take one look at his feeble state and frown. 

“kyky?” 

all he can do is manage a garbled response, more of a pitiful whine. 

you rush over, kicking the blanket off and rushing up to cup his face in your hands. 

“my sweet baby, are you sick?” you murmur. 

a weak nod. 

“shit you're burning up, hold on.”  

you come back with a thermometer, gently opening his mouth and setting it under his tongue. 

“hold still baby.” you whisper, hand holding his jaw in place, he almost melts into your touch.

he waits for what feels like hours, till the little beeps go off and you gently remove the plastic from his mouth. 

“you have a fever all right. i prescribe to you bed rest, lots of fluids, and tylenol for the pain. “ 

he blinks sleepy and you take that as an answer. 

you get to work tidying up his room for him while he blinky sleepily as you.

"just rest, I'll call the team for you."

he goes back to the safety of sleep the moment you finish your sentence. 

—--

when he wakes out yet again, its to you at the foot of his bed, and a bowl of spoop in hand.

he grimaces at the thought but you shake your head, "you gotta eat baby."

he all but sobs trying to get up to eat properly, but you make it work. gently spooning the hot soup into his mouth. 

it takes a little while but the soup is half done when he calls it quits. flopping back into his expanse of pillows and blankets. 

he makes a noise and you feel his hand desperately reaching for you, as meek as can be. you give it to him, gently swiping your thumb over his. 

bed time proves to be a hassle as all he can do is groan in pain, begging for you to join him in the very few words he can croak out. 

“if i get sick, who will take care of you? “ 

he stays silent, out of spite or inability remains a mystery as you tuck him into bed properly and take your things to the guest room. 

——-

thankfully, it is just a cold and he’s back to his usual self in no more than 3 days. all thanks to you. 

he’s a quiet type of thanker, thanks lies in his actions and eyes rather than words. 

the gentle hand that rests on the small of your back, picking you up even if its just a 5 minute drive. he gets you flowers, and even takes you out to dinner. 

your smiles the whole way and it makes him beyond happy.

he finally gets those kisses he wanted to bad, easy and smooth against his skin.

"thank you darling." he hums, hands on your waist, bringing you close. 

you smile against his lips, melting into them once more. you sit on his lap at the edge of his bed. at the edge of the world you feel sometimes.

"come to the match?" he almost begs.

"always."

"I have a jersey I want to see you in." he plays with the hem of your shirt.

"when do you not want to see me in your jersey?" you playfully roll your eyes. 

he snorts, flipping you into your back, mercilessly attacking your sides with tickles as you burst at the seams.

you laugh till you cant breath, and he's enjoying this all too much. collapsing into you when he's had enough. 

"your heavy." you squeak.

he pretends not to listen, you resort to kicking him off.

"wheres this jersey ?" 

he immediately jumps at this, taking your hand in his to lead you to your 50th jersey of his at this point. you don't mind, if anything it fills you with pride and joy to wear his jerseys. always his.

[judasgot-it]

String Me By My Sins, So I Can Be Clean

Scenario: You found out. Yandere!Fyodor x Reader. Part 1 Word count: 1.2 K @ceramic-raven because you encouraged me to write a part 2. I hope you don't mind being tagged <3

Sitting in your small bathroom, you stared at a small patch that stared back at you.

21 mg. Nicotine. A beige-colored patch.

Just a minute ago, it had been adhered to your skin while you were sleeping, as if you had put it on yourself.

You don't smoke. You never smoked.

The only person you knew to smoke was Nikolai or Fukuchi, but you didn't know them to use patches. They only smoked socially, on good days when they could people watch or when Nikolai could show off vape tricks.

Fyodor had never dared to touch a cigarette, always claiming it as a hazard to his health. His lungs were probably as weak as the rest of his constitution, so you believed it.

So why the hell was it on your skin?

You wanted to ask him yourself, but he was sleeping.

Was it a good idea to wake him up?

You looked out into the darkness of your shared bed with Fyodor, looking at his sleeping form. His small frame was curled in a pile of blankets, curled against a feather pillow - like the princess and the pea, as you could see that he never looked truly comfortable.

The patch could be left for the morning.

He was smart. It must have had some sort of reasoning, shouldn't it?

Fyodor always found things out with almost no context needed. He could figure out the reason. You trusted him.

-

You had gone back to the bathroom. The patch was missing.

The trash, for once, taken out. In fact, it seemed the whole apartment had been meticulously cleaned.

You remembered that patch stared at you. The pain of removing it from your skin. How hard you had to pull it from your skin.

So where did it fucking go?

"Hey babe!"

You called for Fyodor, knowing that he was most likely working on the same projects that he always was. Whatever it was, he would be able to answer you, right?

There was no response from him this time though. You called again, but you were left with silence.

Padding towards his 'office space' you found that he had his headphones on. Was he busy today and hadn't bothered to tell you beforehand? Usually, he was rather meticulous about that.

Gently, you poked his shoulder, hoping to get his attention.

Fyodor only grunted, giving a sign of recognition. You tried again, hoping he would respond.

"Are you busy? I wanted to talk to you about something that happened last night."

Fyodor turned only slightly, his eyes still facing his screen - absorbed on whatever 'work' was on his screen. Code that you never bothered to learn to understand, that became a source of frustration as it seemed more important now.

"Yeah, what is it?"

Complete disinterest.

"I found like. A nicotine patch, last night. On me. Fyodor, that's weird, right?"

His eyes finally looked at you, although they were only glancing, at best.

"It is. You don't smoke, do you?"

"What?"

You took a moment to look at him. What the hell was he implying by that? He knew you never did. You always rejected them, since he was so sensitive to smells.

"If you do, you can tell me. I won't judge you."

His voice was soft, unjudgemental at the implication of you even having an addiction. You tried to keep calm through you frustration.

"I don't smoke. You know I don't, asshole! It's really weird that it showed up on my body like that, isn't it?"

You hoped he would help you. But he didn't even seem to care about your predicament so far, instead lazily moving typing commands on his keyboard like a sort of wizard.

"It is weird. If neither of us smoke, then how did it get there, hm? Maybe someone is playing a prank on you. Do you have the patch? We can figure out more about it from there."

He had leaned back, as calm about this conversation as anyone could possibly be. You wanted to kill him.

"It was on the bathroom counter when I took it off last night. I can't find it though!"

You couldn't help raising your voice at the end. For some reason, your frustration was building up so easily it was nearly boiling over.

It wasn't fair to take it out on Fyodor. He gave you a look as well, because well, you knew that you were being emotional about this.

It was just weird. Why was this upsetting you so much? You weren't usually upset so quickly like this.

"Sorry. But I'm being serious Fyo."

Trying your best to calm down, you took a deep inhale. Your lungs filled with air, clearing your head, if only a little.

There was still a frustration coursing through your veins, making you want to pull at Fyodor's hair for being so...well, him. Just being himself, right now.

Is he doing it on fucking purpose? Is he trying to piss you off as much as possible?

He's the smartest man you know, this isn't any real detective work. Fyodor knows why you're feeling the way you are. He can clearly tell that this actually happened - that you aren't fucking crazy.

So why is he acting like you are?

"Of course you are. I believe you, sweetheart. But what's the real problem here?"

His tired eyes slowly blinked at you. There was an emotion lurking in there, but you really didn't know how to describe it.

It was gentle, but not kind.

"Well. It was put on me. That means someone is drugging me. It's violating."

"I can see why you feel that way, yes. But maybe it was just an accident? People on the street these days are rather crazy-looney."

Fyodor had the gall to laugh as he said that, finding humor in his own words as he didn't find your plight worth crying over. There was no fret - being drugged was an everyday occurance.

Tomorrow you could be stabbed with heroin and it would just be an everyday occurrence, right? Worse things could happen to you. Maybe you would accidentally inhale deadly amounts of cocaine since this was just normal.

"Oh I can't believe you."

You left the room. At that moment you just wanted to punch Fyodor.

Did he always look that punchable? With his stupid smirk and pale, dead-looking skin. His eyes seemed so dead, with no read smile attached to them.

It was hard to look at him without feeling enraged.

"And where do you think you're going, sunshine?"

"Anywhere! If I have to see you again, I would probably. Oh!"

You made a noise as you kicked the door, rushing to just get out and get away from the source of your anxiety.

It felt natural, running outside and walking - letting the adrenaline in your body take you as far as it would let you.

Where were you going?

A hand on your arm stopped you. You turned around, the calm face that matched the pale skin - his dead purple eyes were smiling, although it made you stop dead in your tracks.

Where were you going?

You didn't have anything besides Fyodor.

"Please. Just leave me alone."

"You're being irrational, my dear. It's embarrassing."

The hold he had on your arm was tight, some hidden strength he carried that you never knew existed. Pulled did nothing, and there were tears pushing against your face as you felt the feeling again -

Trapped.

"Please. Fucking just. Let me go."

Shaking his head, Fyodor pulled you in - his face rested against your forehead, but the pull his hand had on his scalp was anything but gentle.

He was mad. About what?

Why did it always end up this way?

Honestly this can be stand alone, but YAY i finally finished this !!!! To the people who wanted this, I hope you enjoy this cuz this was kinda lot for me idk why.

[zmbiesuga]

I literally jumped with joy when you fallowed me back omg ily sm. So I was at the doctors and my doctor told me how he proposed to his wife and it was so sweet. He said he was stressed from finals and he had like a dream that his wife died and he dreamed of everything he couldn’t do with her. So when he woke up it was like 2 in the morning and he ran to his room to get the ring he had. He had it for two whole like years but ran to her dorm and begged her to say yes because he couldn’t wait. Could you write a fic of kuroo doing that with his boyfriend?

JUMP THEN FALL — k. tetsuro x m!reader

sypnosis: kuroo has always known that he wanted to marry you, and he's always said that he'll do it when he knows it's right. what's more perfect than asking after he had a dream about you dying?

warnings: mentions of death (nothing too graphic but still), kuroo being a fucking loser dork but i adore him so it's fine <3, fluff, happy ending!, angst if you squint really really hard, kuroo and reader are in their last year of college in this one, but i'm not in college yet so idfk how it works but i'll pretend i do!! use of the petnames 'babe' and 'baby'

notes: okay i'm so so sorry this took so long, i had a really bad depressive episode, i hope you like it, this request is really cute and i had a lot of fun writing it :D and two, that is so nice of you to say omg :( of course i followed you back, you always send me requests, you interact with my stuff a lot and you're just really nice so thank you for that <3

Kuroo has always wanted to marry you, it's the one thing he's been sure of in his entire life.

When you bring up marriage to him, however, he just tells you to "be patient" and that he'll "do it when he knows it's right" which constantly keeps you on your toes in case your dork of a boyfriend decides that the "right time" is during one of your lectures or at any inappropriate time really.

It kept Kuroo on his toes too, because what you don't know is that in the far-right corner of his sock drawer holds a small velvet box with a beautiful band inside of it. Every day he can feel his hand graze over the box, thinking to himself, maybe now is the right time.

But then he shakes his head, and decides it isn't.

And besides, as much as Kuroo loves you, he has finals to worry about. And they're really kicking his ass.

Although most people would peg Kuroo as the focused studious type (which he tried so desperately to be), the truth was that he tried so hard to procrastinate as much as possible. However, was it really procrastination if he needs the sleep?

When it was to avoid studying for finals, yes it was.

"Kuroo, sleeping to avoid studying for finals is not something you should do," your voice rippled out through the speaker of his phone, "especially if it's every single time you have them."

"Babe, you are the one who is constantly nagging me to sleep more," he rebutted, that stupid cocky tone he always had lingering in the back of his throat ever present, "I'm finally listening to you, I think you should take that as a win."

"Kuroo," your voice cracked again through that shoddy android speaker again, a certain firmness to it this time, "please promise me that you'll study, you're gonna hate yourself if you don't."

"Baby, I promise you I will, you know my word to you is good," he replied, you could hear that fucking cocky grin etching itself onto his face, "right after my little nap. I love you; I'll talk to you soon."

After you too bid your goodbyes, Kuroo made himself as comfortable on that dorm room mattress as he could, until his eyes got heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.

Kuroo could have sworn it was real.

The chase, your blood curdling scream, the way his stomach dropped to the soles of his feet when he realized he was too late.

It wasn't until he shot up in bed with that same nauseous feeling sitting in his chest as his breath came out panicked and labored had he realized it was nothing but a fucked-up dream.

Kuroo had never been so happy to wake up.

Slowly, but surely, he had calmed himself down. His breath returning to normal as the nauseous feeling in his chest disappeared, what didn't disappear, however, was that he didn't want to live life without you. He didn't want to graduate without you beside him, he didn't want to start a company without you there cheering him on along the way, and he sure as hell didn't want to imagine having a family with anyone else that wasn't you. Life was too short for hesitation, it was too short for his hesitation.

He quickly rushed out of bed, pulling an old hoodie over his torso, slipping on his shoes, and rifling through his drawer to grab that velvet box that had been sitting there for two years, begging to be let free.

Luckily for him, your dorm wasn't far from his. He hadn't even bothered to check the time on his phone, where the light flashed a large: 2:03 A.M. at him, he didn't care if his frantic speed walking down the hallway woke up everyone on that floor, he was only worried about getting to you.

When he got to your dorm, he rapped his fist against the door so hard he could've sworn that his knuckles would crack open. The door opened to a very annoyed you, but he didn't care if he interrupted your sleep, or your studying, he was just so elated to see you in front of him.

"Kuroo, what the hell?" you seethed, "It's two in the morning, what on earth —"

You were quickly cut off by Kuroo dropping to one knee in the doorway of your dorm room, pulling out that velvet box in all its glory, revealing that beautiful band you had mentioned liking to him once, you couldn't control the way your mouth slightly dropped in confusion, a wave of emotions hitting you like a tsunami.

"(Y/n), please, just listen to me," he blurted out in an almost pleading tone, "I've always wanted to wait until the right moment to ask you this, but recently, I've realized that the right moment was in front of me the entire time."

You tried to get a word in, but Kuroo's word vomit was faster.

"(Y/n), I've realized there is so much I want to do with you, so much that I can't do without you," he said, you swore you could see the tears well in the corner of his eyes, "everything from this point forward is useless if I can't do it with you by my side, so I'm begging you, even though it's two a.m. and we're both in our pajamas with messy hair and dark circles under our eyes, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"

It was your turn to be stunned, you stared down at your boyf — fiancée, in front of you with stained sweatpants and an old Nekoma sweatshirt barely big enough to cover his torso asking you to marry him at two in the morning.

You stayed quiet for so long, it scared Kuroo. Maybe this wasn't the right time, you two were still in college, this was all so sudden, so impulsive, he should have waited, he should have —

All these thoughts were expelled from his head as he felt your body weight push against his, squeezing him so tight in an embrace that he could barely breath.

"Yes," you whispered against the side of his neck, he could feel the tears from your eyes splashing there as well, "oh my god Kuroo, yes, a million times over."

He smiled softly at you, resting his own head against your shoulder as you held him in your arms. If this is what the rest of his life looked like, then god was he excited for it.

[cactus-cuddler]

Chapter 4: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫?

Series' masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Word count: 2 k

Summary: finally your date with Bucky!

Warnings: no one I think

Tag list: @robynanthonystark @mcira @sofiaavarga13 @julvrs

(if you want to be added write to me)

ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇᴅ <3

It's Saturday, the day of your date with Bucky. The night before, after he brought you home, you didn't sleep a wink. Thoughts about how to dress and what you will do kept filling your mind. Now it's early in the morning, and you're drinking a cup of coffee to wake you up. You need some female help, so you call Megan to assist you; you haven't dated anyone in too long, and you want to be perfect for him.

Megan barges into your house with her bag full of makeup, ready to give you advice on men, and you can't help but feel grateful. She searches your entire closet, looking for a cute dress, but the only one she thinks is decent is a short, fitted dress. No, you wouldn't wear that dress. Megan looks at you in disbelief; she thinks you look hot dressed like that, but that's not what you want.

"He sees me dressed provocatively every day. For once, I want him to see me simply as I am," you confess with a shy smile. The fear that he approached you just for your body scares you. Megan understands and recommends a simple dress with a delicate elegance. You find it perfect. Your body isn't on display too much, but it still shows off how gorgeous you are. That dress takes attention away from your gorgeous body and highlights your beautiful face. Bucky will appreciate it without a doubt. Especially because he loves your face, your smile, and how your eyes shine when you see him. He would like your face to always be focused on him.

She helps you put on your makeup and fix your hair, then leaves you alone, telling you she has an important and urgent commitment.

“If things go wrong, call me and I'll bring you your favorite ice cream, and we'll watch one of those super romantic movies, so romantic they make you throw up rainbows, and we'll think of some plan to make him regret it. Is that okay?" You giggle at her proposal and, after thanking her, you give her a warm hug before letting her go. Even though you've known each other for less than a year, she's the kind of person you've always needed. When your doorbell rings, you are anxious and almost on the verge of pretending to be dead. 'If the date goes badly, how could I look at his face again? ' you think as you approach the door.

