#there's one line in here that just makes me think 'holy SHIT mint is so cool

[jiniretracha]

ꕤ 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 '𝟐𝟒 - 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟖 ꕤ

Cha Eun Woo x fem!reader: lingerie use

summary: Nayeon, your best friend, had insisted you on buying a lingerie set for your boyfriend.

warnings: smut, lingerie, insecurities (?), unprotected sex, i just want a bf like him is that too much to ask?

word count: 1.5k

kinktober masterlist // masterlist // ko-fi

The shopping mall wasn’t something you frequented that much. You were more into online shopping and when you did actually go, you always went to the same shops. Plus, crowds weren’t really your thing. It annoyed you that people didn’t really know how to walk through aisles without bumping into you. 

But there you were.

Nayeon, your best friend, had insisted you on going to the mall, blabbering about wanting to buy a new set of lingerie for her. She kept skipping through the different stores until she reached one of her liking. 

“Tell me, isn’t this cute?” she asked, grabbing a creme baby doll dress and holding her up over her chest. 

You smiled and nodded. “Yeah”

She huffed and left the baby doll back in its place. “You’ve said that about every single piece of clothing that I’ve shown you, Y/N” she pouted as she crossed her arms over her chest with a frown.

You chuckled. “I’m sorry, Na. I’m just a little bit tired” you sighed. “But I promise I like it, I think it’ll look amazing on you” 

Nayeon then gasped and covered her mouth. “Holy shit, I know! We’ll have to get you one of these!” she squealed, clapping her hands together. 

Your eyes widened. “Oh God, Nayeon. Please…”

“Oh come on! Don’t you wanna show Eunwoo how good you’d look in one of these? Because I’m telling you, that man is whipped as fuck for you. Would you imagine if he saw you in one of these?” Nayeon kept on insisting.

You grimaced and arched your eyebrows. “You’re sure these will look good on me?” you asked her.

Nayeon practically snorted at your insinuation. “Look good on you? Fuck no, you’ll look stellar, perfect, flawless in them” she smirked.

You let out a sigh and gave up. “Okay, help me choose one?”

── .✦

Nayeon left you at home with the baby doll set you purchased, in hopes that your boyfriend would like you in it.

You had already tried it on back at the store, but you felt like trying it on again.

You stared at yourself in the mirror dressed up in a light mint green coloured lace lingerie set, the bra cups pushed up your tits on your chest, practically spilling out. The panties were thin as freaking lines and they barely made an effort to cover up your crotch. 

You chewed on your lip as your eyes danced all over your figure.

Your heart started slamming inside your ribcage when you heard the front door opening and a familiar sigh.

“Baby, I’m home” Your boyfriend called out from the living room. “Are you in the bedroom?” Eunwoo asked.

You snatched your robe from the closet and quickly threw it on, tying the knot quickly over your waist. “Y-yeah, I’m here!” you called back.

His comforting and very much needed presence filled the room. He instantly smiled at you and walked over to you, framing your face and kissing your lips. “I missed you” he whispered against your lips and you giggled.

“I missed you too” you whispered back. 

“You just came out of the shower, hon?” he asked you, noticing that you were wearing a robe.

You looked down at what you were wearing and felt your cheeks reddening. “Uh- I- no. I just came back from the mall with Nayeon” you stammered. 

“Oh, everything alright?” Eunwoo asked, his eyebrows furrowing in worry, noticing your discomfort in both your face and tone 

God, you loved him so much. “Yeah, everything’s fine… I just- um…” you cleared your throat.

His eyes searched your face. “What?”

“I bought a lingerie set” you said. “For you…”

Eunwoo smiled. “Okay? Show me!” he said excitedly.

You bit your lip. “I’m just- I don’t know- I’m not sure if you’ll like it. It- I think it makes me look weird” you said, feeling the insecurities start to creep up on you.

He frowned. “How in the hell would you, the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth, look bad or weird in a lingerie set, are you kidding me?” he asked, kind of offended you’d even insinuate that, even if he hadn’t seen you yet in it. 

You chuckled with a cute blush painted on your cheeks. “Okay…” you said and your fingers went to untie your robe.

“Is it under this?” Eunwoo asked, and you almost laughed at how cute he looked with his eyes blown wide. 

You nodded and quickly took the robe off, letting it fall to your feet.

He let out all the breath he was holding in a rush. “Fuck… baby. Do you even know how perfect you look right now?” he asked. And before you could reply, he grabbed your waist. “Turn around” Eunwoo said, and you clenched around nothing at how demanding he sounded. 

You obeyed and turned around, biting your lip as his eyes wandered around your behind.

You yelped and jumped up when you felt a sharp sting on your ass, meaning your boyfriend had just spanked you. “Shit, babe, I’m hard as fuck” he said, and turned you around by your waist. “You feel it?” he asked you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his crotch.

You bit your lip as you felt his erection through his jeans.

“Do you even know how it makes me feel that this is the first thing I see after coming home from work?” he asked you, pulling you against his chest, your pelvis hitting with the hardness on his pants. 

Eunwoo didn’t even let you answer, instead his lips silenced you in a kiss, inserting his tongue inside your mouth quickly, licking and sucking at your tongue. 

You moaned against his lips and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer towards you.

He backed you against the closet door, your back hitting the wood. His hands went up to your chest, pawing at your breasts, gripping them and pushing them together. 

Eunwoo bit your lip and tugged on it. His fingers toyed with the clasp that sat on your chest, and opened it slowly, leaving your nude torso on display for him. 

He threw his shirt on the floor, feeling hot himself and his mouth immediately attached to your nipples, sucking on your skin, making you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Eunwoo…” you sighed, carding your fingers through his black hair and tugging on it. 

“Fuck, and you thought I wasn’t gonna like this on you?” He said and then tugged your panties to the side, brushing his fingers over your wetness. “You’re so fucking soaked” he chuckled.

“Do something about it, please” you moaned.

“Oh, I will” 

He knelt down on the ground and grabbed your leg, draping it over your shoulder. His fingers pushed the thong to the side and licked over your hole. Your head hit the wooden door as Eunwoo started playing with your clit with his tongue, flicking it. 

“Shit, I’m gonna need you to sit on my cock” he groaned, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to the bed. 

Eunwoo was quick to throw his pants and underwear off his legs, his cock standing up and leaking over his stomach.

He grabbed your hips and made you sit down on his thighs. He pushed the thong to the side and grabbed the open lapels of your baby doll set to inch your chest closer to him. 

You grabbed his dick and probed it on your entrance. The moment you sat down, you both moaned in unison, feeling his mushroom tip hit the spot as soon as he was buried to the hilt inside of you. 

Eunwoo hooked his hands under your thighs and slammed you down on his cock, earning a high pitched whimper from you.

Your nails clawed at his back as he kept on slamming you down, keeping his bounces rhythmic. 

“You like that, baby?” he asked you, his mouth coming to bite at your chest, licking and sucking at your nipples. 

“Y-yeah” you nodded. “Shit, Eunwoo, don’t stop” you whined.

His mouth was busy so he could only groan and nod against your chest. He made a movement with his hips, thrusting even deeper inside of you that made you fall against his face. 

Eunwoo moved so his nose was pressed against the crook of your neck, taking full advantage of the way you were fully slumped on him. 