Bucky didn't sleep a wink thinking about your date either. He's afraid that as you get to know him better, you'll understand there's a monster inside him. But seeing how happy you were when he asked you on a date, he certainly couldn't disappoint you. He would never forgive himself. As he approached your door, he was almost unsure whether to knock or not and was almost on the verge of walking away and disappearing forever. He hasn't had a date in years! He takes courage and rings your doorbell, and when he sees you in that dress, he is transfixed by your beauty. Seeing you in a tight uniform every day can't compare to seeing you dressed like that. He's not bad either; for the occasion, he dressed elegantly just for you. He has elegant trousers tightened with a black belt and a narrow white shirt. It's not cold enough to put his jacket on, and he doesn't like ties, at least not anymore. You hold your breath seeing him look so cool, and you almost feel guilty for admiring so much beauty all at once. You spend a good minute looking at each other, and Bucky breaks the silence.

"You're beautiful," he says in a small, hoarse, and sensual voice, handing you a red rose.

"You too," you reply awkwardly. He bows to you and asks for your hand. You take it, giggling.

You discover that he didn't organize anything in particular; he just wanted to spend time in your company without your clients hovering around you. Going to a bar was out of the question, but you discover there's a festival just a few meters from your house. You walk there, and your hands touch but you don't hold them. You're too embarrassed to do it. As you walk, you talk calmly and laugh together. Being with him fills your stomach with butterflies and makes you feel like a little girl. He seems so interested in you and does everything to make you laugh so he can see your beautiful lips curl up.

Before arriving at the festival, you make a few intermediate stops. First, at a booth where they take Polaroid photos so you can have a memory. You take three photos: one funny, one cute, and one "serious." Only he looks serious; you burst into a loud laugh.

“Look how cute you are in this photo!" he tells you, pointing his finger at one of your photos together, and you blush: "It's not fair! You're beautiful in all of them," you complain, and he chuckles. "It's the charm of mystery," he replies, and you nod in agreement.

Afterwards, you stop at a supermarket. Eating at the festival was out of the question; other things besides cotton candy cost too much, so you decide to buy some sandwiches to eat during the remaining journey.

“I consider myself a gallant man, but spending half my salary to make you eat rubbish, I'll save it to give you a nice gift in the future," he tells you, biting into his sandwich. "Then these are better!" he exclaims. It seems like he's never eaten anything better in his life.

"I could have offered,"

"I wouldn't let you; I invited you, so it's on me,"

"What if I had invited you?"

"I would offer anyway,"

"Because you're a man?"

"No, because you forgot your bag at home." Only now do you realize that you didn't bring your bag with you; you spent half an hour choosing the perfect one and then forgot it! As soon as he realizes that you've just noticed, he bursts into loud laughter, and you punch his metal arm to make him stop.

Your lips get dirty with sauce, and he wipes it off with the pad of his thumb, then licks it off his finger.

“Good,” he whispers, and you blush. 'We just indirectly kissed,' you think, feeling your cheeks on fire, and you stop composing any meaningful sentences.

“Did I mention I love it when you react like that?” he asks in a whisper, and a similar memory lights up in your mind.

"How?" you ask, still in a trance.

"When, after a gesture from me, you stop thinking and moving, you stay with your beautiful mouth open in a small and adorable 'o' and look at me as... as if I were someone who deserves your attention," he replies, and you are surprised by his observation skills. You blush and take his hand. He looks at you surprised and smiles at your gesture, holding your hand tightly as you walk, swinging your arms together like two children.

Once you arrive, Bucky immediately offers you cotton candy. There are countless colored lights and many rides full of children and adults. Everywhere you turn, there are groups of people talking and paying no attention to you. There's 80s music playing very loudly, so you have to scream to hear each other. You notice that Bucky doesn't feel comfortable with all these people, so you squeeze his hand tighter and look him straight in the eyes to spread courage. Together, you look at the rides, searching for one to have fun together. Some are scary to you, some are scary to Bucky, but he wouldn't admit it until you both decide to ride the Ferris wheel. Seeing the sunset from above would be magical. You line up, and when it's your turn, a man stops you.

“You…” he begins, pointing at Bucky. You don't understand what he might want from him, so you cling to his arm to comfort him. Bucky is agitated. His look doesn't show it, but he is absolutely agitated.

"You are the Winter Soldier!" the man exclaims, and Bucky's fears all come out. The man looks at him fearfully, and you don't understand what he means. The Winter Soldier is just an urban legend to you; how can anyone believe he exists? You also don't think Bucky is capable of killing. Bucky looks at you and notices your confusion as rumors that the Winter Soldier is right there spread among those present.

"Y/N, I have to go. Sorry," Bucky tells you. Breaking away from your hold, he walks away and leaves you there, alone and confused. Is the man you love really the legendary Winter Soldier?

Once you get home, you fall into bed. You're sad; everything was going so well with Bucky before he was forced to leave. You can't believe he's a monster. You don't want to believe it. He is a good man; inside, you know he is sweet and needs someone to stay by his side and not let him get hurt. However, you start to connect all the pieces. Is this why he is so mysterious? You need to talk to him, but you don't know how. You've never exchanged phone numbers and have never seen him with a cell phone, so it never occurred to you to ask him. All you have to do is wait for Monday, when you go back to work.

You hear the doorbell ring, and as soon as you see Megan with two jars of ice cream and a bag containing some DVDs with her favorite films, you can't help but hug her. You told her that Bucky had to leave without telling her why, and she assumed he was just an asshole.

"You don't know much about the Winter Soldier, do you? And I'm sure the others don't know more than you either," she tells you, and you nod.

Megan tells you what HYDRA did to Bucky and how they manipulated his mind to make him a ruthless killer. You listen to her while eating large spoonfuls of your ice cream. She tells you that there is a lot of information online about the "Winter Soldier," and she, being very curious, read all the articles she found and discovered his tragic story. 'If all this information is public knowledge, why hasn't anyone defended Bucky?' you think. You wish Bucky had told you, but you recognize that it really is a huge burden. A burden too great for one person alone.

“I have to go see him,” you tell Megan, standing up mid-movie.

"Don't be reckless; how do you think you'll find him? You don't have a number or a home address," your friend scolds you, but you're not going to give up so easily. You grab your phone and call your employer. Bucky works there; he must have definitely given some of his data to that man. Even though dinner time has passed a few hours ago, he replies to you.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give you the data you ask for; it would be a violation of privacy," and here you put your plan into action.

"It's urgent! I'm pregnant with him, and I need to tell him right away! I can't wait until Monday, please." Megan looks at you and giggles as you send her a wink.

"Oh God, congratulations! If you put it on this level..." you knew that your employer could not let these things slide, and in order not to stop the love of two young people, he would be willing to break some small privacy law. You write down Bucky's number and home address in a notebook, and before hanging up the call, you thank your employer from the bottom of your heart.

“Now you really have to get knocked up,” Megan teases as you put your cardigan on over your pajamas. No time to change!

"Stay as long as you want; make yourself at home," you reply and close the door behind you.

Thanks for reading! If there is something you want to tell me about it feel free to tell me. I would also like what you think and how you would like it to continue <3

I remember that if you want to be added to the tag list, just write to me or a comment here or in messages (it's also good as an excuse to talk, I love meeting new people knowing that we have common interests!♡)

I think the next chapter will be the last, I can't tell you now if I will make an epilogue or not but I want to write a one-shot where Sam forces Bucky to bring you flowers. Tell me if you would be interested!

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[darlingmbappe]

The Loneliest [2] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Epilogue]

Summary: The transition period after calling off your engagement has broken both you and Kylian. He needs to have you back, but you can’t handle having your heart broken again.

Warnings: pure angst, heartbroken reader, heartbroken Kylian, cussing, lots of crying. I switched perspectives between the reader and Kylian. — English is not my first language —

Kylian had racked up quite a large amount late fees the following month after your breakup. He never used to have issues going to sleep at night or waking up to go to training before this, but he just let himself scroll through his camera roll for hours on end.

He would emerge himself in that reality, smiling, giggling whenever your digital image did something goofy. He remembered which outfits he helped you pick out, fixating his thoughts on the ‘K’ necklace that he gave you shining around your neck in every frame. Then, due to the fault of a notification or a car alarm going off, he would snap back into the reality of his new life.

These are just memories now. He wouldn’t be able to take your picture again, hear your grainy morning voice, make your coffee so perfectly that you’d hum in gratitude.

Achraf knew about the breakup, but Kylian asked him to keep it hush since he didn’t feel like talking about it most of the time. Some nights, though, he finds himself on the phone with his mother without thinking about the fact that it’s past 2 o’clock in the morning. She (of course) picks up every time, being there for her little boy with a broken heart, her own heart breaking with the thought of you not coming around anymore.

Today, he made it to training just on time, barely smiling at the PSG camera crew that follows them around. Usually if somethings bothering him, football is his medicine. He goes out, distracts himself by making goals and perfect tackles, but it wasn’t until you were gone that he realized he needed you there to bring it all together. He hated how codependent he had become, sometimes subconsciously wishing he’d never met you at all. Maybe then his heart wouldn’t feel like it was being ripped out piece by piece.

“Okay, seriously?” Glatier grunted, blowing the whistle after Kylian had missed yet another easy goal. “Kylian!” He called over. Kylian cussed under his breath and jogged over to the frustrated coach, his teammates just as frustrated with him for his performance recently. “What the hell is going on with you? Where’s your head at?!”

Kylian looked at his feet, hands resting on his hips. “Sorry, coach.”

“No, not ‘sorry’, Kylian. You’ve been somewhere else for weeks. I need you to explain yourself before we start benching you.”

Kylian bit his cheek, still focused on the pitch under his feet, begging his body to suck the lingering tears back in. He looked up at his awaiting coach, nodding. “There’s no excuse, coach. I’m right here, I’ll do better.”

Glatier looks at him apprehensively, expecting to hear how the pass wasn’t placed right or some other bullshit that Kylian used to blame his shortcomings on, but notes that something is definitely off with the star player. “Alright, then.” He says, keeping eye contact, blowing the whistle twice, sending everyone to do a different drill.

Kylian sniffles as he runs back toward his team, Hakimi pats him on the back upon seeing his glossy eyes.

You had been a mess yourself, occupying yourself with your own job. Coworkers started calling you a hard ass once you decided to take charge of the group meetings, having to have control of something ever since your love life vanished. They were also oblivious to the fact of you and Kylians breakup, feeling as if the news was better off left to his PR team.

You’d settled nicely into the hotel life, enjoying complimentary breakfasts and free valet parking, but finally found a move-in ready apartment close to the office. It’d been a nightmare having your entire life packed into your car, taking up every ounce of room you had in there. There were times you convinced yourself that you were fine, but realized it was just a lie every night when you popped a sleeping pill and craved looking into Kylians eyes. You resorted back to his Instagram so often, clicking the same post every time.

The night you left, Kylian posted something for your birthday. At first, you ignored the notification, deleting the app altogether. That lasted about an hour. You redownloaded it once your curiosity took control of your body, having to know what the hell your newly-ex fiancé tagged you in. You assumed at some point he’d take it down, but it’s been thirty four days and it’s still the last thing on his feed.

You laid in the neatly made hotel bed, your fingers doing their own thing, rereading his caption until you heard your heart crack — like it did every time you found yourself here.

@k.mbappe: To the love of my life; you’re the best things that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I can’t even believe how lucky I got. Getting to know you and getting to love you was the biggest privilege of my whole life. I hope this year gives you everything you need. I will love you always. — Ky.

You think back to the night that photo was taken a lot. It was at Neymar’s New Years Eve party, a few months before he proposed. Kylians hand was permanently attached to your waist. He looked at you every time something funny was said, wanting to laugh with you. He bragged about your accomplishments to everyone there — as if anyone in the room wasn’t more impressive than you, seeing models and athletes around every corner. At some point, you’d lost him and the clock was ticking down, five minutes until midnight. As you turned down a hallway, you heard his voice coming from one of the rooms.

“She’s the one.” Kylian stated, a giggle following right after. You never meant to eavesdrop on him but now you had to — back pressed against the wall as you tipped your ear closer to the open door.

“Man, she’s awesome.” Neymar’s voice responded.

“I know. I can’t ever stop smiling.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s creepy.” They both laugh, you bit your lip to keep yourself from squealing. Neymar continues. “You deserve someone great like her.”

Kylian pauses, you wait for him to say something. “What if I fuck it up?”

You feel your heart tug at his insecurity, but stop yourself from running in there and kissing him until the silly thought leaves his head. “You won’t. I can tell that she loves you a lot. Just, show her how you feel about her every day and you can’t fuck it up.”

The lull in the conversation gives you time to skip into the room. They both look at you and smile, Kylians eyes shining with love as you make your way to sit on his lap by the window.

“There you are.” You kiss his crinkled cheek. “Been looking for you. It’s almost midnight.”

He hums and pulls you closer to him.

“Aww!” Neymar teases in an exaggerated tone, standing from his place and whips out his phone, snapping a candid picture of the two of you. “What a cute couple.”

You quickly closed the app, throwing your phone far away from you on the bed.

“Fuck that.” You cried, stuffing your face in the mattress to collect your tears. You were so angry at him, but you wanted to talk to him. Slap him. Kiss him. Make him regret everything.

Your feelings have never been so crossed in your life. Of course you knew ending your relationship would be hard, but not debilitating. You didn’t expect to have to find new ways to not think about Kylian. How are you going to do this forever? Will this crippling coldness ever leave you alone? The signs all point to Kylian, but you don’t even know if he’ll be up to talking.

Blocking his number was an easy decision. While you were confident that you made the right move at the time, it doesn’t feel that way anymore. You reached back and grabbed your phone, settling down and wiping any remaining tears from your face.

The amount of times you’ve unblocked Kylian probably has broken some sort of record. You’ve been to really low places in the past few weeks, but the fake it ‘till you make it mantra somehow found it’s way into your system, hearing it buzzing in your ears like an annoying fruit fly.

Clicking the unblock button was simple. Trying to find something to say was beyond difficult.

You typed and backspaced and typed and backspaced until you were ripping your hair out. It was either too weird or too forward, but all of it was too scary.

Almost half an hour had passed, still trying to manage some sort of communication with him. Everything felt wrong, maybe today wasn’t the day. Just as you were about to reblock him, your phone buzzed.

Kylian: hello?

Shit. Of course he decided to text you right when you unblock him.

While you were freaking out about this turn of events, Kylian was holding his breath. When he saw the three dots appearing and disappearing on his phone screen over and over again, he felt like he struck gold. He just needed some way back into your life. And although small, this was an opportunity he couldn’t ditch out on.

You stared at the message, trying to take deep breaths. You should be chill. You’d texted Kylian a gazillion times in your life, but considering the circumstances, panic seemed fitting.

“Okay, (Y/N). Pull it together.” You mumbled to yourself, clearing your throat.

(Y/N): hi

You sent the message quick with no time to think twice. You facepalmed, now overthinking those two little letters. You waited impatiently for his reply. He was taking too long for your liking, but the time displayed at the top of your screen hadn’t moved. Not even a minute passed before he said something back.

Kylian: so you decided to unblock me?

Kylian: how are you?

He didn’t give you a chance to really respond to his first question, so it was easy to ignore it. But the second question had much more weight behind it.

How are you? Really?

You were tempted to type back ‘like my soul was sucked out and repeatedly backed over by a semi truck full of loaded diapers’, but that seemed like a bit much.

(Y/N): I’ve definitely been better.

You waited again, wondering if you should ask him how he’s doing, too. You saw the typing bubbles, but they disappeared. Once, twice, three times until he finally messaged back.

Kylian: did you want to talk?

You sighed, throwing your head back and staring at the ceiling. Fuck. Why did he have to ask that? Of course you wanted to talk — but this seems like the beginning of a very slippery slope. Going back to him was exactly what you wanted. You wanted to take him back and hug him and kiss his stupidly plump lips until you couldn’t anymore.

At the same time, you’re so vulnerable right now. You knew that taking him back this quickly would definitely cause an issue; whether it just be second guessing yourself or realizing you were wrong, and leaving him twice was something your heart absolutely could not handle.

Kylian: im sorry if that was too forward

You didn’t realize how long you were lost in thought for. You looked down at the message taunting you in your lap, sighing.

You: no, it’s fine.

You: when are you free?

You didn’t know it, but Kylian, Hakimi, and Ramos all jumped up and cheered when you sent that message. They shook his shoulders around in excitement, all too invested in the young couples relationship.

“Vamos!” Screamed Ramos, hugging the group.

“Okay, okay, shut up!” Kylians smile wrinkled his eyes shut for the first time in forever, sitting back down on the training bench.

Ramos happened to walked by when Kylian was crying to Hakimi, which Kylian was super embarrassed about, but Ramos was a genuinely good friend of the two of you, so now he felt personally affected by this breakup.

“Come on, quickly. What do I say?”

“That you are free tonight. Dios mío.” Ramos tusked like it was the most obvious thing in the world… and it was.

Kylian: tonight after training?

Kylian: I can pick you up, we can go get some dinner?

(Y/N): how about I just meet you at the training center?

There was no way you’d allow for this to be a date. If you let him wine and dine you, your heart would melt into a puddle that spelled out his name.

Kylian: perfect, cant wait

Kylian: I’ll see you later

You smiled down at your phone, putting a thumbs up to his last message and shut it off. Allowing your smile to finally spread across you face, you breathed out a giant huff that weighed down your lungs.

The happiness passed quickly, your mind remembering the way he was before. Aloof, distracted, snappy… You we’re still holding onto the old Kylian. The one that took you on spontaneous picnics, the one who would pull over on the side of the highway on his way home and hand-pick you a bouquet because the wildflowers looked pretty, the one that never forgot to kiss you goodnight, even if he was already asleep when you crawled in next to him.

The expectations for tonight were all over the place. Your mind raced with the possibilities of how it would end. Would you lower you walls for him again? Are you even capable of that? He hurt you down to your core, his actions broke you down into an insecure shell of yourself.

The end of the day came, and by now, the word had spread to the rest of the team about the breakup. Glatier patted Kylian on the back in sympathy, giving him a wise coach speach about life and love — one that didn’t really help Kylian. It was actually rather confusing. Nonetheless, he thanked his elder, mentally noting it’s best if he just sticks to coaching football.

Neymar was shaken by the news, having taken a liking to you early on in your relationship with Kylian. When he asked Kylian what was bothering him so much lately, he breathed out a heavy, “nooo!”. Comforting his teammate felt nostalgic for them both because their own relationship went through a sort of breakup at one point.

Kylian felt the end of the day inching closer and closer. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he saw you. It was important for him that he doesn’t say anything to scare you away. He wants you to see that he’s sorry and that he’s ready to prove it to you. He wants to make you laugh, make you remember that he is capable of making you happy again.

Kylian smelled better right now than he ever did after practice. He scrubbed like a maniac, fixing his hair with precision, shaving and applying after shave. He finished off with some cologne that Verratti suggested, a cool jacket that Kimpembe let him borrow. He drew the line when Sergio came for his eyebrows with tweezers, doing a nervous final check in the full length mirror. Breathing deep, he opens up his messages.

Kylian: im almost done :)

Kylian: let me know when ur here

He watched the screen, waiting for you to respond with anything. The three dots popped up again, halting his breathing when your message appeared.

(Y/N): I’m here. Come meet me by the maintenance entrance.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was rushing out of the locker room with anticipation taking over his veins, his knuckles turning white against the material of his duffle bag. He felt like he was going to throw up from nerves, but the good kind of nerves — the kind he has before an important match.

Where you were meeting him was his little hidden area. The maintenance crew got an upgraded break room with a patio, so no one ever came out this way, leaving the picnic tables open for when he needed a sneaky break. He brought you out here multiple times when you came and visited, always insisting on making out before he would go back inside.

This door always got stuck. He remembers having to shoulder it every time. He prepared himself, stepping back before lunging his body forward. Next thing he knows, he’s landed on the cold cement, letting out a loud “oof” when he went down.

“Oh my god!” He heard your sweet voice from a distance, looking up and seeing you, sideways from his position. The wind was already knocked out of him, but wow, watching you running in his direction took his breath way. “Are you okay?”

He got himself up when you approached him, he brushed himself off cooly. “When the hell did they oil that door?” Kylian points.

You stare at him before you let a small laugh bubble out, immediately getting Kylian to join in. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed by his less than cool entrance, but mentally checks off the make her laugh box in his head.

Damn, he looks good, you thought to yourself. You kept it at bay, but you noticed how he cleaned up extra nice, tugging at your heartstrings. You can’t lie, you also spent way too long on your appearance.

“Hello,” he smiles, raking his eyes adoringly over your frame. He didn’t even notice himself inching closer to you, but you did. It made you hot under the collar just being around him again. You’d been away from him longer than a month before, but this was hard.

You gulp. “Hi.”

He set his duffle bag down on the picnic table. You had his full attention, every word he’s wanted to say to you just on the tip of his tongue. You made your way over to the bench and slowly sat down, him following suit, sitting a little closer than you wanted him to.

You scooted away slightly. “Let’s talk.” You say. He nods, turning his body toward you. “I have to be at work soon so I can’t stay long.”

His leg bounces. “Can I start?”

“Okay.”

His gaze locked on your delicate hands, wanting nothing more then to hold them tightly. He breathed deep, his nerves felt electric in his veins. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. I fucked up and realized it too late. I should have noticed, but I didn’t. And I’m so sorry for that. For everything.” His words were slow and gentle, his eyes not knowing where to look as they bounced from your eyes to you hands to your lips, then back to your eyes again. “I’m miserable without you. I miss you. I miss you so fucking much, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “I miss you too, Kylian. Believe me, this hasn’t been easy for me, either. But, I’m not here to get back together with you. I can’t let myself do that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” You really wished you planned this talk out better because right now, you were letting your emotions run on autopilot. Yet, you kept your logical side steady on the breaks in case your heart decided it needed his comfort more than it needed peace. “Because, Kylian. I just can’t.”

You felt the anger inside of you rising to the surface. You stood up and began pacing. Kylian stood too, but his feet were frozen in place.

“You know, I didn’t even know you still loved me until I was leaving?” You stated, facing his ashamed demeanor. He opened his mouth to respond but you didn’t let him. “You made me feel like shit. For months. You drove this… this weird insecurity in me that was never there before. I couldn’t even talk to you about it because you’d just spin it on me. Do you know how shitty that feels?”

His head hung low, guilt overriding his every sense. For whatever reason, he had high expectations for how this was going to go, and it’s already not at all how he thought. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry. You never deserved that.”

“You’re fucking right, I didnt.” You snapped, brows knit tightly in anger. “Why did you change? What happened? What did I do to you that made you so angry at me?”

Kylian opened and closed his mouth, stuttering. “I…” Seeing the tears gloss your eyes brought his own forward, but he bit them back. “… I don’t know. Nothing, you did nothing wrong.”

You stared at him, sighing. You ran a hand over your cheeks once you felt some stray tears run down your face. Nodding, you sat back down, Kylian cautiously joined you further down the bench. His elbows were on his knees, eyes facing the pavement. Silence used to be comfortable with Kylian. You two could sit together for hours and not say a word, and it would feel so natural. Now, the air was thick with tension, every depressing emotion running full speed inside your loud mind.

“You remember that benefit dinner we went to in November? The one held by that super rich Fortune 500 guy?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. “That week was when I started doubting if we were even good together anymore. You hadn’t payed attention to me, touched me, listened to me in weeks. I thought it was me. That I was somehow fucking up everything we had.” Kylian listened through the sound of his pounding heart, not daring to look up. He could hear in your voice how deeply upset you were, he couldn’t take the look on your face. “I tried talking to you about it that morning. I was going to ask if you wanted to take a break… have some time to ourselves. Instead, you just turned it into a fight about me leaving the dishwasher open, or some shit like that. I ended up apologizing to you.” You chuckled, but it really wasn’t funny.

Kylian remembered, having been stressed about his difficult new physical therapy sessions. He took out his frustrations on you unfairly, but he didn’t realize that he was doing that until it was too late.

You continued. “I dressed up so nice for you that night. I wore that gorgeous blue dress you got for me, heels that absolutely killed my feet, I got my hair and makeup done by real professionals… I thought maybe I could at least get you to want me again. But, all night long, you pretty much ignored me. You only smiled at me when other people were around and you didn’t want to look like a dick. I loved it, though. It felt like the old days, when you would actually smile when I was around.”

His lip quivered, still not being able to lift his head toward you. You wanted to keep going, but knew what you were going to say next was going to hurt him and it was never about getting even. You didn’t want to put him through what he made you feel. Reluctantly, you knew you had to tell him. You had to do it for you.

“That whole night, you kind of ignored me. I had the thought that you wouldn’t even notice if I disappeared… so I did. I was on the balcony for like, an hour. All by myself. Watching you from the outside to see if you started looking for me, and you never did.” You paused to take a breath, fiddling with your thumbs. “I didn’t think I would ever tell you this, but what do I have to lose, right?” He looked up, eyes red. You looked away. “It wasn’t on purpose, but… that night, Erling Haaland and I had a great time.” You locked eyes with him when he shifted, his whole demeanor changing from apologetic to full protection mode.

“What? What do you mean?” He attempted to keep his voice clear of obvious anger, but you knew him too well.

“No, no. Not like that.” You clarified. “He came out there for a breather and saw me. I don’t think he knew who I was or that we were together—”

“Bullshit.” He mumbled, but you ignored him.

“We just laughed and talked about the last season. Nothing happened, I wouldn’t do that to you.” You weren’t going to mention how he asked for your number at the end of the night because that would send him into a spiral. “Look, I’m not telling you this to be cruel, or anything, but it’s just an example of how alone I felt… that I would spend an entire night talking with Erling Haaland of all people. He payed more attention to me that night than you did for months. It made me remember how much fun we used to have. It made me realize that you might not be that person for me anymore.” Your voice wobbled and Kylian squeezed his eyes shut, forcing his tears back in with a sharp and deep breath.

He couldn’t believe you never told him about this, but reminded himself that he wouldn’t let you. He was too cold, too defensive.

“I promise you, (Y/N) — even if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll get you back.” He swore through his wavering voice, still attempting to hold back his cries. You saw his twitching face, surfacing your own emotions.

You couldnt hold it back anymore, placing your face in your palms, letting the sobs go freely. “You’re a stupid fucking dickhead, Mbappé.” It was vulgar, but it’s just what shot out of your mouth.

Kylian knew he deserved that and more, just nodding at the new nickname, beginning to let himself cry as well. “I’m gonna change. If you let me show you, I’ll never stop proving to you how much I love you.” He grabbed your hand, tightly grasping it and kissing your knuckles.

“I think…” you sniffle, watching Kylian as he squeezed your hand in his, resting it on his face. “I think I need more time, Kylian.”

Immediately he nods, scooting closer to you. “We have time, baby. I’ll wait for you to be ready. I don’t care how long it takes.”

You and Kylian continue to cry, together. This kind of vulnerability is what you’ve been craving from him, this is the kind you had before.

“Kylian, I can’t handle having my heart broken again.” You choke. He holds you close now, forehead resting on the side of your head.

“I won’t ever be that person again.” He promised, sniffling. “I’ve never hurt this badly before. I’m not putting either of us through this torture again.”

You nod, wiping your tears and trying to calm down a little before standing up, leaving Kylian sitting alone on the bench.

“If I’m even going to entertain the idea of getting back together… we’re starting over completely. Right from the start.” You point, feeling yourself stop crying and using your sleeve to get rid of any proof that you were an absolute trainwreck.

He nods, standing up. “Okay. I can do that.” It looks like a burst of good energy just shot it’s way into his body, but the nervous demeanor stood above it, cautiously watching your every move.

“This doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. I need to know it’s the right decision. It’s too hard.”

“Of course. I’ll do anything.” You can tell Kylian is holding back from hugging you by the way his feet tap toward you, his body swaying in your direction.

You look him over, breathing in the crisp air. “Okay.” You check your watch, noticing you’ll be late if you don’t leave in the next five minutes. “I have to go now.” You say, nodding an awkward goodbye to Kylian; hugging felt like it would be weird… a handshake even weirder.

“Wait.” He stops you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and quickly pulling it back. “Am I allowed to ask you on a date now?”

You chuckle, a real one this time. “Um. Let’s wait a couple of weeks. I need some more time to process all of this. Besides, I’m moving on Friday so I’ll be pretty busy unpacking, so…”

He’s taken aback, quirking an eyebrow and trying to not looked too freaked out. “Wait… moving? Where?”

“Some place I found. It’s fine… close to the office.” You honestly didn’t love it, but it was cute. It had character. “The hotel life was getting too expensive.”

“Let me pay for that–”

“No. Non-couples don’t do that.” You say, checking the time again, walking backwards toward you car. “Look, I really have to go. Wait for me to text you, alright?”

He nods, watching your figure disappear in the dark parking lot. “I will.”

He didn’t take his eyes off your car until it was out of his sight, turning back the way he came in.

The time has come for him to cheer, celebrate, tell all of his friends… but he won’t. He might’ve managed his way back into your life, but he’s nowhere near out of the woods yet. Everyone knows how embarrassing early celebrations are, especially when they they miss the goal in the end. He’s not making that mistake. He’s just grateful for the new opportunity to prove to you that it’ll be worth it… that he’s worth it. You’ll be treated better than ever… as soon as you’re comfortable with him again.

So, no celebration for Kylian Mbappé… not counting the giddy grin and small fist pump he did when he was alone in his car.

He couldn’t stop himself. He really couldn’t.

[sweetlittlegingy]

Did We Miss Something

☑︎Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Sweet Nothings Masterlist

☑︎ Pairing: Jake Seresin x Y/n Seresin (Mitchell)

☑︎ Word Count: 9 k

☑︎ Warnings: Infertility, IVF, Adoption, Dad!Jake, Teacher/Mom!Reader, Kindergarteners, bad foster parents, child neglect, protective Rooster, protective Jake

☑︎ A/n: Holy shit, I had the hardest time writing this. Life has not been kind lately in the school sense and health sense, but I still wanted to give you guys something. Anyone thats stayed with me and is still reading (even after this long extent) thank you and I love you!

☑︎Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The sudden weight on your chest stirs you from your slumber, and though the room is dark you make out the little figure clinging on to you. The moonlight just barely lights the room enough for you to clearly see Grayson, well as clearly as sleepy you could see. His hands are clutched to your blanket and the small movement of your hand across his back gets his attention.

“Hi, Sweetpea.” Your voice is groggy though it still causes Gray to nuzzle farther into your chest. “What’s wrong, honey?”

“Laine left me, I got cold.” The words take a moment to register, though when they do you sit up faster than you ever have. Gray is still clutched to your chest, though you tighten your hold on him at the possiblity of Laine disapearing. Your eyes adjust and flitter room, Gray shifts in your hold and holds on to you in silence, waiting. Jake still hadn’t woken up, the man could sleep through a tornado, which he had when you visited his parents last year. It wasn’t a fun experience, to say the least. Just as your arm is about to smack him and make him get up with you, you catch sight of a little ball of blonde hair peeking out from under the blanket, laying on his chest.

A sigh leaves your body as the tension in your shoulders drops and you lay back down, contemplating if you wanted to risk Laine waking up when you moved her or if you should just let the both of them sleep in the bed for the night. You pull Gray farther into your chest as he nuzzles at the soft blanket and his small hand holds onto the hand you have wrapped around him.

You realize that neither of them would be going back to the other room tonight and so, you move Gray to get him under the covers with you. He finds the sleeve of your pjs and holds it, thumb rubbing the material as he falls back to sleep. Jake arms move slightly and for a minute you worry that he’s going to squish Laine. But instead, his arms wrap around her, as he rolls onto his side to face you, they’re both still asleep, yet grasp onto each in a near death grip. The small nuzzle she does against Jake chest, just under his chin fills your heart with a kind of love you feared you would never get.

Your eyes trail down to Gray and even after he’s fallen asleep, he holds on to your shirt. You place a kiss to the crown of his head, before checking the clock. 2:30 you still had 4 hours before you had to get up and as you settle back in the bed, you make a mental note to thank Jake for insisting that you needed a King size bed.

...

It’s not a random weight that wakes you up this time, but instead a pair of giggles and Gray quietly telling Laine to stop. Your eyes peel open, Gray is still settled by your side and he gives you a tiny smile before cuddling back into you at the realization that you’re awake. Jake and Laine had shifted again through the night, and she once again rests on his chest. Though as you move, her bright blue eyes flash to you, and give you a small smile, before she goes back to tapping on Jake’s nose.

He'd move every so often and the pair would start laughing. It’s during one of their giggling fits that you see Jake’s eyes open. He gives you a quick wink, before pretending to be asleep again. A smile rests on your face as you glance at the alarm clock, you still had 10 minutes before it would go off. It’s only 6:20 and while you knew the twins were morning birds, you hadn’t realized just how early and yet cheerfully they woke up.

A loud squeal from Laine and the small jump Gray does back into your chest, pulls you from your thought. You look over in time to see Jake grabbing Laine and rolling to lay on top of her. He doesn’t put his whole weight on her, though traps her just enough that she’s stuck under him in a fit of giggles. A look of worry and teasing crosses Jake’s face as he looks at you and Grayson.

“Gray have you seen sissy?”