He rubbed at your clit, trying to get you to orgasm. “Are you close, honey?” he asked you.

You could only nod dumbly as only whimpers were only coming out of your mouth due to your brain that had turned into mush.

He felt your orgasm wash over his dick and he slammed once filled you up, feeling your body almost boneless on top of him.

He let himself drop on the bed on his back, with you on top of him.

“Babe, you okay?” he asked, his hand brushing down your back.

You nodded against his chest. “Better… than ever” you sighed.

He chuckled against your hairline and one of his hands came to scratch your scalp. “Do you believe me now that I find you insanely attractive with these shit on?” Oh you sure as fuck did now.

── .✦

taglist: @annhearttihaehe // @frequentlykit // @alexisfeliz // @jeonginsleftcheek // @yaorzu-blog // @jisunglyricist // @leeknowinggg // @ka0ila // @minghaosimp // @lixies-favorite-cookie // @yn-x-them // @chrizrizz // @madkati // @starzystay // @pancake-freckle // @velvetmoonlght //

i apologize if i can't tag u :(

[aizawasbrazybaby]

❥𓂃𓏧Freak Like Me

𖦹Warnings: Corrupt Cop!Nanami x Fem!Reader, Pet names? (Calls reader Beautiful a lot), Semi-public (car sex), p in v sex, Oral (fem receiving), Very brief mention of blood, Cervix kissing, Dubcon (consent is implied but he doesn’t ask before touching reader)

𖦹Word Count: 1.7k (I had to restrain myself from making it longer🥲)

🫧: Hello everyone sorry for any mistakes I always try to proof read at least twice before posting. Also I’ll be attempting to upload here and WP on Fridays at 5pm est.🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

Summaryᐕ: It was supposed to be a late night traffic stop…only he was off duty and everyone knows what happens after dark.

Air moved deeply through your lungs harshly exiting your nose. Those fluorescent blue and red lights flashed obnoxiously bright, forcing your eyes to shut into a squint. The officer’s tall figure strutted over to your old compact sedan that was honestly hanging on by the grace of god herself. His blonde hair and white skin contrasted the chilled bitter darkness. Fingers tapped the window and signed for it to be rolled down. Your eyes hit the back of your head as you followed the lawful command.

And holy fuck…

A chill ran up your spine. He looked like the finest piece of art man could make- so much so you had to do a double take at the patrol car to see if it was the real deal. That this wasn’t an elaborate prank by some shitty tv show or idiotic influencers that didn’t know how illegal impersonating an officer was.

“Pretty late for a lady like you to be out here dontcha think,” he glanced at the bloody scrubs in your passenger seat, “long night?”

“That easy to tell?” your fingers rubbed at the dark circles under both eyes, “sorry but is your bodycam on?”

A strange mix of a laugh and hum rumbled in his throat, “license and registration ma’am.”

A demand.

Mint intertwined in his cool breath as he let out an annoyed sigh waiting for you to gather your things. As if you initiated the traffic stop on him. He softly snatched at the forms you handed to him.

“What has you out here so late, nurse ____?” His gaze flickered back to the passenger seat.

“Doctor,” you corrected.

“What?”

“It’s Dr._____ I’m not a nurse.”

He grinned, “well, many apologies for my ignorance.” You looked in his narrow eyes and something shifted in you. In both of you. Your pants felt almost suffocating on your throbbing pussy as that honey-like essence pooled to your center.

“I-I just got off work at the hospital,” you pointed behind you, “third twelve hour shift this week. I pulled over to get some sleep, heard somewhere that driving tired is as bad as driving drunk.”

Why’s his stare gotta be so intense? Your mind raced. Eyes lowering to his beautifully plump lips. Watching his tongue swipe teasingly slow over the bottom one before it was held between his teeth.

Good fucking God.

“Have you been drinking tonight?” You could have swore a glimpse of a grin flashed just as quickly as it had disappeared . His calloused fingers softly traced your jawline, thumb running across your lips. A line was crossed. Several lines. But shit it’s been so long since you’d been caressed. And the man before you was so alluring. You leaned into Nanami’s touch- your eyes fluttering shut for a second before burning into his.

“No, officer.”

“Why don’t you step out for me beautiful,” his voice low and seductive. Embarrassment burned through you from how quickly you obeyed. Horny and stupid. Desperate and horny. He looked you up and down then grabbed your hands. Cold to the touch but you didn’t pull away, placing them behind your head, “Lock your fingers.”

Holy hell he was close.

You could feel the heat emanating from his mouth. Circling you he stopped behind, pressing against your back. His belt. The service belt was nowhere to be found. Pressure started at the wrist and worked its way to your waist. Outlining the shape. His fingers trailed over your breasts. so. very. slow. Each finger took its time feeling the buds that hardened under.

Desperation made itself known from a slight gasp that morphed into a whimper, “shit.”

Nanami groaned in response. He walked back around, hands lowering to the fat of your ass gripping and squeezing. He placed a kiss on your cheek and nipped at your jaw.

“Sir,” you glanced at the abandoned strip of road, “not out here.”

His hand pulled to the front rubbing your pussy through your thin sweats. His digits worked their way inside feeling how wet you were. Snatching a moan from your throat that your own ears struggled to recognize. No panties. A bold move on your end.

“Get in the backseat,” his teeth caught on your bottom lip. An arm rounded your waist pulling you away from your car before opening the door for you. He blocked your head from hitting the top of the doorway like he would if sticking you in his squad truck.

Before you could speak your sweats were around your ankles. His eyes looked back at you as he kissed up your thigh, “want me to stop?”

“No!” Your voice was under a shout. Loud. Desperate. And beyond fucking horny for the stranger with his upper half leaning between your legs. The other hanging out the car.

He chuckled, “okay doctor.” His tongue ran up your slit catching the enticing liquid that glazed parts of your skin. Ecstasy swam through your veins and straight to where the man was now sucking your sensitive clit. Hands sliding through his healthy locks he moaned on your cunt. You hissed at the feeling.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

You sat your head up seeing Nanami dig in your pocket and pull out your phone. He flashed the screen and your heart skipped a beat. “Don’t.” From his shit eating grin you knew he wasn’t gonna listen. He firmly pressed the green answer and tossed you the phone.

“Hey JESS,” you stifled the moan that clawed to be set free. The cop pushed your thighs apart, thrusting his middle and ring fingers inside. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden intrusion. Savoring that pain spiked with pleasure.

Is that mommy? Your six year old asked sleepily in the background.

Hey Miss.____ I was just checkin on ya. It’s pretty late just wanted to see if everything was okay

“Y-yes hon everything’s fine just got off work a bit late.”

Nanami unbuttoned his slacks, releasing his erection. Lining himself to your pussy that clenched around nothing. He smiled from ear to ear slowly inching himself deep.

That’s good. Baby Kiri keeps askin for ya wanna say good night before I put her to bed?

“No!” you lowered your tone, taking a fistful of Kento’s shirt, “no need I’ll s-see her when I g-get home.”

He took the phone muting and keeping it on speaker, “lemme hear you beautiful,” his pace increased. Squelching and your squeals filled the car, “fuck darling n-nice and loud. That’s it.”

“Nanami,” you whimpered, “fuck pleaseee.” You dragged.

“Uh uh Kento when I’m fucking you,” he smirked.