Gray erupts into a fit of giggles while shaking his head, as Laine tries to wiggle out but can’t manage. Jake’s eyes find your own and you’re sure that your smile matches his.

“Darlin’, have you seen Ms. Madelaine?” You laugh at his overexaggerated reaction, as his eye’s pass over her small form more than once. “I just can seem to find my little darlin’ anywhere.”

“Mr. Jake!” She finally gains Jake’s attention, though upon “realization” of where she is, he starts a massive tickle war between the two.

You laugh at the pair, the both of them are identical rays of sunshine in every sense that would cause someone to assume Jake was Laine’s father.  You roll to lay on your back, shifting to pull the blanket up closer to your chest, in hopes to enjoy the last few minutes before your alarm goes off. Your eyes close and when the small form climbs up to lay on your chest and relax with you, you instantly wrap your arms around Gray. Your hand lightly combs through his hair and the small sigh he releases brings you a type of comfort you never knew existed. Your body sinks farther into the bed as Gray’s breath evens out, your own breath slipping in time with his.

You don’t notice as Jake slips from the bed to turn off your alarm and holding onto Laine as he makes his way to the kitchen, leaving the pair of you to get a few more minutes of sleep. 

...

Jake slowly makes his way down the hallway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as Madelaine leads the way to the kitchen. Her small blonde curls bounce along the way and the excited squeal she gives when Jake asks if she wants pancakes, has his heart clenching and willing to do anything to hear that kind of joy from her every day.

Jake goes about getting the few ingredients, though the sight of Laine trying to watch but not wanting to get in the way, has him picking her up and sitting her on a part of the counter. Close enough that she could see but was also a safe distance from the stove.

“Alright little lady, Gray and CeCe are resting up, which means we have full control of the kitchen.” The smirk and raised eyebrows that Jake gives Laine, has her give him a look that’s nearly identical.

“Does that mean we can make purple pancakes?” Her eyes are hopeful, though a small flash of doubt crosses her face as if she shouldn’t have asked the question in the first place. Her chin dips slightly, though Jake is quick to tip it back up and give her a smile.

“That is exactly what it means, but we also need to make a special color for Gray.”

“Blue, he loves blue!”

Jake shakes his head with a smile at the small nod of confidence she gives him and gets to work mixing up a batch of pancake mix.

...

Laine had somehow found her way onto Jake’s hip; she was still small enough that Jake could easily hold her with one arm while cooking with the other. She had been whispering small requests to him as her head laid on his shoulder. Together they had made almost every shape, with and without chocolate chips.

The soft tune of country music floats through the kitchen as the pair drift around the room, not quite dancing together but close enough. With every sway, dip, or turn Jake did caused Laine to break out into a fit of giggles, face tucked into Jake’s neck as her small arms wrap around him.

“Jakey?” Her small voice piped up over the music.

“Yeah, Sweetheart.”

Her small face pulls away far enough that it causes Jake to stop cooking and look at her, giving her his full undivided attention. A single curl falls in front of her face, though before she can try and move it, Jake does. It causes a small smile to break out on her face before she then brushes a “fallen” strand of hair off Jake’s face as well.

“Have you ever rode a horse; like the cowboys in the song?”

The question has Jake laughing at the small error in tense, while also not expecting the question but positive that she was going to love his answer.

“I have.” He pauses as Laine bounces in excitement, eyes wide with wonder as she takes in every word he says. “I grew up on a big farm, with lots of horses and chickens and cattle, babies and mommas.”

“I wanna go, can we go?”

Jake catches himself, more than ready to tell her yes. To have his mom and dad meet them both, to see them experience everything he did and more as a child. Though the reality comes crashing in like a bucket of cold water, and he can only whisper a small maybe against the back of her head as he hugs her.

“Sissy?”

The sound of Grayson has Madelaine wiggling and slipping from Jake’s hip to nearly crash into Gray as he rounds the corner. Jake catches the sight of Laine adjusting Gray’s glasses, before muttering a quiet sorry for knocking into him.

Jake’s eye’s float up as he sees you coming to rest against the wall behind the twins, Laine grabs Gray’s hand and pulls him to the table and the pile of purple and blue pancakes.

...

The smile that Jake gives you barely reaches his eyes, as he watches the twins. Your quick to find home behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. You sway gently as your hands hold one another and you place a soft kiss against his shirt between his shoulder blades. The music drifts through the kitchen and has the twins wiggling in their seats as they eat. The morning sun shines through the kitchen window and casts them both is a glowing light that almost feels like a call from the universe.

Jake turns in your hold, ducking down to give you a kiss before you have a chance to ask why it looks like he wants to cry. The round of giggles that break out causes you and Jake to separate, to find both Laine and Gray making kissy faces at you. The pair go back to eating while Jake flips off the stove and leans back on the counter holding you.

“He’s never that expressive,” an overwhelming sigh rolls through your body as you sink farther into Jake’s hold. “not even at the school with just Laine and I.”

Jake hums against the curve of your neck, placing a gentle kiss against it. His voice is barely a whisper against your neck, though you can hear the pain coated words perfectly.

“I forgot for a minute, just before you came in.” It’s your turn to hum, a wordless way of telling him to go on. “Laine asked me if I had ever ridden a horse, and when I told her yes, oh baby, her smile was the sweetest thing I’d even seen.”

“They do have the sweetest smiles.” Your voice holds a lightness that eases the tension in Jake’s shoulders. “I told her about Mom and Dad’s place, and when she said she wanted to go, I damn near promised that we would.”

His voice catches and has you turning your head to look up at him, you place a gentle kiss on his jawline, before whispering a small I know. Neither of you needed to say how much the reality of getting to be with the twins for only the weekend rocked you to your cores. They had only been with you for a night and yet somehow it felt like they had been here forever.

Your hands trace along Jake’s arms, before looking up at the clock. You needed to go to the school prior to heading to base, just to make sure that everyone knew where they were going and to get a head count.

“Alright you two, we need to get dressed so we aren’t late.” You get small nods in reply as they both place their plates in the sink and come to stand in front of you and Jake. Your hand racks through Laine’s hair, the bundle of blonde curls a mess atop her head.

“Come on sweet girl, let’s go fix your hair before we get dressed.” Laine grabs your hand, and you give hers a small squeeze before you head to your bathroom. You glance back as you make your way to the hallway to check on Gray, though Jake’s already got him lifted up as the pair talk.

...

You had done two small buns in Laine’s hair per her request, before doing your own hair and makeup. She was entranced by you as you put on a coat of lipstick, before giving her a smile.

“You’re pretty.”

Your heart swells at her words and the childlike whisper they hold. You gently raise your hand and brush it across her cheek, before delicately booping her nose and earning you a giggle.

“I think you’re pretty.”

Your words have her shyly smiling and cause you to lift her chin, to place a small kiss on the crown of her head. Her hands twist the tulle of her pink skirt; the baby pink is a harsh contrast against the navy-blue shirt she has on. Though she had insisted on wearing it, and you couldn’t say no. Plus you were excited to see Jake’s face when he realized that the shirt, was in fact, the one that he had boughten all those weeks ago. How she had snuck hers and Gray’s shirts into her bag was beyond you, though you didn’t care to question it.

Her legs wiggle on the bathroom counter as you put away the few elastics and hairbrush before you grasp onto her waist and lift her to the ground. Her hand finds yours again, as the pair of you walk out to find Grayson and Jake. You find your way to the smaller second bathroom, where Gray sits on a stool in front of the mirror as Jake combs his hair back.

They don’t notice you for a moment as you stay outside in the hall and quietly listen to Grayson ask questions about Jake’s plane. It's when you hear Jake mention letting Gray sit in the F-18, that Madelaine makes your presence known.

“I wanna sit in it too!”

She gains both of the boy’s attention, while Gray finds you instantly and gives you a small smile. Jake eye's land on Madeline as she does a small spin and the biggest smile breaks across his lips. He helps Gray down from the stool and gives him a small wink that makes Gray giggle as he comes to your side.

Another high-pitched giggle echoes in the small bathroom as Jake lifts Laine and settles her on his hip again. He stares down at her shirt, before placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“Jakey, you don’t think I look silly? I wanted to dress up,” her hands gently flare out the tule skirt. “but had to wear my plane shirt.”

Jake’s hand comes to brush against the small bows in her hair, causing her to lean farther into him. “You look perfect, my little darlin’.”

He instantly has her perking up, while you feel a small finger poke at the side of your leg and look down to see Gray wiggling his nose before his finger motions for you to come down. You bend down as you give the small boy a smile, as he gets onto his tippy toes to lean closer to your ear.

“Could we maybe ride with Mr. Jake?” He pauses and Jake looks down at you in question, though you patiently wait for Gray to continue.

It’s when you feel his fingers start to twist in your shirt you pull away to look at him. He doesn’t lift his eyes to look at you, but you’re fairly certain you know what’s going on. You twist on the ball of your feet so Gray is standing directly in front of you before you lean in now to whisper to him.

“Are you worried about everyone crowding the planes?”

Your hand had found its way to the side of his face, and the small nod he gives you makes your heart ache. You knew that Gray had severe anxiety and would most likely be attached to you all day. You also knew how excited he was and that he was only trying to find a way that he could see the planes, but not be surrounded with excited children.

“Sweetheart,” Gray stays close to your side as you look up at Jake, who had been listening to Laine talk her little heart out. “Gray would like to know if he and Laine can ride with you to the base?” You would tell Jake about Gray being worried when he wasn’t listening and hope that your eyes are conveying enough information to Jake that he doesn’t question it.

“That what you want, bud?” Gray looks up when he hears Jake and gives him a small smile with a quiet ‘yes please.’ Laine finally slows her babbling about different sea animals, as she realizes that they would now be riding with Jake while you went and got the other kids sorted. Her smile widens immensely as she looks at Jake and gives him a small smirk, replying to Gray for him.

“That’s a great idea, Gray! That way we can keep track of Jakey and make sure that we get to see all the cool stuff, that nobody else sees.”

You stifle a laugh and look at Jake, who looks slightly stunned at the little firecracker in his arms. Gray bounces on his toes lightly, fully agreeing with his sister and no longer caring if Jake says yes.

Jake clears his throat before setting Laine on the ground, “Right you two, go get your bags.” The pair gives you a small smile before they are heading down the hall, chattering excitedly about everything they are going to see. Jake’s hand wraps around your waist and pulls you in. Your hands rest against his chest as Jake places a small kiss on your neck.

“You know she reminds be a lot of this self-assured, slightly cocky pilot I know.” Jake hums in your neck before nipping you, causing you to laugh.

“Just wait till she gets ahold of Chicken.” He pulls away from your neck looking at you with a teasing smirk. “It’s gonna be like a sneak attack, a miniature Hangman to give him hell.”

You pat his chest shaking your head at his and Bradley's never-ending antics against one another. Just last week Bradley had stolen the lunch you packed. It would have been fine, but it was a Wednesday. Meaning that Bradley had not only stolen the taco soup you made Jake, but stolen the brownies you made for his mid-week treat. Jake had been looking for the perfect way to get back at Bradley since.

“Don’t let her rip into him too much, Gray is there to be the counterweight.” You both laugh at that, they truly did even each other out. Jake leans in to kiss you, before pulling away and heading out the find the twins. The three of them congregate at the front door, as Jake double-checks that each of them has their water bottles and bags. You smile at the sight; he might have been a cocky asshole sometimes. But when he loved, he loved hard, and the sight before you was pure Seresin love and pride.

“Alright, darlin’ we will see you in a bit.”

Each of the twins yell goodbye; Laine blows you a kiss, while Gray waves, before Jake ushers them out and down the drive. They could do the smallest things, and yet still steal your heart.

...

The drive to base had been easy enough, each of the kids had gotten buckled in their booster seats without a fuss and Laine had once again requested for control of the music. Jake was not at all surprised when the same playlist that had been playing in the kitchen this morning echoed through the speakers. Letting the little girl wiggle in her seat, as she hummed along, singing a word every now and then if she knew them.

Jake had kept the music low, so he could still talk to the kids and answer any questions they might have. The Laine had asked a few questions along the way, mostly pertaining to who all would be there and if they were nice. Jake had assured her that the team would love them and that you and Jake had already told them about the twins.

Gray on the other hand had really been the chatterbox surprisingly. He had listed off facts that he knew about planes while asking for confirmation every now and then from Jake. Gray might have been on the shy side, but Jake couldn’t have been more thankful for this alone time with him. When it came to planes and anything related to the squadron, Gray lit up and his small shell became practically non-existent.

Jake slows the truck into a parking spot near the main office, while he would usually park closer to the separate building for Top Gun classes, he knew that you would be coming to the front office first. The dagger squad was supposed to be leading the tour, but you wanted to see your dad, as well as double-check with Cyclone that bringing the kids was okay.

Jake turns around in his seat after he puts the truck in park, looking over his two smiling blonde carbon copies. His sunglasses sit on the bridge of his nose and the khaki uniform would have fooled anyone into thinking that today was a normal day. That Jake Seresin was back on base, that Hangman was in his natural habitat and about to school his students in how they couldn’t fly for shit.

But the smile that rested just below the glasses was not the smirk that usually rested on Hangman’s face. No, Jake Seresin had a full-blown smile on his face and looked beyond the part of an excited father that was getting to share an important part of his life with the munchkins he loved.

“We ready?”

Laine gives Jake a strong nod, followed by an even surer ‘yup.’ While Gray gives a smaller ‘yes.’ Jake helps Laine get out of the truck as her eyes flash around the base taking in everything, quietly assessing the few people she sees walking around while staying safely next to Jake. Before Jake can help Gray down, he stops him, hands sitting on Gray’s small waist trying to gauge how he was feeling. You had texted Jake on the drive and he had quickly read the message just after parking.  

His heart ached for the small boy as your words echoed in his mind, “If he needs to, just let him cling onto your leg. He’ll ground himself but just needs support. He hasn’t had a panic attack lately, but he usually can calm down with deep breathing and eye contact. Also, try not to let Laine see if he has one, it sends her into her own spiral of worry.” 

“Bud,” His icy blue eyes find Jake’s green ones, timid and worried. “you’ve got nothing to worry about. I’ll be with you the whole time.” Gray’s eyes soften as he stares at Jake, silently assessing if he could actually trust Jake. Jake gives him a small smile, which causes Gray to return one before giving Jake a nod. Jake lifts him from the truck placing Gray at his side, before locking the truck.

Laine grabs one of Jake’s hands, while Grayson takes the other and Jake gives him a small squeeze which earns a smile. Jake’s eyes then find the small spitfire that holds his hand in a death grip, tightening her small hand every time she got excited.

“Darin’ what did we talk about on the way here?” Jake’s tone is teasing and the sneaky smile the Madelaine gives looks like pure trouble.

“That mustache man’s name is Rooster, but I get to call him Chicken.” Jake gives her a look that is silently saying ‘and?’ “and if anyone asks, 'specially Ms. CeeCee, I did not hear it from you.”

A self-assured smirk rests on Jake’s face, and he gives her a quick wink followed by a “that’s my girl.”

Her hand tightens around Jake’s and a smile breaks across her face at the words. She follows his actions with her own, a small wink is aimed back at Jake that fills him with pride, as well as a tiny bit of excitement. He couldn’t help it if the prospect of having a mini hangman around caused him to make sure that trouble ensued.

The three of them cut across the lawn, making their way inside to find the rest of the squadron. Jake knew that you wouldn’t get here until 9:30 or so, depending on how bad the traffic was. Madelaine bounces up the front steps, while Gray remains by Jake’s side and quietly looks at everything. There weren’t main people in the main build, hell the group never usually hung out in the “main” rec room, but instead made the one in the west wing their designated spot.

Jake watches as Laine jitters in excitement, stopping when they walk through the doors and trying to contain her excitement. Jake laughs at the small girl and while he wouldn’t normal do what he was about to, there wasn’t anyone around at for her to upset.

“Darlin’?”

The name instantly has her beaming at Jake, waiting for him to talk.

“You see that glass door all the way at the end of the hall?” She looks to where Jake is pointing, causing Gray to peek around from Jake’s leg to look as well. “Chicken should be down in that room, why don’t you go say hi. Gray and I will be down in just a minute.”

The words leave Jake’s mouth and without a reply she takes off down the hall, making sure not to run, even though she clearly wants to. Jake eyes watch as she gets to the door and goes in, before turning to Gray who is still holding Jake’s hand but has pulled away just a bit to look through the glass cases lining the walls.

Jake slides up behind him, before crouching down to talk to the little blue eyed blonde. Jake doesn’t say anything as he lets Gray look, seeing the way his eyes squint, before leaning up closer to glass. When Gray turns back around to look at Jake, the small boy gives him a smile before adjusting his glasses.