Why not? Hello? ___ are you there? Is everything okay?

He thrust one last time before plunging his cock deep inside. And fuck. Fuck. fuck. fuck. His tip was pressing against your cervix. Your legs started to shake slightly but enough where he noticed. And you clenching tight around him had his eyes rolling back and breathing heavy.

Unmute. “I-I’m fine Jess. Just in a bit of a s-situation right now.”

His hips rocked slowly bringing that tight coil closer. His teeth glided over your throat, “gonna drive me crazy hang up that damn phone,” you could sense his lust from his deep whisper.

Should I send someone out there? What’s happening?

“No need, ‘mtaking good care of her,” he growled at the nanny.

Who is this? Where’s ___??

“Gonna have to, ah, call you b-back.” You tried your best not to let it out but that moan slipped through and no doubt she picked up. Nanami took your phone tossing it atop those dirty scrubs.

Oh…ohh, it clicked. She hung up immediately.

He slammed his hips into yours. Faster. Stronger. Until that coil grew so tight in the both of you that you were shouting each other's names as you came. His hot cum filling you up so full and you leaving your cream all over him that is splattered just below his belly button. Drained of all his energy and stamina he rocked into you riding out the high to both of your orgasms.

“Kento,” you said breathlessly, “thank you.” Of course he didn’t know what you were thanking him for. Didn’t know you’d been so deprived from a man’s touch. You craved some kind of sexual interaction. Didn’t know he relieved so much of the pent up stress from work and being a single mother.

“Any time beautiful.” He panted but managed to keep a smile on his handsome face. He pulled out looking for something, anything to help clean you up. When his eyes landed on you, you pointed to the front seat.

“Got a few baby wipes in the glove compartment.”

He nodded. You watched as he climbed out zippering his pants as his head fell back. Taking in the cool night breeze. God he was something to behold. Walking around the front he took out the pack of wipes and jogged back to you.

“Does anything hurt? Are you alright?” He asked back to his monotone as he wiped your thighs and intimate parts.

“I’m alright.”

“Think you can walk?” he shimmied your sweats back up, shoving something in the pocket. Before you could even answer he pulled you to the edge of the car by your legs making you yelp. He held you like a bride before placing you in the driver seat.

“Hope so.” You said quietly. His hand grabbed the back of your head through the window pulling you in a kiss. Long and passionate. If you knew anything it was that this man was gonna be the death of you. You felt yourself getting wet all over again.

“G’night…officer Nanami.” You looked deeply in his eyes.

“Get home safe.” He didn’t smile or break the contact. He climbed back in his car shutting off the lights and starting his car back up. Digging in your pocket you pulled out his business card that had his number written neatly in blue pen on the backside. Your mouth gaped open and looked out your window as he was passing you. Driving slow he seen the card in your hand and winked at you. That shit eating grin back on his lips.

Staring daggers back at the card you wondered how long you were really out for.

[thatdeadaquarius]

Friend. F r I e N d. Your smol brother Razor hcs made my insides flippyflop. I beg, I plead...

My daughter QiQi? Holding onto my sleeve while we go picking herbs so she knows she can get home? Getting her a little bag with a notebook and pen so she always has memory?

SAYING THE LINE FROM WHERE THE WIND LEADS AND ASKING FOR A HUG?!

Scolding Baizhu for letting her go herb picking when he knows she probably won't remember the way home?!?! Because Archons man like NO.

Hello!! Flippyflop??!! Over my writing ??!! 🥺🥺 <3

AND FOR MY NEXT TRICK... WE SHALL DO... THE OTHER CHILD THAT NEEDS A CARING ADULT!!

Also srry im rlly slow getting to yalls asks i promise it will come and i love u all for giving me asks <33

(*´▽)ノ✨️ NOW LETS GO ! ! ✨️

(Now before yall come at me, I am aware Baizhu does care about her, but BUT, he still is studying her/canonically has ulterior motives, and lets her pick herbs when she may not be able to find her way back, also he doesnt strike me as the type to be super affectionate/parental, as cute as it is to write him that way)

What a b l e s s e d ask, this is so cute i love all the kids in genshin their adorable

So... im kinda a consistent Sagau writer, and i love requests like this! But also, im not sure if u guys want me to still apply Sagau/Isekai setting to these requests on top of what was initially asked??

So i will pretty much always make all requests will be SAGAU/ISEKAI Reader based, UNLESS YOU STATE OTHERWISE IN THE ASK!!

Oh Qiqi, another child product of ✨️traumatic events✨️

(Future me after finishing this: oh god what monster have I unleashed upon the world, upon the sagau tag, upon my innocent followers...)

Damn ur lucky u didnt land in Jueyun Karst or nothin

Or on one of the many mountains/cliffs all over Liyue

Its honestly more a shock u arent on a mountain bc theres so many,,

Ur pretty close to Liyue Harbor luckily, not in town, but sort of at the base of Mt Tianheng by the looks of it, almost behind it

Its about sunset too, WOW

Liyue Harbor is hella bigger than in game, holy fuck its actually a huge port city

Should u go into the city??

Ur not sure, do they speak English??

...Wait u dont got a single mora

U cant even get an inn rn RIP

?? Should u just? Find a cave?? To sleep in??

But what about monsters??!

(Call Xiao? Nah he'd freak tf out on u, Shenhe maybe? She is the only option u can think of that seems like she would possibly take in a random homeless traveler from another world, mostly bc she could beat ur ass no matter what)

So,, Shenhe? Maybe? Ur still not sold on the idea but maybe u could gather something out here to sell on a street corner?? Or to Wanmin maybe for fresh ingredients?

Yeah sure why not,

With that, u just wander around the area, checking out all the plants and animals

The fennec foxes are so adorable

Oh shit some mint and sweet flower, finally

Oh hell yeah a sunsettia, u got food now 💪

U hold onto some of it to sell (including a low violet grass hell yeah)

Crunchin and munchin ur way thru Liyue now, it isnt until u find a particularly wooded area that u hear ur first sign of human life

...

Stand corrected,

Unlife...?

A soft hum, almost a lullaby, comes from Qiqi as she picks up other flowers youve never seen before (ooo new liyue plants)

Should u just leave? She seems busy and u dont wanna distract her bc she might forget to go back to her task..

Wait a minute.

On the other hand,

Now you can finally achieve one of your many goals in Genshin that you couldn't as a player.

Help Qiqi collect herbs and guide her back,

And scold Baizhu. >:)

.

(whats he gonna do?? call the milieth on you??? for some rude person who doesnt like the way he makes a child wander off, who has memory issues and cant find her way back??? thats what you thought)

.

Approaching the tiny zombie girl, you purposely step on a branch to let her know ur there

...she doesn't even flinch, instead she vvveerrryy slooowwwlllyyy lifts her head up from her bent position

Her big doe eyes 🥺

They dont look empty, or dead just kinda dreamy

She tilts her head, the adepti paper covering an eye

Qiqi: "...do I know you? ..you feel... familiar..."

Oh this is crazy, she sounds exactly like in game, but instead of in a screen, her voice is in front of you

You respond "Oh I don't think so?" You introduce yourself,

"Are you alone out here? The sun is setting..."

It didnt strike you until now, but the zombie girl is so... so... tiny

OMGGGG😫💘

I mean, you knew the kids were small, but not 5-6 year old small!!!

Qiqi stands, and you see her holding a basket in the crook of her other arm, full of greenery

(some u recognize like violet grass, horsetails, but others are completely new, wow u gotta wander around Liyue after u find somewhere to sleep tonight to check out how much more fleshed out it is irl...)

The little cryo user is the picture perfect image of sweetness 💝✨️

The paper falls to the side, and both of her gentle pink eyes look up at you (💔)

Qiqi answers slowly, "...I messed up my routine, I forgot to get herbs this morning...so I couldn't make the medicine for today... I'm getting them now instead.."

She turns to the right, then left, and blinks a few times (💔💔💔)

She kinda looks like she forgot the way back,, you figure you might as well ask

"Do you want help getting back to town? The pharmacy right?"

Qiqi looks back at you, and nods, "Okay...thank you..."

And

And!!

She takes YOUR HANNNDDDD 😫😫😫💔💔💔

Her small fingers are cold, and they wrap around only two of your fingers

SOBBING

Trying to hold the squeal inside urself, you turn and begin to walk off together, following the path around Mt. Tianheng into town

♤

HELL YEAH QIQI TIME LETS GOOO

After hearing about your homeless situation, Qiqi and Baizhu offer the guest room for the night, also partially as a thank you for helping Qiqi (thank fuck theyre that nice)

After talking on the way over,

Turns out that Baizhu lives just out of town of Liyue, (not found in the game, was is it with not showing characters houses...) that way he has some greenery around his house, and has a garden out back :D 🌱

Baizhu just gets this strange familiar feeling from you (it almost reminds him of,, seeing a regular customer that has been to see him hundreds of times...) that convinces him to offer you a job at the pharmacy, in exchange for living in the guest room for awhile ! ! WOO

MISSION 1:

FIND SOMEWHERE TO SLEEP + GET A JOB, COMPLETED

♧

Now MISSION 2:

GET MONEY, GET FOOD, SCOLD BAIZHU, LOVE QIQI

Literally on the first day out ur like,, Baizhu.

My boss, my friend, my buddy, my homie, my guyyyyy

U gotta let me go with Qiqi from now on, she will literally get lost hoe. 😐

Tapping ur foot at him and everything,

He's a little intimidated tbh bc ur so upfront about it, and agrees

U lowkey shame his parenting (and he actually feels quilty wow)

WITHIN THE FIRST COUPLE DAYS SHE ALSO SAID THIS!!

"Since we first met, I have had a warm feeling inside. Not the kind of warmth that makes me feel rotten. The other kind of warm. The one that happens inside my heart. Thank you. I am happy. Sadly I only recognize the current you. If I forget you... No. I will order myself to remember you."

AHHHHHHHH PERFECT CHILD <333

(Once again, if u read my Razor post, another person who can't quite articulate what you are as the Creator, but just has a feeling about you that ur cozy and safe :')

◇

SO QIQI CANONICALLY HAS A NOTEBOOK ALREADY!!

(U help her press flowers in it to both leave inside as a pleasent surprise when she forgets about them, and attach some to the front 💖)

And SHE HAS A SCHEDULE.

In the morning, she goes herb picking, then makes medicine, and then does stretches at the end of the day before bed

(At least im pretty sure thats it, it was like 3 things so she could remember easily)

ON LIKE,, THE FIRST FEW DAYS WITH HER, SHE STARTS TO FOLLOW U AROUND MORE AND MORE LIKE A LITTLE DUCKLING

And she even says "...I started memory training exercises recently. So don't worry, I won't forget who you are." 🥲💘

◇

Qiqi seemed excited to tell u all the plants u dont recognize and what they do in medicine,

U mostly think that bc she walked and talked a little faster,

her emotions arent super obvious bc apparently her facial muscles arent super flexible... :/

(she later on after she trusts you more, will sometimes let u rub her little cheeks and massage her face to let her have more range, she looks like a content kitten those times 😭😭)

But when ur not out and about Liyue's nature with Qiqi,

U do little odd jobs around Liyue, like dog walking, delivering peoples' medicine, and u even registered w/the Adventurer's Guild so u could take on small commissions :D

U used ur money to buy ingredients to cook food for urself and the household (bc Baizhu cant make anything besides soup and tea apparantly srsly how is this man alive)

And thru a series of trial and error (and consulting Xiangling..)

U made coconut milk!!! ✨️🥥🥛

Qiqi loved. It. Every. Time.

She's not tall enough to reach the kitchen counters w/o a stool, but she can peek her little head over it and put her fingers on the edge, which she does everytime u make it 😫😫🥺🥺

She has a 6th sense for everytime u make it, no matter where she is in the house/nearby lol

It was also one of the things she wrote down in her notebook that she didnt wanna forget LMAO

Next to a reminder that she knows you + other facts abt u, is "can make coconut milk"

You can bribe her with it too lol

QIQI BEST KITCHEN HELPER

Shes already Baizhu's assistant, so she is great at cutting, chopping, and prepping ingredients

She insists on helping u everytime, she'll even delay her morning routine for u to make breakfast <3

(U also make sure to remind her to eat and hydrate consistently, bc thatd be hard af to keep track of w/ memory issues, i would know 💀)

◇

U also used ur money to buy clothes for urself and her!! <3

Also apparently u still have access to the character menu? And ur inventory?? And quests???

U CAN UPGRADE QIQI

(YESS YESSS- MAKE HER THE STRONGEST CHILD IN THE WORLD, GODLIKE STRENGTH THE IMMORTAL UNDYING QIQI AGENDA HAHAHAHA)

(Her outfits show up in her outfit screen!! theres just kinda a hologram button hovering over her chest at all times..)

She seems rlly fond of upgrading her, her weapon, and artifacts bc she likes to be a stronk 💪girl to protect ppl she loves aw <3

(SHE SAID SHE WAS HAPPY TO BE ABLE TO PROTECT U BETTER THE FIRST TIME U ASCENDED HERRRR 😭💘

She also likes to help u out with commissions too, it brings her some variety in her day that shes become fond of!!

(Shes also become fond of you and all the exciting things ur doing)

AND

Ur quests menu is rlly helpful for you but also her!! U just gently reroute her or remind her everytime she needs it :)

(she has slowly gone from asking you what she forgot/what she was supposed to be doing, to just... LOOKING UP AT YOUUUUU FOR THE ANSWERRRR W/O SAYING ANYTHINGGGGG 💔💔💔💔💔💔)

◇

Bc u got jackshit all else to do in ur freetime, other than exploring, u started picking up some hobbies thatll benefit the both of you!

U bought some fabric and whatnot to make Qiqi a backpack!! So she doesnt have to carry around the herb basket anymore

(the ones being sold were too expensive, and werent quite right for her anyway, but u did stab urself enough times that Baizhu gave u bandages..)

You give it to her on her birthday!! (she also remembered yours!! She gave u herbal medicine and a necklace of gemstones she handmade like noctilous jade and cor lapis cries)

It has lots of pockets, bc Qiqi also likes to get interesting rocks or non-medicinal flowers to give you while yall are outside <3

She loves the backpack, u saw her make the

♡tiniest♡

Smile ever, which made it even cuter to see

(She also just, held it to her chest the whole day 😭)

◇

ALSO BC SHE STRIKES ME AS A SLOW BURN TYPE OF PERSON TO LOVE SOMEONE (idk if u get that feeling but thats what it seems like to me esp with her memory needing time to remember a new person, she apparently canonically cant always remember Baizhu's face??)