“It’s an F-14.” It’s not a question but a statement and has Jake leaning closer to the case to see the picture that Grayson was in fact talking about. A wide smile and laugh falls from Jake as his arms wrap around Gray to hold close, before picking him up.

“What other one’s can you see?”

A mirroring smile breaks out on Grayson’s face as Jake moves with him to another photo. Each answer has Jake’s heart filling with pride as he looks at the small boy is astonishment and wonder. Slowly they make their way around the case, Gray sits on Jake’s hip with one arm holding onto Jake’s neck. A small smile breaks across his face every time that Jake praises him.

“That’s Ms. CeeCee’s daddy.”

Jake stops to look at the picture Gray is pointing at, to find the one of Maverick and Commander Kazansky. He pulls back even more astonished, “How’d you know that, bud?”

“Ms. CeeCee has that picture on her desk; she told me.” 

Before Jake can reply, the sound of a squeal followed by laughter has Jake setting Gray down after he tells him that they could look again later. Gray's hand fits perfectly in Jake's as the small boy gives him a chipper okay before heading to the rec room.

...

It was too early, it might have been 8:30 in the morning, which was not early at all. But for a day that they had off, none of them wanted to get up. They technically didn’t officially have the day off, but they were only supposed to be showing your group of kindergartens around.

Which they were all very excited about, but Rooster had made it known to everyone that you should have planned for later in the morning. The occasional muttered words of you being a little shit and that you purely picked the time because you were a terror of a little sister, had the group laughing. Enjoying the show of his discontent, while his head hung off the side of the couch.

Honestly, Rooster was the only one complaining. The morning was not going in his favor, not at all like the way he had planned when he woke up this morning.

You see, Rooster had a coffee shop that he got coffee from every single morning, like religiously. Not only was the coffee good, but there was a barista that Rooster had a crush on and per Phoenix's advice, Rooster had decided to try and get her number.

After pinning away at the poor girl for 3 months he was finally gonna make a move. Said plan had gone to absolute shit, he had ordered his regular order, and everything was fine. It was a normal morning, his hair looked good and he had a little bit of pep in his step.

The plan to simply ask her out when he was getting his coffee from her was solid. He had planned what he would say, planned how to ask for her number, and even thought of a few dumb jokes that might have gotten her to laugh. Though after she had handed him his coffee he completely froze; his mind had become a vast land of waste.

She had given him the sweetest smile and her voice was so light and sweet, that he had completely frozen. The only words that made it past his lips were, a word that slightly sounded like a slurred ‘you’re’ followed by ‘pretty.’

She gave him a small giggle and smile, as Rooster’s face had gone completely red. He'd gotten her to laugh, just at his own idiotic expense. Before she could say anything, he had hightailed it out of the door.

Leaving him to now, surrounded by the team as each of them poked fun at him. Phoenix had known that today was the day and asked about it first thing when she saw him. The shade of red that once again cover his face, told the squad all that they needed to know. It was out of love, Rooster knew that but how had he gone from a sweet-talking ladies’ man to barely being able to speak. He couldn't believe it and the squad made sure to place they comment of how to fix it, if he ever got the nerve to show his face to her again.

So, when a small little blonde girl with bows in her hair and a bright pink tutu looking skirt, showed up in the room everyone had instantly stopped what they were doing.

Madelaine wasn’t a shy child; no, she was more so the child that everyone knew was coming. She wasn’t a bad child, but she did have a lot of energy and the confidence of a grown man. A bull in a China hut as Jake's mother liked to call it. Explaining to you when you first met them, that when you had children to be prepared for miniature Seresins.

Laine's eyes moved around the room slowly, looking at each of them. Coyote had seen a picture of the twins that you had on your phone and knew who she was, but everyone else didn’t have clue. Sure, you and Jake talked about them, but no one had ever seen them.

No one says anything as she looks around, finding Phoenix, and giving her a massive smile. She then finds Bob, sitting quietly next to Phoenix and the small tilt of Laine’s head while she looks at Bob causes him to worry slightly. Bob’s eyes flash to Phoenix as the small girl starts walking toward him, how had such a small human have the presence of a grown man with a massive ego. Like Hangman size ego.

“My bubba has glasses like you.”

No one had been prepaid for how soft and gentle her voice was, taking that into consideration made her extremely less intimidating.

“Oh yeah?”

She gives Bob a small ‘yep’ before looking around the room. The sight of Rooster laying back on the couch, just barely paying attention to the small girl, has a massive smile breaking across her face. She slowly moves closer to Rooster, acting as if she didn't want to spook him away. Her tiny form comes to stand over the man as he lies on the couch, assessing the way his eyes move to meet her own. Her eyebrow cocks slightly in consideration before she spins around to look back at Bob.

“He the only one with a mustache?”

The question confuses the whole group as they all watch, eyes bouncing off one another in question. Where had she come from, and if she was one of your students, why weren’t you with her. Bob nods in confirmation and the wide smile that breaks across her face has him smiling in return. Phoenix and Bob share a look as Laine looks between the pair, giving them another smile that makes her look as sweet as honey, before turning around to find Rooster.

He had sat up when she had asked Bob the question and now as she stares at him, he’s unsure of what to do. That is until her small hand juts out to Rooster, clearly looking for a handshake. Rooster grasps her small hand skeptically, unsure of what the hell is going on.

“I’m Madelaine, it’s nice to meet you, Chicken.”

The words that leave her lips have his mouth dropping open, while a round of laughter breaks out around him. The reaction has Laine laughing too before she gives Rooster another smile. Slapping on the sweet and innocent act hard now.

“Sweetheart, who are you here with?” Phoenix seems to be the only one that can calm her laughter, the sight of a small girl wandering around the base had her worried and anxious about why such a small child would be alone.

Though before she can answer, Jake and Gray make their way into the room.

“Jakey, I met Chicken.”

The whole room turns to see a beaming Jake Seresin, holding the hand of a little boy. Though he drops his hand for a moment, as Laine runs to him to be picked up. Her arms wrap around his neck before he places a kiss on the crown of her head and takes hold of Gray’s hand that had grasped onto his belt for the moment.

The sight in front of them causes the whole room to pause momentarily, when had Hangman become a father. Because looking at the set of three and how they shared almost every physical feature, other than eye color, it appeared like you and Jake had children that you had been hiding for five years.

The sight doesn’t faze Javy as he’s the first one to make his way over and officially meet the twins. Laine gives Javy a big smile, while Gray remains glued to Jake, only giving Javy a small wave. Jake runs a hand through Grayson’s hair, comforting the small boy, who was clearly overwhelmed given the current circumstances.

“Alright, I guess we better do introductions. I’ve got promises to fulfill before Y/n gets here.”

Gray pops up at the mention of getting to see the planes, while Laine is already buzzing with excitement.

“This is Miss Madelaine," The small girl lifts her head from its resting place in the crook of Jake's neck to smile at the surrounding group. "and this is my new wingman Grayson.” Gray's eyes flitter around the room, not holding contact with anyone before looking back up at Jake.

Jake winks down at Gray who smiles brightly at him, happy to have the show of care and love. Everyone comes forward for introductions, each of them excited to meet the children that had consumed your and Jake’s life. 

Phoenix can’t seem to get enough of them, especially Grayson who can’t stop smiling at the pilot as she talks to him. Jake watches as she tells Gray something, before taking him to talk to Bob. Bob's mention of his glasses has Grayson smiling bigger than any of the other pilots had gotten him too.

Laine teases Rooster again as she rests in Jake's hold, though blushes and hides in Jake’s neck when he teases her back. Though Payback and Fanboy gain Laine’s attention at the mention of going to the beach. She is quick to wiggle down from Jake's hold and rush over to the couch with the two pilots. The pair ask her if she likes the ocean and cause her to go on a tangent about the sea.

...

“No, really! Dolphins are the meanies of the ocean, look it up.”

Her hands rest on her hips as she says it, waiting for Fanboy to check and smiling triumphantly when he reads an article about it. Jake shakes his head at the girl, looking at Gray who had found his way back to Jake’s side after talking to Bob.

“You ready to go, Bud?” Jake’s hand brushes a piece of gelled hair back from Gray’s face, and though he doesn’t realize it, the whole room watches in shock at how loving and gentle Jake is with the boy.

“Yes, please. Bob said he’s a weapons system operator, can he come with us? He said he would show me his controls.”

Jake nods as he sends Grayson to go tell Bob to come on. His heart swells as he watches Gray happily run to Bob across the room. This was the most public interaction that he had seen from the small boy and though Jake hadn’t been around them a lot before, you had told him how shy Gray was in public.

“Little darlin’?” Laine spins around happily when Jake calls her, leaving her lesson about the ocean with Fanboy to listen to Jake. “Wanna go see my plane?”

“And sit in it?”

“That’s what I promised, wasn’t it?”

Jake’s tone is teasing and has Laine running from the couch over to Jake after telling Payback and Fanboy that she would tell them more later. Grayson and Bob appear still talking about different planes, though he doesn’t reach out to grab Jake’s hand. Gray checks to make sure that Jake is by him, making eye contact as a silent confirmation that Jake wasn’t leaving him, before focusing back on Bob.

“We got about 45 minutes until y/n gets here and I promised these two that they could see the planes early. So, if you wanna come, lets go.”

Laine is the first one slipping from the rec room, hand attached to Jake’s as she looks around. Bob and Gray had found a safe pace right behind Jake, staying close but also allowing Gray a baby step toward space if he wanted. Jake hadn’t expected each of the pilots to get up and head to the hangar with him, to be honest, though if it was him in their place he would have come too.

Gray hadn’t stopped talking about the different planes and unbeknownst to him, the small boy had now gained the attention of all the pilots. Javy had made it to the front of the group to walk with Jake and Laine. Not expecting the spitfire to grasp onto his hand, but gladly accepts her hold. Though Javy quickly learns that Laine always seems to have ulterior motives, as she bats her eyelashes and sweetly asks if he and Jakey would swing her. A laugh falls from both Jake and Javy as the pair look at each other, before Jake silently shrugs his shoulders. Looking back at the small girl; the smile on her face was one that he couldn’t tell no.

And so, with every couple of steps, Jake and Javy had Madelaine swinging up off the ground. The small squeals of delight gain the attention of the few younger pilots that Jake recognized as students.  Though no one in the squad pays them any mind, solely focusing on the two small bundles of joy.

...

Rooster and Phoenix walk slightly slower than the group, still a part of it but back far enough that they could talk just between the pair of them. The sight of Hangman and Coyote swinging Madelaine doesn’t go unnoticed, as well as the small glances back that Hangman makes every so often to check on Gray.

“Are you seeing this?” Roosters tone is skeptical, he surely wouldn’t believe what was occurring right in front of him if he wasn’t witnessing it.

“I know, I can’t believe how much Gray knows about planes.”

Rooster all but stops in his tracks as he deadpans at Phoenix, mouth open and closing slightly, gapping like a fish. Phoenix hadn’t even noticed Rooster's harsh stop, too focused on listening to Gray list off statistics from a P-41, though the over-exaggerated hand movement finally gets her attention.

“No, Nat! I mean Hangman; when has he ever smiled as much as he is?”

“He smiles like that with Y/n.”

A frustrated huff leaves Rooster's chest and he can’t seem to figure out why no one else can see what he sees. That Hangman had turned into a gummy bear and more than he normally was with you. They looked like mini Sereins and Jake treated them like they were his. Hell, Madelaine was a damn copy of the cocky pilot all the way down to her attitude.

Phoenix notices Rooster’s baffled face and slows slightly, causing the group to separate from them further. Her lips form into a harsh line, as she raises her eyebrow slightly at Rooster, though the pilot seems to not have a clue about what he did wrong.

“I know that we give Jake a hard time, we all throw jokes, but don’t question this.” Rooster’s eyes flick toward the group and then back at Phoenix. “We all know how long they’ve been trying Roo; if this is what Y/n and Jake need then we support them. If this somehow turns into something more, we support them.”

The mention of you and Jake struggling with infertility has the smile on Rooster’s face dropping as he gives Phoenix a solum nod in understanding. Rooster had been a major person that you and Jake leaned on throughout it.

It had only happened a couple times with Jake while on base, and Rooster hadn’t heisted in taking over the class and letting Jake have a few moments. For you, Rooster had seen the sobs wreak havoc through your body and felt the hopelessness of only being able to hold you. He was your big brother and seeing you so broken, without a way to help, killed him.

The pair of them catch up to the group easily, as they had stopped to let the twins look at a jet taking off from the runway in the distance. Grayson was mesmerized and hadn’t taken his off of it till he could no longer see the plane. Madelaine had somehow landed back in Jake’s arms, as he pointed out on the horizon.

The sound of a small ‘wow’ gains Jake’s attention and has him looking down at Gray, who is already staring back at him.

“I wanna do that someday.”

Gray grabs back onto Jake’s free hand as he looks back out to see if any other jets were taking off. Though Jake’s eyes can’t seem to leave the small boy. Jake knew that Gray loved planes; but to see him look up at Jake and tell him those exact words that he had muttered to his father at such a young age, caused his eyes to gloss over and promise himself that he would do anything in his power to make sure Gray’s dream came true.

...

“How do I look?” The words are muffled behind the mask as Laine’s head sways slightly under the weight of Jake’s helmet. Her small form looks even smaller sitting in the cockpit of Jake’s plane and Jake can’t but want to talk a picture.

“You look perfect, darlin’. Smile for me, Ms. CeeCee is gonna want to see this.”

A giggle breaks from her chest as the widest smile covers her face. The round of giggle’s that breaks from her chest has Phoenix and Coyote laughing, even more so when she pokes her tongue out at Jake for a “funny pose.”

“Come on sweetpea, it’s time to let Gray have a turn.”

Jake unclips the side of the mask from his helmet, before moving to lift Madelaine out of the seat. One of her arms wrap around Jake’s neck, while the other holds his helmet secure on her head still. Jake sets her down on the steps, watching as Coyote takes her small hand and helps her down. Once safely on the ground Jake’s eyes flash up to look for Gray, though neither him nor Bob are anywhere in sight.

Jake chuckles as he makes his way down the steps, already positive that they’re in the second hangar where Phoenix and Bob’s jet resides. Both Fanboy and Payback had gone missing as well, no doubt with Gray as they couldn’t seem to hear enough about the different facts he knew.

“Gray and the boys went to our hanger.” Jake nods along to Phoenix, looking out to find Laine chasing Rooster.

“I figured,” Jake's helmet sways with every turn Laine makes, though she doesn’t falterer as she tries to ware Rooster down. “Little darlin’, come on we're going to go find bubba.”

Both Rooster and Madelaine stop to listen to Jake, while Rooster seems plenty happy to no longer be running, a small pout forms on Laine’s lips as she looks back up at Rooster.

“Chicken,” The name makes Rooster laugh, before lowering down to the small girl. Her voice lowers, so much so that he can barely hear her. “can I have a piggyback ride?”

Rooster’s smile falters momentarily, not liking how she looks down and the drop of her voice in worry. Rooster is gentle as he tips back Laine’s chin, the small frown residing on her face melts away when Rooster gives her a massive smile.

“Of course, you can.” His hand reaches out and tickles at Laine, causing another round of giggles accompanied by a full smile to break out. “Who am I to deny the princess.”

Jake silently watches as Rooster slowly gets Madelaine to open up, his chest tightening at the pair. She hadn’t told Jake anything when she had climbed into bed with him this morning, her small whimpering form had woken him up as she sat quietly at the side of the bed clutching the blanket you picked out for them.

The tears streaming down her face felt like a punch to the gut and when Jake opened his arms for her, she was instantly up and falling into them. Quiet shush’s and humming had calmed her and had her asleep in no time.

He didn’t know everything that the twins had been through, there was only so much that you could tell him when you weren’t positive of what all the twins had been through yourself. But after last night, Jake knew that letting Janice and Ed take them back at the end of the week was going to be one of the hardest things he would go through.

How could Jake willingly let two children go back into a house that he wasn’t even sure was safe? Not taking into account what the twins had shown or said, Jake wouldn’t have liked or approved of the foster parents anyway. He knew the moment that they came in to sign the paperwork this week, that they weren’t housing the kids out of love.

The small nudge against Jake’s shoulder has him leaving Rooster and Laine, to find a worried Phoenix looking at him. You and Phoenix were close and talked about everything under the sun, though he wasn’t sure what all you had told her. And he, well he only ever told Javy and Rooster sometimes, what was bothering him. More often than not he told Javy or just waited until he could talk to you.

You were Jake’s safe place, you understood and loved him when everyone else only saw him as an asshole. You knew the real Jake, the one that was vulnerable and worried that he wasn’t enough. That somehow, in some way he would disappoint you and his parents.

“You, okay?” the question rings out and causes Jake to question if he wanted to venture down that spiral right now.

“All good Phe, just trying to figure out some stuff.”