SO A RANDOM DAY AFTER ABOUT A MONTH AND A HALF, YALL WERE ABOUT TO GO HERB PICKING AGAIN AS USUAL,

WHEN SHE TOOK UR SLEEVE AND JUST,, STAYED THERE THE WHOLE TIME,,

EVEN WHEN SHE WAS HERB PICKING-

🫂🫂🫂

Was that your soul leaving your body? Maybe 🤷‍♂️

But when yall r in a crowd of Liyueans and tourists, she straight up latches onto ur hand like a vice grip

She WILL NOT lose you, and ur holding back just as hard, you WILL NOT lose ur amnesiac child!!!

She likes to come into town with u when u go bc while shes not a fan of crowds, she can deal with them a lot better when ur there 🥺

Plus she wants to be able to look out for you!!

SUCH A SWEETHEARTTT

When u asked why she didnt like crowds the first time yall went SHE SAID

"Some people want to take advantage of me. Others are terrified of me. But you... You are not like any of those people."

QIIIIQQQIIIIIII MY BELOVEDDDD CHILDDDD 🥲🥲🥲😭😭😭😭

(ALL OF THESE ARE CANON VOICELINES BTW EXCEPT FOR YALLS FIRST MEETING AT THE TOP!!!)

♡

Ok so she was already pretty strong before you, but now esp since u started upgrading her-

Qiqi is hella strong and has great stamina

U saw this in action in real time when Hu Tao was strolling down the path near where yall were herb picking off to the side

Hu Tao and Qiqi like... locked eyes-

U were looking down at plants but noticed Qiqi not moving, and looked up to see the most intense staring contest ever LMAO

AND LIKE SOME KIND OF LIKE BIRD OR SQURRIEL WHEN THEY LIKE FREEZE AND THEN BOLT WHEN U ARENT EXPECTING IT THEY ARE OFF LMFAO

QIQI IS RUNNING FOR THE HILLS, ITS LITERALLY INSANE TO WATCH HER BE SO FAST AHSHAKKALDFH

HU TAO IS ALSO FAST BUT LIKE THERES STILL A GOOD AMOUNT OF DISTANCE BETWEEN THEM-

AS U FINALLY GET OVER THE SHOCK, U RUN AFTER THEM LOL

THEY QUICKLY OUT PACE UR SLOW ASS AND UR HUNCHED OVER DYING AND JUST BEFORE THEY GET OUT OF RANGE U HEAR-

"YOU HAVE TO LET ME PUT YOU TO REST, DON'T WORRY YOU'LL LIKE IT DOWN THERE THE DIRT IS NICE AND COLD!!"

AND AN INDIGNANT "No!"

LMAO HU TAO GIVES UP 2 HOURS LATER, AND QIQI WAS LITERALLY RUNNING AND CLIMBING THE WHOLE TIME LMFAO

◇

SO IDK IF YALL SEEN IT BUT THERES A TRAILER OUT ABOUT XIAO i think??

AND AT ONE POINT QIQI CANONICALLY SAYS SHE CARRIED HIM WHEN HE WAS PASSED OUT BACK TO THE PHARMACY 💀

U WERE THERE WHEN YALL FOUND XIAO

it was kinda shocking to finally have ran into him (bc u figured there was no way he would come down to see some rando human, even if u had almond tofu)

AND HE'S PASSED OUT??!!?!?!

Top ten most disturbing images: Xiao face first on the ground, out of it

And while ur like panicking "omfg how tf am i gonna carry this mf all the way back to the pharmacy, omg what happened, oh jesus this is insane its literally XIAO and he's PASSED OUT-"

Qiqi in the background like, "hup"

And just arranges him in a piggyback carry, his legs and arms sticking straight out in front of her, his ass almost touching the GROUNNNDDD😭😭😭

You: *shocked pikachu face meme LMAOOO

◇

I LOVE THAT THIS IS CANON OHMYGODTHIS MIGHT BETHE FUNNIEST SHIT OUT OF GENSHIN LORE/STORY YET

♤

Bonus: Zhongli has been going in-fucking-sane trying to locate where u are lol, Hu Tao literally made him take a few days off bc he was pacing around the harbor so much 😭

He always seems to get to where you are, just as you leave the area (apparently Qiqi's deathlike presence throws off ur very full of life one)

Literally as soon as you landed (woke up?) On Liyue soil, he was hyper aware of you

The other adepti are searching the rest of Liyue just in case ur someone where else

Lol wonder how long it took him to realize u were just workin at Bubu Pharmacy LMAO

Tell me what to write! :) ♡

Reminder: A 100+ Followers celebration POLL!!

HOLY FUCK!!

OML

OMFG

SATAN ON A STICK-

THIS IS SO LONG 😭????? WHAT HAPPENED

THIS THING AS LONG AS A FALL INTO THE ABYSS

HELL-

WHAT THE FUCK

WELL NOW I KNOW WHY IT TOOK ME SO DAMN LONG TO POST ANYTHING FOR A FEW DAYS BC THIS IS A FREAK OF NATURE

I ALREADY MADE THE LAST ONE TOO LONG AND NOW HERE WE ARE CRYING

I hope u enjoyed this fucking monster anon sob-

oh my god im actually shocked you guys, i just scrolled up and down this thing-

I can't even like, flick it once and let it scroll really fast and reach the top u know what i mean?? 😟😰🙂🙃🥲

I just,, i had so many ideas, and as i typed and tried to get them all down i-

uh,, aNyWaY,,, enjoy yalls week guys...😟😃 distantsobbing

Cheers,

🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

♡ the beloveds ♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza

[cgsf]

Men's Hockey (RPF) fanfiction recs:

Leon Draisaitl/Matthew Tkachuk [Part 2]

"wondering how many times can a heart melt" 🔒 (E) by slowboat | 2,551 | Wet lips parted, neck pink from beard burn. Head thrown back into the pillow but still watching Leon from under half-closed lids like Leon’s the Second Coming of Christ, like it’s detrimental for Matthew to keep his eyes on him, like he, too, is desperately trying to commit the view to memory.

"wrong when it's right" 🔒 (E) by daisysusan | 8,172 | Leon is drunk. Which—glancing around the locker room—plenty of guys aren’t sober, and for that matter Matthew isn’t either, but Leon is among the drunkest. Maybe the drunkest. Not sloppy, really, but it’s obvious in his loose movements and the way he smiles. And to think, Matthew thought he was going to forget how much he knew about Leon’s body.

"linger" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 71,255 | Matthew doesn’t fuck people who hate him, and he doesn’t fuck hockey players, and he doesn’t fuck alphas. He definitely doesn't fuck alphas when he's in heat. Except for, apparently, Leon Draisaitl.

"punch-drunk" 🔒 (E) by isozym | 3,142 | “Maybe I have a big secret crush on you,” Matthew says with a smile. “On pace for a hundred and forty points, so hot.” “Bullshit,” Leon snorts. His hand drops lower and squeezes Matthew’s ass. “You got me,” Matthew says. “I looked at you and figured your dick was big and uncut and would fit good in the back of my throat.”

"press my head between your shoulder blades" 🔒 (E) by puckthisshift | 13,559 | Leon brings a boy home to Mallorca with him. It was supposed to be some cross between a sexcation and a romantic getaway. Somehow, it turns out better. And more embarrassing for... mostly for Leon.

"Stud" 🔒 (E) by the_pole_position | 959 | "What the fuck?" Brady said, looking over at him in concern. Then, once he spotted Matthew's flaming cheeks, suspicion. "What did you do." It wasn't even a question that he'd done something, which was fair.

"dim the lights and think of you" 🔒 (E) by allthatsings | 2,039 | “Come home with me.” “What?” It’s warmups and Matthew Tkachuk is leering at Leon from the other side of the red line.

"the first law of motion" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 5,568 | Matthew finishes brushing his teeth and spits in the sink. From this close, he smells like sweat, sex, the mint of his toothpaste. “I’m gonna shower too,” he says, reaching for the waistband of the basketball shorts he put on just to come in here, like Leon wasn’t riding his cock half an hour ago. “You staying?” It’s a rhetorical question. Even so, Leon wonders what would happen if he gave the wrong answer.

"your temporary touch" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 5,462 | Leon didn't even want to go to Florida.

"contact high" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 10,065 | So, something is wrong with him. Obviously. Leon’s never heard of anything like this, of feeling overheated and overwhelmed and out of control over your own body. Matthew touching him seems to fix it, though. If Leon were in his right mind, he’d hate that.

"Odour" 🔒 (E) by CoffeeHound91 | 32,201 | Matthew is a Null. He thinks that makes him nothing. Leon disagrees.

"i don't speak german but i can if you like" 🔒 (E) by wheelsnipecellysboys | 3,355 | “Ich spreche kein Englisch, du trottel.” “Woah,” Matthew says unintelligently, putting his hands up in surrender. “Holy shit, what is that? German? Swedish? Fuck.” He slides his martini glass away and grabs the one that this man had bought him, fingers picking at the olives again. “That’s hot.”

"Crowd Pleaser" 🔒 (E) by Helenish | 3,662 | “Best you ever had,” Matthew said once, because he was a dick.

"Wildcard" 🔒 (E) by wearemany | 21,124 | “Anything this guy wants,” he yells, tilting his head towards Draisaitl, “I’m buying.”

"roughed up in the afterglow" 🔒 (E) by notthequiettype | 5,553 | "Fuck," Matthew says, and laughs again, a dry nothing of a sound. "Why is this so awkward?" "I don't know," Leon says, and lets his shoulders drop, shoves his knuckle into his eye. "Jesus."

"follow you down" 🔒 (M) by foundfamily | 11,739 | “Who’s looking after you?” Leon bristles. “Nobody. I’m a grown man.” “I could come out for a few days.” Leon waits for the punchline, sure he must be joking, but Matthew stays quiet, lets the offer linger.

"static" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 1,392 | It all happens on autopilot: punching in an address into Uber, sliding into a backseat, walking over a threshold. One minute he was on the ice, watching the puck go into an empty net as Matthew yanked on his stick, holding him back; the next he was here, standing in Matthew’s bedroom, goosebumps dotting his skin. Even in Florida, he's cold.

"pull me closer (we ain't ever getting older)" 🔒 (E) by ohtempora | 11,503 | Here's what Leon knows about Matthew Tkachuk: He's annoying to play against, especially for a freshman. Especially for a true freshman. He got in a shoving match in an exhibition game against Acadia. He's top on his team in points, and he's going to be a top-ten pick in the upcoming draft. Doesn’t help that he plays for Leon’s biggest rival. His name is getting thrown around for Hobey contention, and Leon can’t take some freshman winning the award he's wanted two years running.

"push-pull" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 2,765 | Matthew can’t help glancing at Leon’s thumb, at the path it's tracing as it dips under the hem of his sleeve. It’s a casually possessive gesture, staking out a square inch of territory. It puts him in mind of two months ago, when they were sitting on the couch at Leon’s place, drinking the beers Leon offered before they got down to the reason Matthew was there; Leon’s arm had draped over the back of the couch, his fingers resting in the notch of Matthew’s shoulder in a way they had never done before, and Matthew had sat there, fist choking the neck of his beer bottle as he tried not to go crazy from wanting to pull away from it. From wanting more of it.

"Bad Habit" 🔒 (M) by ClaraxBarton | 2,295 | Matthew was angry, horny and lonely. Not a great combination in his hometown, during an event that threw an even bigger spotlight on him than usual in a town that was absolutely a hockey town, no matter what people wanted to say. So, his usual go-to for getting rid of the angry, horny, lonely feelings - hooking up with a stranger - was problematic in a lot of ways. Not the least of which was finding the time between all of the everything he had to do.

"Bloodletting" 🔒 (M) by Helenish | 3,781 | They’d been happy. They’d won a lot of hockey games together.

"make this bed get squeaky" 🔒 (E) by puckthisshift | 8,674 | The Oilers win their series against the Flames and Leon feels like he deserves a reward. Showing up at Tkachuk’s house for a booty call feels like the natural next step.

"Opposite of Nothing" (E) by angry_geno_is_score | 10,393 | “Hey,” Tkachuk calls across the red line during warm-ups, the night before the first of three exhibition games Calgary and Edmonton will play against each other in the next couple weeks. “Wanna fuck?” Leon knew he was asking for it by skating so close to the Calgary side of the ice. “What?” he demands, ice spraying as he skids to a stop so he can turn to face Tkachuk fully.

"call it what you want" 🔒 (M) by fannyann | 13,034 | When Matthew sees the photos, he laughs about the timing until he cries. It’s the morning the Oilers are set to play the Blues and he should probably be angry or panicked or appalled that someone would violate their privacy like this. But mostly, Matthew’s just disappointed he couldn’t even be outed with a guy who kept his word.

"lift your hearts to the horizon" 🔒 (M) by puckthisshift | 14,583 | In which Matthew slut-shames Leon’s wandering heart, Leon makes declarations like the romance novel hero he is, and we ignore the rules of physics in favor of magic.

"broken glass" 🔒 (E) by dilangley | 13,794 | “So it’s going to be like that,” Leon said, a statement, not a question. He had thought otherwise; after all, the ranks of wolves in professional hockey was small, a brotherhood spanning across organizations in allegiance deeper than team colors. “I can’t make exceptions. Not even for Leon Draisaitl.”

"cartography of light and undead" 🔒 (M) by lighthousetowers | 22,582 | Two consenting adult vampires beat each other up in a St. Louis back alley, until they don't. This? Is a love story.

"malt" 🔒 (E) by unsay | 4,044 | "It's nice to meet you. I have heard many good things,” Barkov says, diplomatically, while they both try to pretend that his closest acquaintance with Leon to date hasn’t been by way of the scratches down Matthew’s back.

"last dress rehearsal" 🔒 (E) by unsay | 3,257 | “Nah, c’mon, I think it’s cute,” Matthew says. Leon feels the back of his neck go hot. “You’re, like, really trying to get yourself wifed up here.”

"better than before" 🔒 (E) by bropunzeling | 4,704 | "Well,” Matthew says, once he can get his breath back. “That was alright.” Next to him, the sheets rustle. Matthew turns his head to the side and watches Leon push himself up on one elbow. There’s a wrinkle right between his eyebrows. “Alright,” he repeats slowly.