She gives him an apprehensive smile, though doesn’t prod, and follows him out to find the boys in the second hanger. Laine bounces with each step Rooster takes on his shoulders with Jake's helmet still sitting upon her head. It doesn’t take long for Laine to reach out for Jake as he gets closer, wanting to be back in his arms. The small girl slips from Rooster’s hold, and down into Jake’s awaiting arms. Jake's hand rubs gently at Laine’s back as she tightens her hold on his neck and nuzzles in deeper.

...

Jake slips his phone from his pocket to see a message from you, stating that you were 15 minutes away and asking how the twins were fairing. He quickly types back a response, before finding Gray up in Phoenix and Bob's plane, the others crowding around the base listening to Gray ask questions about the different parts that Bob knows like the back of his hand.

Laine wiggles in his hold, before quietly whispering in Jake’s ear that she would like to go see where Phoenix flies. Jake sets the small girl down and watches as she makes a beeline for the group. Fanboy helps her up the stairs and the pair giggle together, giving Bob wide smiles as he takes a picture of them.

Jake stays back, quietly watching the squadron accept the twins like they had been born into the group. Jake sees Bob pocket his phone after taking a few more pictures. Jakes calls out to him, telling Bob that he would appreciate it if he would send him the pictures. Jake gets a thumbs up, though isn’t looking at Bob long because the sight of the twins peeking over the side of the cockpit with their tongues out has him smiling.

Rooster comes to stand beside Jake, as Bob helps the twins get out and to the ground. Jake’s eyes leave the pair to look at Rooster, who still hasn’t taken his eyes off the twins.

“So, these two going to be making me an uncle?”  Rooster says it with a laugh, making sure that Jake knows that he is open to anything and doesn’t hold any contempt toward this newfound possibility of Jake and your growing family.

“I don’t know, and I can’t get mine or y/n hopes up.” A deep sigh falls from Jake's lips that finally causes Rooster to look at him. “But I know that whatever happens, I won’t be letting go of them unless it’s for a situation that would be better and more loving than what we can give them.”

“I’m guessing you’re referring to their current situation, that Javy mentioned?”

Jake’s jaw clenches at the mention of Janice and Ed. The pain of not knowing what exactly is going on but knowing that it’s enough to cause the twins to show signs of at least emotional abuse, if not more. If he found out that it ever was more, Jake wasn’t sure if there would be anyone that could stop him from settling up on behalf of the twins.

The chatter coming from the runway gains Rooster’s and Jake’s attention to see you with Mav and a group of children and a few parents. The chatter gains the twin's attention and has them setting off for you, in squeals of delight while still wearing Jake and Bob’s helmets.

The sight of you dropping to your knees to hug the pair makes Rooster’s breath catch. He watches you introduce the pair to Mav, who immediately lifts a smiling Madelaine as she talks about her helmet. Gray settles at your side, holding onto your belt loop as you introduce the group of pilots that make their way over.

“Guess that settles it.” Rooster’s voice is warm but holds a harsh tone that gains back Jake’s attention.

“They're a part of our family now.” Rooster’s gaze finally breaks from the group to look at Jake, as Jake watches an emotion cross Rooster’s face that he had only ever witnessed a few times. Those times being, when talking about his parents, after an asshole at the Hard Deck grabbed you, and the day of the Uranium mission after almost losing Mav. “I’ve had my family broken apart once, I won’t let it happen to you and y/n. And I sure as hell won’t let it happen to those two.”

[ensaz008]

---

ATTENTION

If ur an ENGENE or some sort of K-pop stan PLEASE TAKE UR TIME TO SPREAD AND READ THIS.👇

Hello good morning/ afternoon/ night. So if ur an engene this might be a very hot topic, #LETENHYPENREST.

To be honest this whole situation is so ridiculous and sick, I want engenes to spread more of this info to other fellow engenes because things r getting extremely serious. Let me give u a little summary of what enhypen has been thru since dark blood.

After around 10 months enhypen had a mini album coming, Dark blood which i know they worked their asses off to and it continued with fate tour. After around 6 months enhypen got out with another mini album, Orange blood. Those albums were amazing and fire but between those 6 months do they get rest? I'm pretty sure they don't have much rest, why? Enhypen literally had fate tours around the world. not only that promotions and shows, filming's, sponsors and practicing, etc,.. just as bad as it seems, things r just getting worst.

After Orange blood enhypen continued with some more fate tours and FATE PLUS?! Not only that between those times they feed our asses with lives, variety shows like enoclock etc. And in those concerts Jay, has been unwell for quite a while, his knee. His knee has been injured for quite a while as his cast can be seen in some pictures as well as in some concerts because.. well he has a knee injury how the flip will he dance? Some k-engenes also have the nerves to mob and be such weird obsessed asses to the members during airport departures and arrivals, flights keep coming and going.

Then, enhypen came out with memorabilia. It's connected with their darkmoon shits and lets say due to their works, they were obv all bops as expected. But during the music show, the members got really abnormal amounts of sleep.. like what do u mean u slept for an HOUR? WHAT DO U MEAN, U DIDNT SLEEP? it's affecting their healths! Guys remember fate hadn't ended, there r still fate plus! Gosh and just like 2 months after that they announced a full album will be coming out... 2. Months. Guys. What the actual hell?! The album is ofc amazing but when they perform I can't help but feel so sad and angry for them. They looked so tired and unwell like heeseung couldn't even walk straight, some members like niks even fainted?!they all looked tired and done and I would be too. And what do u mean enhypen is having another comeback in September like? Oh yay it's in my birthmonth. But I don't even care atp? I swear jay and Jake couldn't even perform a few days ago. park FUCKING jongseong was in the Goddamn hospital, belift count ur FUCKING days. Jake Is unknown but probably sick too which I'm so furious of. Seeing them mention about wanting to go on vacation with no cams just breaks my heart, they just want a break.

I'm gonna be extremely honest, I wouldn't give a fuck if they go hiatus for a year just to rest go vacation or take a break, I just want them to be able to have energy and strength, I really hope they can be all healthy and thriving again. I'm praying for enhypen with my whole heart.

***

I understand enhypen are kpop idols and have jobs as them, but does that change the fact that they are humans with actual organs, actual living bodies? Of course not! Belift obviously has a problem with that? I understand it's their job but this is over the line, humans have limits and I swear belift is going thru the limit. It's not even a joke anymore, enhypen is extremely overworked and it's so disgusting.

Please give this message a spread and use the #LETENHYPENREST not only in tumblr but other platforms like Twitter TikTok Instagram etc. We need to tell belift that engenes aren't joking because it's getting so so fucking concerning.

A job that slowly kills people.

[justalonelyslytherin]

What A Shirt Can Tell

Pairing: Colin Shea x female Reader

Summary: 5+2 times Colin asked 'Is that my shirt?' plus the one time he got asked it. Aka a look through the journey of Colin and his girl, each in which his shirts play an important role.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sleeping together, pregnancy (last 2 scenes)

Wordcount: 7.1 k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don't allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don't steal my work and don't enter it into any AI program/website.

A/N: Is it already August? Huh, wasn't it only easter a couple weeks ago? No? Well my bad, but here is finally the last of the requests I asked for that time. Thank you @drabblewithfrannybarnes for the amazing prompt! This turned into a bigger endeavor than I had anticipated but I loved both the prompt and any minute of writing it. Hopefully, you'll enjoy it just as much <3 Dividers are by the talented @/firefly-graphics

His shirt was gone, Colin was sure of it. He had spent more time searching for the stupid piece of fabric than he’d liked to admit. Where had it gone? Had he misplaced it in his apartment? He wasn’t that messy. Had someone stolen it? Who would steal just a shirt and leave everything else behind? 

There was no explanation for Colin why he couldn’t find the damn thing. Not that he didn’t have anything else to wear. He wanted to wear this shirt in particular. It was one of his favorites and – call him superstitious – it was his lucky shirt.

With a huff, he gave up. There was no finding it and he had a feeling that it wouldn’t be found in his apartment either. Not particularly happy at the prospect of having to wear something else, Colin went for his second most valued shirt and pulled it on.

Because running late also wasn’t an option today. Not if he wanted to get on the good side of his band members and keep his wallet from being depleted. He had to buy them drinks for being late one too many times already.

Turned out that all he needed to find his shirt was to leave his apartment. There in the hallway nowhere else than on her. 

“Morning Colin,” she called out as he pulled the door closed behind him. 

“Morning–” he stopped, startled by her choice of clothing. Funny, that looked exactly like his– wait a minute. Colin squinted trying to figure out if that truly was his shirt and perhaps he also stared a little too long.

“Is that my shirt?” He blurted out, causing her to freeze. Glancing down her own body at the shirt, Colin could see her brows furrow. He walked over to her to inspect the shirt closer.

“That is my shirt,” he confirmed, pulling at the fabric on her stomach, eyeing the fabric, the way it was washed out. Just in the way his shirt was. There was even the small bleach stain when he’d spilled the bottle right into his basket.

As he looked up at her again, fabric absentmindedly rubbing between his fingers, she was puzzled. Colin couldn’t help but grin in amusement.

“Did you steal that from me?” 

Watching her become so flustered amused him greatly. He laughed as she started to babble excuses for it, denying all claims of thievery. 

“It’s ok. I must have left it in the washer.” “I’ll go change,” she mumbled apologetically but he shook his head.

“No need for that.

It is my favorite shirt though, so maybe give it back once you got your joy out of it?” he mumbled, a crooked smile on his lips.

“I’ll do, promise.”

Nodding he glanced at his watch, cursing that he was now running late. Again.

Colin’s nap was rudely interrupted by a knock on his front door. Once he didn’t answer the first time, it sounded again. With a groan, he released the pillow he’d been hugging to his chest and slowly sat up.

“Come in! It’s open.”

Still busy rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning, he didn’t see her enter his apartment at first.

“You know that’s gotta stop.” “What’s gotta stop?” He asked, standing up and stretching. His bare state of clothing flustered her, as she quickly turned away from him.

“Don’t you have anything to wear?!”

“I’m not naked,” he butted in.

“But not dressed either!” Wanting to indulge her, he grabbed the discarded shorts by the side of his couch and slipped into them.

“Better?” Carefully she looked behind her, peeking at him. She huffed a little, seeing he still lacked a shirt, but decided it was better than nothing.

“Now what were you saying?” Looking at her in question, Colin patiently waited for the answer. It seemed to have been rather dire the way she hadn’t even greeted him. Now however she seemed unable to get the words out.

Her eyes flitted through his space, teeth nibbling at her bottom lip as she contemplated. Then they locked onto something. 

“If you keep using my apartment and me to get rid of your nightly companions I want compensation.” She looked at him, crossing her arms before her chest. 

Colin spluttered in surprise, the laugh falling from his lips. “Compensation? Do you want me to make you breakfast whenever I come over? Or lunch?”

“No.”

“No? Then uh…” Well, he wasn’t sure what else he could offer her.

“I’m going to take this as payment.” With that, she walked past him and bent down toward his laundry basket, in which his freshly washed shirts rested. He had been too lazy to put them away. As she stood back up she clutched a shirt of his in her hands. 

“My shirt?” He asked her.

“Yep.” 

If that's what she wanted, Colin wasn’t going to argue. Even if he couldn’t understand why exactly she wanted one of his shirts.

“That’s all?” 

His words made her stop and think. Colin started to grin at the way her eyebrows furrowed and her nose scrunched up in concentration. It was cute. She was cute.

“Well, you don’t seem to be able to offer me much otherwise.”

“Ouch,” he winced, grabbing his chest in mock hurt.

“You know I just got paid, let me take you out.” 

She looked at him with big eyes.

“I take you out now and you can have as many shirts as you want as long as I have enough to wear too, deal?”

Colin held his hand out for her, waiting on her decision. Chewing her bottom lip she seemed to contemplate the offer. In the end, she nodded and put her hand in his. They shook hands.

“Deal. You can keep hiding in my apartment and I’m allowed to steal your shirts.”

A deal made, she patiently waited for him to shrug on a shirt plus shoes and grab his wallet. Together they walked out of his apartment. 

“But why the shirts? No judgment, I’m just curious.” Colin asked as they walked down the stairs together.

“Keeps creepy guys away if they think I’m taken,” she answered with a shrug and a smile. 

“Huh,” he mumbled, watching her from the corner of his eye. He knew mayhaps a better solution for that.

Sunlight crept into the room through the cracks in the blinds, illuminating the room sporadically. Pouring over the bed the light cast long lines across the bedding, warming her cheek and arm. 

All could have been fantastic on this cozy, beautiful morning had the light not come from the wrong side of the room. This small, lone fact was the reason she couldn’t drift off into sleep once more. Instead, she carefully opened up her eyes, first one and then the other, and peered into the room that was not hers.

It looked familiar. It was, as she noticed the guitar leaning against a chair and a strong, warm pair of arms wrapped around her, that she remembered – or rather realized – where she was. 

Colin’s. 

Right. They’d been out yesterday evening.

Colin had taken her out, they’d eaten at the promenade and walked through the park to a cheap but excellent cocktail bar. That’s how she ended up in this bed.

Well, she had planned to end up in his living room, lured in by Colin’s offer to let the final part of the evening fade out with the comfort of his couch under her butt, a cool beer in her hand, and perhaps a little drunken serenade with his guitar.

Judging how the guitar remained in its stand, seemingly untouched, they had skipped the serenade and gone straight for the tumble in the sheets.

As she sunk back into the mattress, Colin curled around her back, his breath tickling her bare shoulder, she thought that this was something she could get used to.

Falling back asleep seemed easy at that moment, weren’t it for her stomach grumpily disrupting the – not so early – morning peace.

“Colin, come on!” She whined, pouting at the brunette opposite her. He only grinned, wallet pulled from his pocket as he shook his head.

“Nope. I invited you so I pay.”

“I don’t want to be indebted..”, she muttered quietly, not noticing the frown that momentarily crossed his face.

“Hey, now. Nothing of this ‘being in debt’, you aren’t. But if you so badly want to do something in return you can.”

“I can?” 

He nodded at her, thinking hard for a couple of moments. “How about you treat us to breakfast tomorrow morning?”

She snorted quietly but thought about it. “Alright. Hangover breakfast is on me tomorrow morning.”

That memory of the previous evening made her whine quietly. She wasn’t in the slightest mood to get dressed appropriately enough to leave the confines of Colin’s apartment. Leaving the house was too much work.

Hungry she was nonetheless and her annoyingly vocal stomach wouldn’t let her forget it either. Once more it grumbled, gurgling louder than the first time, a steadily growing monster waiting to be fed. 

She froze but Colin didn’t rouse in the slightest and so, after waiting a couple more ticks of the clock – there was no way the grump that demanded to be fed could wait any longer – she gradually wiggled out of his grip and climbed from his bed.

Their clothes were strewn in all directions of the room, she wasn’t even sure it was all of them. One however stood out. It was the shirt he had worn the previous evening. And even though she spied her shirt just beside it, it was the former she grabbed and lazily shrugged on. 

When Colin awoke two things were out of place. One, he had expected to wake up with company. There was a pang in his chest at the cool and empty sheets ruffled around his waist, clearly used by another body but long left behind.

He’d been so sure that what he understood to be going on between them, what he felt was budding, was mutual. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Perhaps he had read into it too much, perhaps he had run ahead at a pace she wouldn’t go. 

But then there was the second thing out of place. If he was alone, which he assumed, where was this delicious smell coming from? He couldn’t mope in his disappointment for long, his stomach faster than his brain.

Stumbling out of bed, he grabbed his boxers, discarded at the foot of the bed. Every other clothing forgotten or ignored in favor of finding the source of this heavenly smell. 

Even more amazing than the smell of breakfast was the sight before him, as he descended the couple of steps into the main space of his apartment. There he found his fled bed buddy and what a sight to behold she was.

It was simple, her state of dress and style. Hair down, ruffled in the back from their canoodling and sleep following it, barefoot and barely dressed. In fact, as Colin stepped closer – sneaking up on her, as she hadn’t noticed him yet – he observed the single item of clothing she was wearing closer.

“Is that my shirt?” He asked with a grin and a raised brow, leaning against the wall that closed off the kitchen halfway. Her head snapped around, eyes briefly widening as she looked him up and down. Colin’s grin grew, he bit on his lower lip and relished in the way she eyed him.

A low moan slipped past his lips as he got his confirmation, she was wearing his shirt. It triggered something in him, something innate and primal. Not to mention the arousal coursing through his veins at the look, but there was more. He never wanted to see a different sight than her in his shirt. 

She shrugged her shoulders, finished with eyeing him up and thinking of a calm but clever answer. “You don’t like it? Want me to take it off?” 

Colin growled quietly, his eyes darkening. Pushing off the wall he stalked up to her until they were nose to nose, toes to toes.

“I like it more than I can express, don’t want to see you ever again in anything else.” His words took her breath, a small gasp left her lips as she glanced up at him. There was no doubt in her that he meant every word he said. 