"feeling all hell" 🔒 (M) by litaf1101 | 7,405 | Leon and Matthew are doing a terrible job at being exes.

"never get far" 🔒 (E) by ohtempora | 4,110 | After the Flames get bounced from the playoffs, Matthew gets off the ice, gets about twenty minutes to be pissed off in the locker room, grits his way through his media availability, and gets the call. When Draisaitl walks into the room, Matthew honestly doesn't know which one of them is more surprised.

"plans in a warmer town" 🔒 (M) by ohtempora | 2,057 | When you consider how strongly the odds were stacked against them, Matthew has no idea how they pulled this off.

"brakeless" 🔒 (E) by ohtempora | 8,117 | Whatever is linking them together—biology or lust or something bigger, something Matthew can’t begin to understand—falls into place. Matthew says, “This isn’t supposed to happen.”

"catch me, I'm falling" 🔒 (E) by puckthisshift | 9,852 | Matthew wakes up alone and confused the morning after saying Red to his one-night stand. He’s planning on going right to Biosteel Camp, but someone demands to take care of him.

"rough dream?" 🔒 (M) by reticent | 7,248 | “Would you believe me if I said I was in, like, a Groundhog Day kind of situation?” Matthew sounds strangely serious. Which Leon doesn’t really understand, because Matthew’s not stupid, and: “Time loops don’t exist.”

"in from the cold" 🔒 (E) by yourblues | 4,654 | Matthew says, “Love what you’ve done with the place.” This is a joke. The joke is that Leon’s house in Edmonton looks exactly the same as it did the last time he was here, which was almost two years ago, when Matthew was still property of the Calgary Flames.

"one-off" 🔒 (E) by thelightwithout | 564 | so the thing is that, when it happens, it’s not really supposed to be anything.

"the sweetest dream would never do" 🔒 (E) by NoodleE | 1,255 | It’s not the first time a guy whose nose Matthew wants to break has shown up in a sex dream – not that Matthew wants to break his nose right now anyways. He’s enjoying this way too much.

°°°°°°

"act like I don't care what you did" 🔒 (E) by puckthisshift | 6,399 | Matthew had grabbed Draisaitl’s thigh mostly by accident, but he wasn’t going to let that asshole know about that. But after making some promises, he finagles a bid for the winner’s room so he can deliver. And then some. How else is a guy supposed to get an apology out of Draisaitl?

"barons" 🔒 (M) by dilangley | 42,768 | Matthew Tkachuk coaches Leon Draisaitl and Trevor Zegras for the NHL’s newest expansion.

More to be added.

[maybeimamuppet]

I LOST THE ASK IM SORRY ANON BUT HERE

REGINA

favorite thing about them

heheeeeeehoooo i’m a lesbian but honestly she has so much like depth to her in a way that’s not immediately obvious and it’s really interesting as a writer getting to explore that beyond canon

least favorite thing about them

i don’t like that i relate to her!!!! i don’t like the idea of being mean and she is and i’m entirely convinced she and i have the same personality disorder and i am terrified that i’m like her. some people have said it and i just hate that it might be true

but like as a character in and of herself it’s how she uses people for her own gain. that’s not cool boo

favorite line

“boo, you whore” from the movie

“that’s what i keep trying to explain to the president on twitter but he blocked me” from the show

i can’t remember enough of what she says in the new movie rn but i’ll find smth later i’m sure lol

brOTP

damian. she and damian both love taylor swift and they listen to every song together and fangirl together and also damian gets her into musicals. regina likes the dark gritty ones with good music like les mis and little shop and damian likes the classics (obvs)

OTP

post redemption arc i ship her with like every woman in this. like any combo of gretchen and karen, i’m an absolute SUCKER for cadina (like i’m literally on my knees begging for cadina fic prompts please), rejanis is. it has potential not my fav but i do partake from time to time.

but like aaron would just turn out bad nobody really likes shane or kevin and damian. is gay. so none of the men lol

nOTP

this woman is GAY so again any of the guys lol. also if it’s done wrong rejanis can be real icky and i don’t like that

random headcanon

she can juggle. cady is the only one who knows and regina will absolutely kill her if she lets it slip

unpopular opinion

she is a victim who made the wrong choices and not the monster a lot of people make her out to be. she is not the villain of the story she is the villain of her own life by fault of her own mind which is the fault of her upbringing and she is making the only choices she knows how which just so happen to hurt a lot of people. she absolutely can be redeemed and she deserves it. which is why the bus doesn’t just straight up kill her.

song i associate with them

i think i said this for janis but monster from frozen has very much internal regina vibes to me that she like is terrified of letting anyone else see. also i know it’s about something VERY DIFFERENT but all grown up from bare seems like it would really speak to her. and also just all of renee’s songs bc duh

favorite picture of them

it’s a gif and this is how i lost the post last time but uh

like. holy shit.

DAMIAN

favorite thing about them

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again but that boy drinks his loving janis sarkisian juice every morning as part of a balanced breakfast. he knows they’re each others person and i think he navigates their admittedly strange relationship really well. 

and also i love that this ~17 year old fat openly gay kid has SO MUCH confidence in himself. could he be overcompensating and actually have a lot internally that he doesn’t like about himself? yes absolutely . but the way he chooses to handle himself with such grace and confidence as he navigates such a complex web of social issues is really admirable to me and i don’t think he gets enough credit :))

least favorite thing about them

some of the stereotypes aren’t like super cool but like they had to come from somewhere so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

favorite line

damian is what got me into this show tbh i have so many

but i thiiiiiink it’s gotta be either “and they are more addictive than opioids and girl scout thin mints combined” (also hot take but i’ve been a girl scout for 18 years and thin mints SUCK)

OR

“did she just leave while i was actively caring about her? no. / she’s leaving! just like my DAD.”

honestly just like all of stop all of cautionary tale just him i love him yes

brOTP

besides the obvious answer of janis again i would say regina. but also he and gretchen get coffee at least once a week and bond over dances and choreography and whatnot and he and karen are joined at the hip whenever they’re together and you cannot tell me otherwise. and cady is basically his little sister

OTP

THEATRE BOY FROM THE NEW MOVIE OMGGGGG but also like. i don’t really know lol

i usually write him as being with aaron but that’s bc when i was writing like three months in i asked and all my (four) readers at the time said they wanted damiaaron it was not my first pick. but it has grown on me a lot and i think they’re super cute together

nOTP

i am terrified of the amount of romantic fic out there for him and janis?? like y’all ran face first into the point and hit ur heads so hard u still couldn’t see it huh

random headcanon

he kicked janis’ front teeth out in tap class when they were five and janis still has a small scar on her lip

unpopular opinion

i know i write about it a lot and stuff but making him trans feels really reductive of his personality sometimes. we need more trans rep obviously and i love people being able to take characters like him and feel seen but i question it with him in particular a lot. similar vibes to people who make matilda trans i just dk. lots of complicated feelings about it

also that he is the best goddamn character in the whole thing

song i associate with them

uhhhhhh for whatever reason 9 to 5 by dolly parton?? and jolene are the first two to pop into my head lol idk why

oh and also better work bitch by britney spears (i think??)

favorite picture of them

[minty-tea-soup]

Spiders can have little a toothpaste, as a treat

So this was from god knows how long ago but considering I might actually start posting on this app I figured hell I'll start with the spider toothpaste rant as a treat.