“Although I can’t decide if I want you to keep it on so I can savor the look or if I want to rip it off of you right now.” 

A shiver ran down her spine, tension coiling in her stomach. It was palpable, the air thick with crackling energy, tiny bolts sizzling between them.

The smell of food and the crackle of the stove brought her back. Clearing her throat she motioned toward the cooking breakfast.

“Food first.”

Colin hummed, coming impossibly closer to her. “Food first, then dessert.” His fingers tugged at the hem of the shirt. With a boyish grin on his lips, he tried to peek down the collar, all the while his fingers contradictory tried to tug the shirt up to get a peek elsewhere.

With a laugh she pushed his hands off, turning back towards the stove and Colin sighed in playful defeat.

“Come on Shea, don’t be a coward,” Colin murmured under his breath, chin tucked close to his chest as he hopped from one foot to the other in front of his door. “It’s just a shirt.”

Said shirt in his hands felt like it was made out of lead. It wasn’t the material that weighed so much but the implication behind it. Which, in truth, was even more stupid than if in his hand he had a shirt actually made out of lead.

Time had passed since he had last seen her wear his shirt that morning in his kitchen. Time in which the two of them had gone on many more outings – dates they’d agreed to name them – crowned with the agreement of going steady. 

And while Colin had gained a girlfriend, he had lost the previous agreement of compensation, her need for cashing in the demand for one of his shirts void. Instead of hiding in her apartment from his flavors of the night, the two of them either woke up together in one of their apartments or met for a shared breakfast.

There was no way Colin would ever want to go back to how it was before, but he did have to admit that he missed having her come in to collect her payment and he missed it even more to see her wear one of his shirts just casually. So he was going to do something about it. 

Today.

Right now.

With a sigh and a crack of his neck following the roll of his shoulders, he turned the doorknob and strode out of his apartment. Right across the hallway, past the staircase and to her door, opposite of his. 

She was lounging on her sofa, caught up in the depths of a book as Colin sauntered down the four steps into the living space. It was right about then that he stopped as if he had slammed into an invisible wall. 

Surprised, he asked, “Is that my shirt?” 

Dropping the book into her lap, she looked up at him but all Colin could focus on was the print of the – clearly too big – shirt on her frame. He hadn’t expected to see her wearing a shirt of his. He hadn’t even noticed it was gone.

“What…when did you..” he muttered, scratching the back of his head in bafflement, too dumbfounded to end the train of thought let alone the sentence.

In amusement she snorted at her stunned boyfriend, smiling and feeling a sense of pride and triumph.

“Took you long enough to realize,” she grinned at him, happy how good of a job she had done. It was then she noticed the fabric in his hand, hanging limply at his side.

“Did you steal more of my shirts?” 

Instead of answering, she asked her own question. “What’s that?” 

Colin’s eyes followed hers, zeroing in on the shirt in his hands. He hadn’t forgotten it, okay he might have, but his reasons were good! Now he raised the newly discovered article of clothing in his hand, his mission coming back to mind.

“I, ugh- I wanted to give you this to..” He sighed, whining at the look of delight on her face, “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Enjoying this so much!” He growled, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She laughed as Colin stalked towards her. Plopping down on the sofa beside her he contemplated if it was worth it to try to tickle her.

She had a mean kick, a fact he had regrettably learned through firsthand – foot – contact. It was an experience he had no need to relieve a second time.

“I’m sorry, you are just too cute,” she muttered, leaning over to press a kiss to his lips. Colin hummed and chased the softness of her lips.

“Kiss me some more and I might forgive you.” “Forgive me?” She taunted, a brow raised in mock as her eyes glinted with mischief. 

“Yeah. That or you can tell me since when you have this and why I haven’t seen you wear it until now.” Her wearing his clothes had an undeniable reaction on Colin. He couldn’t get enough of the sight. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen only second to her beauty when she lay sweaty and naked beneath him.

His words made her roll her eyes, but the smile never faltered. “Colin you obviously haven’t paid close enough attention, I’ve been wearing your shirts nonstop.”

“Really?”

“Yeah really. If you had been not so busy trying to get me naked every chance you get–”

“–I didn’t hear you complaining before!” With another eye roll, she leaned forward and kissed him again, mainly to shut him up.

“As I was saying, I’ve been wearing them fairly regularly. I snuck a shirt or two out of your apartment a couple of times.” Admitting it suddenly made her shy.

Colin however looked at her entirely smitten. His arm wrapped around her, knuckles rubbing the space between her shoulder blades in comfort and to encourage her to continue.

“I like wearing them,” she admitted, chewing on her bottom lip, “they smell like you and that is comforting. And I kinda got used to it.”

Colin’s heart stuttered and swelled with warmth. “I love you.” 

The thought, no, the feeling had been lingering in him for a while now but there had never been the right time in his mind to tell her. But right now felt like the perfect time. He could no longer hold this a secret, not when she invoked such vivid feelings in his chest. Colin had never felt so deeply and strongly for anyone.

In surprise she sucked in her breath, the air whistling between her lips. She looked at him with widened eyes. Colin could see the various emotions flit over her eyes, her mind working at lightning speed to process the words. And once they finally did, warmth flooded her expression.

“I love you too,” she whispered softly, breathily.

Laughter intercrossed the patter of water against tiles and glass. The spray of liquid obscured the two bodies, ripples of steam rose from their feet and swirled upwards between their legs. The warm water softly cascaded down over them, hair soaked and clinging to their bare skin.

A soft giggle escaped her lips at the tickling breath crossing her shoulder. There was the scratch of stubble from Colin’s cheeks grazing her neck mixing into the sensation. He nosed along her shoulder, lips hovering just a breath away.

Yet it was his hands that drew the happy sounds out of her, the little giggles and bigger waves of laughter, and in between the little sighs as well. He was feeling her up, his hands restlessly traveling over the planes of her body, fingertips gently caressing the bare skin. If not for the warm spray of water he’d have reduced her to shivers. Alas, he hadn’t come that far yet.

All of it was slow and languid. They had all the time in the world. The rest of their lives. Now even more so as the matching bands on their hands twinkled in unison in the refracting lights. 

Colin took his time, arms wrapped around her, hands softly drawing up and down her sides. He was comfortably draped around her back, herself leaning into the hold, head resting on his shoulder. He couldn’t have been happier.

Focused entirely on the other, on their intimate togetherness, their bodies swayed softly following their natural rhythm, an instinctual dance.

A gasp left her as his lips pressed onto the column of her neck, trailing along to the crossing where her shoulder fused with her collarbone. The gasp turned into a breathless hum, kisses turning to small nibbles and soft strokes on her skin to hungry paws of her flesh. 

“Colin,” she hummed into the warm, steam-mottled air, eyes fluttering shut. His traveling hands halted just under the swell of her breast, thumbs drawing over the bottom most part of her curves.

“Yes, my love? My wife.” She felt him grin into the sentence, lips tugging upwards against her skin, emphasized by another nibble, this time at the edge of her jaw, just below her ear.

The term still felt new and unfamiliar but she was certain she’d find a quick liking to it, just as she had found to address him as her husband.

“Room Service is going to be there any moment now.”

“And?”

“Someone’ll need to answer them.”

“Can’t they just leave it outside the room? I’m sure they can wait.” He couldn’t see her brows furrow from his position but he heard the whine coming from deep within her chest.

“But breakfast… my caffeine.”

“You are such an addict,” he laughed against her skin, groping fingers briefly turning to tickle her sides. She squealed, hand reaching back to pinch him into the side making him yelp in surprise.

“If you want to keep your wife happy you better not stand up the room service with our breakfast.”

With a heavy-hearted sigh and droopily hanging shoulders Colin relented. “Alright, alright. You’ll get your breakfast,” he promised her, pressing one last kiss against her temple before his arms slid from her frame.

He was already halfway out of the shower when she called to him once more. As he turned around lips pressed against his, the kiss broken only by the obnoxious knock against their hotel room door.

A short exchange with the friendly hotel employee congratulating him on their wedding later, Colin was wheeling the trolley filled with deliciously smelling breakfast into their hotel room.

“Sweetheart, breakfast is here!” 

It took her less than two seconds to open the door of the bathroom and step out. And Colin? He had to do a double take, eyes raking over her form. He had the most gorgeous wife, he was sure of it and right now she looked like a goddess there to bless his life.

His eyes traveled up from her feet over her bare legs to the hem of…

“Is that my shirt?” He asked her, lips forming into a grin. It had become their little game, their inside joke, this one question. One question that had started their journey and let them on the path to happiness.

“Hm, no. It’s my husbands.” She hummed, lips parting in a cheeky grin as her fingers ran along the button facing of his dress shirt. The one he’d worn yesterday during their ceremony and the following celebration. 

She’d buttoned only two buttons in front of her chest, barely enough to keep her covered, a teasing amount of skin still peeking through. The ends of the shirt brushed against her upper thighs as she crossed the room.

Colin snorted in amusement, eyes never leaving her. He watched her with hunger in his eyes, a hunger that wasn’t directed at the food in front of him.

“Your husbands?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“Yep. He is the best.”

“He is?”

“Yeah, when he’s not taking forever with breakfast and keeping me from my morning caffeine at least.”

“Hey!” Colin laughed, reaching for her in playful anger. She squealed once more, jumping out of his reach, her laughter mixing with his.

“Okay, I take it back! I take it back, Colin!”

Still, he held her in his arms, hands grabbing her around her waist, the thin fabric of his shirt barely concealing the feel of her beneath his palms. Her arms wrapped around his neck, nimble fingers caressing the short hair at the back of his skull. A lazy grin settled on his lips as he took a long, appreciative look at her.

“You are beautiful,” he told her, leaning forward to capture her lips in another kiss. He’d never get enough of her, how she tasted. And as they parted once more, he glimpsed down, eyes peeking under his dress shirt. Groaning loudly, his hands slipped from her waist.

“Hurry up with your coffee, I’m hungry,” he moaned and she laughed.

“There’s an entire trolley full of food.”

“Not that kind of hungry.”

Colin lay on the couch in misery, the small fan before him blowing sadly through the room. More than moving some of the uncomfortably heated air through the room its power wouldn’t allow. There was no relief from the icky way he felt. 

It was hot, it was sticky, it was sweaty.

“When did the repair guy say again he’d be there?” He called out into the house, the effort almost taking too much energy from him as he poked out his tongue.

Even stripped down to his underwear he was barely standing the heat. Anything more simply too hot to wear, he was contemplating losing even the last fickle piece of clothing. Although it wouldn’t do much either.

“Tomorrow!” His wife's call came from somewhere in the house, but Colin was too lazy to track where from more closely.

“Tomorrow better be coming fast.” With a groan, he pushed off the coach, the floor beneath his feet disappointingly warm. More than sluggish steps he couldn’t muster as he trudged towards the kitchen. There he found her standing in front of the fridge.

“Cooling yourself off?” He asked, smirking as she was mostly hidden behind the opened door.

“I’m miserable,” she whined, her head peeking out from behind the door to look at him. Colin’s heart did a salto in his chest, a frown appearing on her lips immediately after.

“I’m sorry baby.” He was wishing he could aid her somehow, make her feel more comfortable. But alas Colin couldn’t even help himself feel more comfortable right now. It made him feel useless, the sensation heavy in his stomach even as he attempted to swallow it down.

She huffed, stepping back and closing the door before the fridge could start to beep. If only she could have it open forever, at least the fridge meant a small moment of alleviation. It was just their luck that the AC unit had to break during the height of summer.

“Colin this is all your fault,” she huffed again, pressing her hands to the small of her back as she swayed on the balls of her feet. Her complaints flew entirely over his head as Colin's eyes – and brain – zeroed in on one thing only. Everything else around him forgotten.

There it was, pulling all attention to it, the rather pronounced bump she was sporting, peeking out between the fabric of her shirt. He couldn’t believe it even now. Pregnant. Soon to be three, their family was going to add another person. She was growing a little him and her in there.

He wanted to fall to his knees and weep whenever the image hit him like it did now. He wanted to worship her, cradle her in his arms, carry her on his hands.

Mesmerized by the view, his fingers itched to touch her belly, to rub his hands all over it. He held back the urge, if only for the fact he knew it would make her feel even hotter than she was. Colin wasn’t about to make it even worse if he couldn’t help soothe her afterward. Then again, even with the AC working she’d been barely above feeling miserable before.

“You’ve almost got it baby. We’re on the last stretch.” It was a fickle reminder, a promise that it would be over sooner rather than later. But even that could only help so much when every minute felt like an eternity and every hour passed slower than the one before.

His eyes stayed focused on the continuously growing bump as she shifted, turning around to him and with her, the fabric around her body shifted too. It caught the edge of his attention, the glimpse of it startled him out of his focus as he eyed it closer for the first time.

“Is that my good dress shirt?” His brow raised in question and surprise. It was nothing new for her to wear his things but mostly she preferred his t-shirts over everything. And adding to it Colin was certain that shirt had been buried in the furthest corner of his wardrobe. He wasn’t even sure if it had seen the light of day since their wedding.

“Yeah,” she shrugged her shoulders, “I’m not going to cook in one of your shirts. It’s too warm and I’m miserable enough already.”

“I’m not complaining,” he snorted happily, now taking his time to eye her up and down.

“You’ll never get tired of ogling me, will you?”

“Nope.” Putting emphasis on the p Colin brightly grinned at her. “Not when you always look so smokin’ hot.” He couldn’t help it, he was fully attracted to her. And she wasn’t making it much easier for him, wearing only cotton panties and a tiny bralette beneath his unbuttoned shirt. Not to mention the changes in her body the pregnancy brought forth were an even bigger turn-on for him.

“Don’t even think of getting turned on right now. It’s too hot for that. If so, you can make do with your hand.” Her disgruntled words made him laugh and nod. 

“Come on, I have an idea to cool you down a little.”

“Is it a new, functioning AC unit?” She asked him full of undiluted hope, teeth coming down upon her bottom lip.

“Sorry baby.” He had to disappoint. Putting his hands on her shoulders and softly guiding her towards the living room Colin added, “You gotta make do with the fan until tomorrow. Now go sit down on the couch.”

She looked over her shoulder at him once more, her eyes searching for a cue. At last, she nodded, cutely waddling toward the living room. Colin already knew he’d miss this soon.

“It’s the ice cream man~” Colin’s sing-song voice carried over to her shortly after, her husband stepping into the living room moments later. In one hand he held two glasses, ice cubes sloshing in the liquid content, and in his other hand two packs of ice cream. Her heart leaped at the view of him. 

“You’re the best,” she murmured, gladly taking the ice cream from his hand and eagerly ripping the packaging open so she could get a taste of the sinfully cool treat. What had her hum more than the pleasure of the cool creamy sweetness on her lips was the cool press of glass that Colin held against her neck. Any other moment and she would have flinched away, now the groan that left her lips was almost obscene.

“You enjoying yourself?” He asked as he plopped down beside her, a mindful distance away. There was nothing more that she wanted than to cuddle into his side – besides a functioning AC maybe – but it was simply too warm.

“Oh yeah,” she muttered, too busy eating her ice cream to care much for anything else going on around her. So much in fact she pliantly let Colin maneuver her feet into his lap. Expertly he opened his own ice cream with the aid of his teeth.

“You and your skills,” she mused with a raise of her brow, “That’s what got us into this situation in the first place.” 

Colin snickered in amusement, shaking his head. He looked at her, eyes glinting in mischief as he took the first lick of his ice cream.

“Nah, I think you’re mistaken. Me not using this skill is what got us into this situation,” he answered cheekily, for a moment forgoing his own restraint to let his hand roam over her swollen middle. His heart always leaped in excitement whenever he felt the life growing there beneath his hand.

His darling wife eyed his hand, rolling her eyes at his words, and decided to enjoy her ice in peace. Colin kept his hand roaming a little more, disappointed when nothing roused beneath his hand and so he joined her in enjoying his ice cream.

Much later, after they’d eaten their ice cream and their glasses were almost empty, some last stubborn ice cubes refusing to melt in them, Colin had slouched down far enough on the couch to have pressed some tickling kisses against the edge of her rips and the swell of her bump. 

His glass, which he had mostly kept resting with his wrist on top of her feet, occasionally pressing the chilled glass against them to watch her sigh in relief, gave him an idea. 

One eye prying open as his ministrations had stopped, she watched him fish an ice cube out of the class.

A shiver ran down her spine at the ice-cold feel of the translucent cuboid that Colin pressed against her belly. If it weren’t feeling so nice she would scold him. It felt too good and so she instead watched him draw transparent shapes. They laughed in unison as someone at last stirred in her belly, movements and a kick becoming visible under her skin.

Colin felt bone-weary, ready-to-drop-dead tired. Exhaustion oozed from every pore of his being. With his eyes closed the greatest temptation right now was to simply fall asleep reclined on the couch where he sat. Work had been exhausting and while he enjoyed it with every ounce of his being there were moments he’d wished back to the time he’d been a struggling artist. Although if the choice were to arise he’d never actually go through with it. He’d never give up his life as it was, no way he’d ever leave them behind.

His lips curled upwards as he heard the shrill giggles coming closer, the shuffling feet in the hallway. Cracking one eye open, just in time, he watched his wife walk into the living room, their toddler propped on her hip.

With a grin powerful enough to split his face he opened his arms, holding them out in wanton for his baby. She laughed at him, rolling her eyes as he made grabby hands for both. Pointing towards him she diverted their little one's attention. Big blue eyes, the same as his, landed on him. In an instant that tiny little face split beaming, tiny limbs becoming wiggly.

“Alright, alright. You have no patience, just like your dad,” he heard her mutter to their little one in amusement. Both of them wiggled in unison, undivided happiness.

“Watch.” 

At first, Colin was confused, unsure what she meant. Quickly his confusion melted away, replaced by wonder and delight. Setting down the toddler, tiny hands securely clasped in her much bigger ones, Colin watched in amazement as plump little feet stumbled toward him. Clumsy yet determined their little one waddled over him, a look of concentration that had Colin’s heart grow exponentially.

And then those tiny hands, previously clasped in his wive’s, landed on his knees, grip surprisingly strong as he was used as a prop to stand. It was then that Colin noticed it.

“Is that my shirt?” he asked in surprise, looking up at his wife. How he’d missed the ginormous piece of fabric hanging from the much smaller frame of their toddler he had no idea. It was hilarious how the shirt swallowed the child almost entirely and it was as they cooed and looked around that he noticed the tie at their back, holding the shirt upon their frame. 

Colin snorted in amusement, watching as his wife plopped down beside him on the couch. In turn he leaned forward, hands shooting out to pull the toddler onto his lap in a surprise attack.

“It’s a little big don’t you think?” He teased with a raised brow, fingers tickling the little one. Their shrill laughter was music in his ears. Colin knew he’d never be able to get enough of this. These moments of pure delight, of happiness, and the best memories he’d ever be able to make.

“Only a little,” she agreed in amusement, fingers reaching out to fuss with their little ones' fringe. “Give it a couple of years and that shirt will fit just alright.”

Gasping in disagreement, Colin frowned and pulled the child against his chest, arms tightly wrapped around. His lips curled upwards at the happy giggles, fingers itching for another tickle attack. “How can you say that? No growing up, I won’t allow it!”

This in turn had her laugh and shake her head, “I don’t think that’s how it works Colin.”

For a short moment he looked actually stricken, brows furrowed in contemplation. The grin that spread across his face afterward meant nothing good. Suspicion arose in her as he leaned over to her, nose nuzzling her cheek before he pressed a kiss there.

“Guess we need another one then.”

“Another one?” She asked him in surprise. His eyes twinkled as he nodded, the look had her heart hammer in her chest and a warmth erupt in her stomach.

“Gotta make sure we always have one at that age, so we never run out of those moments.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat, crossing her lips in disbelief, “Let’s focus on one more first. It’s not you who has to endure it all for 9 months, dear husband.” 

But Colin didn’t listen, all he heard was one thing. “So that’s a yes?”

“Go sit down I’ll change ‘em,” Colin murmured into her ear, hand softly rubbing across her back as they trudged into their house. She sighed in thanks, first pressing a kiss onto their little one's cheek before Colin received a peck on the lips.

The second she plopped down on the couch, her shoes were off. Relief flooded her agitated toes, glad to be out of the tight confinements of her heels. It didn’t take long for Colin to return, still dressed dapperly as could be. He cleaned up exceptionally well and effortlessly, something she was ever jealous of. 

Their little one propped on his arm, he carried the little one holding their favorite toy. In the middle of the living room, he left the child down, which with an almost theatrically plop flopped down on their behind, playing by themselves.

Colin followed shortly after, plopping down equally theatrically beside her on the couch and with a yawn wrapped his arm around her. Happily, she snuggled against his side, head resting on his shoulder.

“It was fun,” she mused. Colin hummed, pressing a kiss onto her crown.

“It was, but also damn exhausting. Suddenly I understand the appeal of a childless wedding. No one can tell me that’s not to give all the poor parents a night off as much as it is for the couple.”

She snorted in agreement. While it had been fun attending their friends' wedding with their little one, it had been just as exhausting.

“How long do you think until they knock out?” 

“Could be minutes but could also be another hour or so.”

“Let’s hope for the first,” Colin murmured against her hair, pressing another kiss there as his thumbs caressed her side. 

There was no space between them left but that didn’t stop her from trying to snuggle even closer to her husband as she watched their little one play by themselves. As she did, she noticed something. Their little outfit had been replaced by nothing other than…

“Is that your shirt?” Colin beside her started to snicker, she could feel the proud grin practically against her temple.

“Took you long enough to notice,” amusement filled his voice as he taunted her, “You started something there baby.”

“I started it?”

“Yeah, you,” Colin emphasized the words by tapping his finger against her nose, winking at her, “I remember you putting my shirt on them and the rest is history.” 

He wasn’t entirely wrong. Ever since their little one would ask to wear the shirt again.

“I wasn’t about to deal with a tantrum by denying our overtired kiddo to wear the shirt instead of their jammies.”

That certainly had been a wise decision. They always could switch it out once they were fast asleep. One more thing Colin had inherited his firstborn. Sleeping like the dead.

“It was either the tee or my dress shirt.” Colin grinned at her as she snorted, shaking her head. “You know I’m pretty sure that’s also thanks to you.”

“Why me again?” She asked, curious about his reasoning. Colin shuffled a little, sinking further down into the plush sofa, and stretched out his legs. 

“Well, you basically wore nothing else for like half the pregnancy.”

“I don’t think that’s how genetics work Colin.” 

Colin shrugged his shoulders, grinning down at her. He didn’t care if it worked like that or not. It was his explanation and he would stick with it until she had a better one for him.

“You better have some extra ones or you can start saying farewell to them,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to his jaw, which confused and startled him. Turning to watch her, Colin raised both his brows. “What does that mean?” 

She smiled at him, softly and in what he liked to call her ‘totally smitten’ way, the way that always made his heartbeat add an extra step. He looked down, watching her finger draw little hearts across his chest as she hummed.

“It means,” with that she grabbed his hand, slowly guiding it towards her middle, “that you’re going to get what you asked for. A little sibling for the kiddo.”

[skinnywalker]

Professional protector (Aaron Hotchner x nanny! male reader)

It's become a slight problem. Most nights it Hotch was late. Some he wasn't home at all and babysitters were only so reliable.

"You're really using Garica to get a other new babysitter?"

"I'm not trust random teens with my boy."

Emily rolls her eyes and pulls away the file of potential names.

"Can't you just hire a full time?"

Hotch groans.

"Same problem."

"Well it's either a once time issue or a till-jack-is-grown issue so make up you mind."

She's right of course, he needs to just bite the bullet.

After nearly an hour of barely scrapable options Hotch's attention was caught by a face.

Young, clean cut, handsome and with a bakround in child care. He gives Hocth a strange stomach twist, the kind he felt in high-school when he meet Harley. That same at once connection.

"Is he free?"

"Looks like it. Says on his employee web page he is open for full weekdays."

"Send that to me would you?"

Garcia can't help the small grin that crosses her lips.

"At once my lord."

From his nightstand the buzz of that familiar notification sounds him awake.

Clients.

He checks the profile his boss Diane always sends but this one is different than normal. He is used to business men who don't have time for their children but the man is an FBI agent and high in ranks too.

Doesn't look half bad either.

"How much is the pay?

"60 an hour."

He stops dead in his track.

"60? For one child and house sitting?"

"Ahuh. He asked me if that was too low."

"Too low?!"

She smiled at him with a gleam I her eyes.

"He really wanted you specifically."

Hotch keep glancing at his watch. He wasn't late but Hotch was nervous he might be.

"Excuse are you Mr. Hotchner?"

He's pretty in person Hotch thinks. More real. More warm. He's bright-looking but not cocky. Fair featured but no vain. He could reach out his hand and Hotch would near before him to kiss it without even thinking.

"Yes, you must be the nanny."

"Ahuh. Would you like to go over the details of what you need me to do while your away?"

Hotch smiles. He has no clue why but it feels natural.

"Of course."

Hotch leads him through the house explain everything he needs from the house care side of things.

"-and if you can't try to fold the blankets to fit in properly I'd be really thankful."

"Of course. What about your son?"

"Jack spends most of the day at school. He still in k-8 and does sometimes need homework help. He can make his own food but often prefers it made. He has 2-3 hours of screen time weekdays and 4 on weekends. He'll want to call me when I'm out of town which you can also do if you need anything."

He nods. Simple kid.

"He always wants to come along on grocery trips and basically anytime you leave the house."

Hotch hands him the house keys.

"And most importantly he'll ask for want he wants and his bedtime is 8:30."

"Got it. I call you at night if I have questions."

"Daddy?"

The two turn to see a sleepy toddler standing in door way. His spider-man pj's frumbled from napping.

"Hey Jack buddy, this is your new babysitter. He'll be here all day till I come back in the evenings so you don't have to be alone at home."

Jack looks up. Hotch feels the two smiling at eachother. His heart is aching know Jack is already bonding with the nanny. This have been a good idea.

"I have to go home today Jack but I'll see you again tomorrow ok?"

"Ok! Can we play with my Lego pirates."

"We can play whatever you want to Jack."

Hotch loves that smile on Jack. The innocent love. His boy is safe.

"Hotch? We have an emergency."

"What is it J.J.?"

"Ten victims all male in their 20s and the unsub is moving."

"I'll be there in ten mintues."

Hotch's body knows the routine of his morning work runs so well it work on autopilot.

Lastly he kisses Jack's sleeping head and text his new nanny 8 words.

"Flying for work for at least a week."

He'll get what I mean Hotch thinks before he stops himself. Why is he so sure? He doesn't even know the guy and he is trusting him like an old friend already. That's not good but Hotch can't seem to stop himself. He doesn't trust easily but something about him is so safe. So at home at ease. Hotch hates how his walls are just gone the moment he met a pretty man who takes care of his son. Hotch hopes he'll stay.

"He's targeting men who seem successful in love. Men with kids and partners and well paying jobs. Young man living how he wants to live. And he does it through robbery and hold ups. He is choosing targets on the fly."

"Where do we thinking he is making his way to?"

"Maybe his home or his get away car. I don't think he can keep this up for too long and I know he thinks that too."

At the hotel Hotch picks up his nightly call.

"How's your nanny been buddy?"

"I love daddy! He is super smart and he knew all about the history for my test on Tuesday and he makes such good pasta and he read me all the books I have trouble with!"

Hotch feel his stomach twist again. Just like a dad.

"That's great buddy. I'm glad you like him so much."

"He is gonna be my new best friend."

"I'm sure he will sweets now you need to good to bed."

"Ok, Goodnight daddy."

"Sleepwell Buddy. I love you."

"Love you too!"

He's safe. He's for the first time Hotch feels confident in thinking that Jack is really safe and happy. He sleeps better that night then he has in a while.

"Unsub is now in Virginia and he's getting risky. Going straight for our home now. He might even be there at this moment."

"So we came out here just to go home?"

"No, we came out here to know for certain he is home. Let's go."

Jack had asked to come along to the Cafe. He had followed his nanny to the counter and was rewarded with a small pink lemonade.

"Have you ever tried limeade or just lemon?"

He shakes his head no.

"Never liked lime. Too sour."

He chuckles.

"I like a lot of sour things especially ones that have some sweet in them."

"Everyone get on the floor! This is a hold up and if everyone behaves no one will get hurt."

Jack looks up confused and then frighten.

"Nanny?"

"Comere Jack. Everything will be alright."

"We've tracked him to a Cafe he's holding up. Swat is on their way but we don't time on our side."

"How fast can we get there?"

"20."

"20 is not fast enough."

"You, with the blonde kid. Move up here."

His arms wrap around Jack and gently lead them both to the front.

"Give him to me."

"No."

His breathing hitches.

"I'm not letting you near him. You'll have to take me first."

The click of the handriffle echoed in his ears before he felt the the world go black.

When the room came back into focus he realized he was in the ER. His chest was burning. He could feel the dizziness bringing him in and out of blurry awareness.

"Hey, just rest, you're really injured."

"Jack.. what about Jack?"

"He's safe with his father."

A knock at the door interrupts them.

"Hello Doctor is it OK for me to see him?"

"Mr. Hotch? Is that you?"

Hotch leans over the hospital bed brush some hair.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've been worse."

"Worse than shot?"

He giggled even though it hurt.

"Yeah. I'm better knowing Jack is safe."

"He was really scared for you, so was I. You don't know how much it means to me that you put yourself in such danger for my boy."

"I'd do it again."

Hotch felt strange. On one hand he was deeply relieved that he was safe but such a close call had his nerves in a twist. It was like a weight had been added to his psyche. Hotch couldn't let anything happen to him. He felt protective.

"How is he?"

"Exhausted but ok."

"Hotch I know he is just your nanny but you seem pretty worried."

"I can't help but be. He nearly died keeping Jack safe. I don't know what could've happened if I hired someone less bare. This whole time I've felt so.... connected with him. Like he is someone who I can trust."

"Does Agent Aaron Hotchner have a slight crush."

Oh no.

[euijoosorangeslice]

I have thoughts about the hyung line :

• Fuma and K tend to be boy's dads

• Euijoo and Nicholas are more inclined towards girl's dad

I completely agree with this take actually.

warnings: suggestive, a lot of pet names, idk what to label this as fluff?

• (child age 7) kei coming to his sons football meet to cheer for him, hugging his son and lifting him in the air. “Great game! You are gonna be big someday, little guy!” Your son would laugh loudly as kei held him upside down by his legs. Kei would place him back on the ground, his son scrambling to grab his things to go home.

You buried your head into Kei’s arm, smiling like a plastic doll. “What’s got you so giddy?” He’d ask, running his fingers through your hair. “Just my two boys in the same space. I can’t believe he really has your eyes.” Kei reached down, sliding his hand over your butt. “I mean, maybe we could have one that has yours?”

• (child age 2) “Papa! Give me uppies!” His son would cry, Fuma working over the stove to make lunch for his family. “I- oh hold on baby, Papa really needs to finish lunch before mommy gets up.” His son would wail even louder, and Fuma would have no choice but to pick him up and attach him to his hip.

“It’s okay, my love. Papa’s here.” You stumbled into the kitchen, leaning against the counter in your robe with your messed up hair. “Ugh, I slept in again.” You’d whine, Fuma smiling at your messed up state. “Good morning, beautiful. It’s probably hard to not sleep in when your legs are still sore from your…anniversary gift last night. Anyway, sandwiches are in the menu, darling. Made a side of beans since you were craving them.”

“Speaking of cravings, I took another test. Guess who’s eating for two?” You giggled kissing his cheek. “The same girl who has morning breath.” You delivered a hard punch to his stomach, making him shout. “Fuck your sandwiches.” You grumbled, walking to the bathroom.

• (child age 16) Your daughter ran excitedly into the living room, holding her phone. “Mom, can I go to a party tonight? Before you ask, yes there will be boys, but I don’t like any of them! And I’ve been taking my birth control anyways. I’m not going to get pregnant.” You smiled at how hastily your daughter pleaded her case. “Ask your father.” Your husband interjected, “No way. Boys are animals, and I don’t want you getting caught up in trouble.”

“Dad! I promise I won’t get into trouble! You know I’m smarter than that.” She pleaded, but Euijoo shook his head. “There’s no way I’m letting it happen. Unless, you can promise me there will be nothing more than kissing, no touching below the belt, and you don’t take any drugs. Drink responsibly and you better be back by 11:30 on the dot.” Your daughter sighed, subtly rolling her eyes. “Fine, ok whatever! I won’t do any of that stuff, thank you.” She ran back upstairs to get changed, making you giggle.

Euijoo leaned into your touch as you brushed your fingers through his hair. “I just don’t want her getting hurt. I was a teen boy once, and you know how that went.” You kissed his cheek, holding his hand. “You have to be a little lenient. We raised a smart one, she can fend for herself. Trust her. Now, she’ll be gone all night and we can have some time to ourselves.” You smiled, kissing his collar. “We could do it right on the couch.”

•(child age 13) just imagining nicho being proud of his little girl playing in something like a basketball competition, (he’d love if she did a sport that he likes) and he’d turn to you and smirk. “We made such a beautiful baby girl. Maybe we should make another when we get home?” He hinted, making you roll your eyes.

“No. We are going to take our daughter down to her favorite place for dinner, and when we get home we are going straight to bed.” You instructed, making Nico smile. “I’d go straight to bed with you any night, angel.” You rolled your eyes again, standing up. “Want anything from the concession stand?”