It starts when I sit down to write a Spider-man and Daredevil fanfiction where Peter Parker gets changed very young and due to the world being a bit more dystopian after the Sokovia Accords May Parker has to give Peter to Matt to take care of and hide. Because Peter isn't just given powers, he is definitely a whole lot more spider. Extra limbs, eyes, venomous, picks up spider mannerisms etc.

So where does toothpaste come to play here? Well most toothpastes are mint and I happened to know Mint was a good spider repellent cause I love mint and dislike spiders near me.

And I went: wouldn't it be funny is little Peter didn't want to brush teeth cause mint to Matt's confusion.

It was supposed to be one maybe two lines to show that Peter was very much spider now.

Then I was looking up stuff that was repellent for spiders and I see baking soda. And I go…. fuck that's what's in non-minty toothpaste/the only toothpaste I know that isn't minty off the top of my head. That page also tells me that something called DE is instant kill for spiders. I go "what's DE?" Turns out it is an instant kill for spiders and great for dental health so much so that it is often used for homemade toothpaste so you don't have to buy all the chemicals and some toothpastes already have it.

So Fuck. I'm lucky that Matt didn't instantly make Peter sick/kill him.

Then I think wait what about salt water?

Instant kill for spiders.

Holy fuck why does everything kill spiders. This thing is curing my arachnophobia cause hot damn spiders are shit at surviving it seems. And like yes I know they can survive fine but they cannot survive toothpaste via my google searches. And now I'm also very very into trying and finding a toothpaste that Matt can give Peter and not have Peter reject cause it makes him sick.

Also at this point I've decided that all of this is going into the fic, cause I'm doing all this research and it's funny.

Finally I find charcoal toothpaste that doesn't have any instant kills or repellents in it. Charcoal's only use against spiders is that if you are not it can help draw out the venom but you can do that with snakes too. Great amazing.

Then just to be sure cause I've been cursed to be the curious cat that keeps using up it's lives for research I look at what is on charcoal.

Sawdust.

I look up what type of wood sawdust is normally made from.

Pine, for, spruce, hemlock, CEDAR, and redwood.

Cedar is repellent for spiders which means there is a 1 in 5 chance that everytime that Matt tries the toothpaste on Peter, Peter has a reaction cause heightened senses remember? So now something that was supposed to be two lines and funny is about a page and Matt is feeling tested by god because I'm feeling tested by god.

So I have him make his own charcoal and in turn his own charcoal toothpaste and declare himself victorious at being able to find spider safe toothpaste.

Will anyone appreciate the effort?

Probably not.

Matt will continue to scream into pillows.

However this rant became my go to silly rant during Covid and is almost two years old now? and when meeting new people cause it's funny and it lets me see how they react when I info dump. Like my dad who told me I was wasting my time verses my friend who has now heard it like 4 times start to finish and thinks it is great.

But then I got a development on this rant after two years because I too hate toothpaste with a passion it just feels gross and leaves mouth weird and fucks with tongue. And so my mom as a joke got me kids strawberry toothpaste which upon reading the ingredients realized that children's toothpaste might have worked perfectly fine to solve Matt's problem which is fucking funny as hell. However the silica that a lot of them have might actually not been great cause it can dry out bugs, which is partly why you can use some types as toothpaste in small amounts as a pest repellent! The other reason is they fucking hate the smell. Again toothpaste against bugs is an interesting thing.

But yeah your right spiders can have toothpaste, but they probably won't like it.

[ktsumu]

hey guys guess who is back and THIS TIME without tags because tumblr limits you to 30 and i don't have that kind of restraint so. under the cut. spoilers dwell beneath here

who remembers when i lovingly asked where part 2 was in my last tags but it actually just turns out i cant read and it was there the whole time. trying to be a demanding bitch gets you nowhere damn

oh and i'd like to start this by saying i read user wttcsms' fics with my notes app on the other side of my screen because i actually can't retain EVERYTHING i like in the 20k words of content

so, this feedback is in CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER of reading. i wrote it WHILE i read it.

this is me livetweeting to my notes app. enjoy

_____

'You don’t laugh at his joke, but he does, and he does so in a manner that indicates that one, he doesn’t care if people laugh at his jokes or not, and two, he’s very accustomed to people not laughing with him.'

michael you're a freak and i can't tell if i hate you or not

'She’s the only other person who will continuously remind these girls that there are worse things to be in life than uncomfortable.' 

stomach churned at this, i don't know why. i just got this sense of dread. felt so girl-to-girl

‘Thinking back on this, thinking about how Zeke showed no regret over his addiction, his reliance, his sole source of relief, Colt finds the courage to walk out the bathroom and head to the red light district.’

so you think i’m addictiveeee (i’m joking i take this dynamic very seriously sorry for ever implying that i don’t)

i also think calling reader an addiction in this sense is so dear to me because of how many connotations it could have otherwise given her line of work. like her whole occupation thrives on addiction and it's like mint gum to have that word used positively

help the gossip girl group too and the ‘oh not this again’ CRYING i like the humour i get in the middle of this

‘He says, and it sounds like how people who have their heads underwater for a prolonged period of time gasp for air the moment they’re able to have their head above the surface.’

me versus drowning metaphors. i am So Normal about drowning. So fucking normal about drowning (in a normal way)

but like seriously i'm not trying to be a literal weirdo but there's something about it when there's no external force being mentioned too, like nothing is holding them underwater. they just are and it's like i don't know

this ENTIRE scene with us talking to him like it’s the first time? my chest is so tight right now.

and oh my GOD getting you jewelry but it’s not a fucking necklace but it’s  A WATCH. something ACTUALLY USEFUL to you but it still holds the same sentiment. actually no it holds way more. holy fuck

dropping to his knees? babe same

the whole theme of not being allowed to have personal desires is so fucking crushing but necessary so. i’ll allow it this once 

‘And that betrayal is going to hurt the worst.’

if this is foreshadowing I’m gonna unfollow you and make a PSA about it (joking i'm whipped continuing on)

'Disarmed.'

im jumping

‘Colt is probably going to marry some beautiful, blushing bride’

if he lives long enough to see a wedding goddamn

sorry that was uncalled for but his future is ugly

HERES MY FAVOURITE

OOOOOOH USER WTTCSMS GOT ME WITH THE naked but not naked TROPE

it’s one thing to seen without clothes but it’s another to be naked. or something like that right

'He looks at you, and he undresses you, but it’s not clothes he’s trying to take off. He’s peeling layers of your masks, making you shed your faux skins all over the place, in some insignificant corner. Colt Grice stares at you, and he sees you, and it makes you feel special.'

what did i say about that naked shit again because this is literally it reoccurring I’m kicking my feet. also have a sense of dread because this feels too good to be true but I’m in too deep now anyway

i fuycking knew it you TRAITORRRRRR the sense of impending doom never lies oh my god

daylight [pt. ii] ; colt grice.

pairing colt grice x f!reader word count 19.2k synopsis colt grice's life has never been easy, and it's about to get a hell of a lot worse. content contains sw!reader, canon discrimination against eldians, derogatory terms towards women author's notes if you count part one, it took nearly 32k words for them to share their first kiss. who says the pwp writer can't have range? also, i'm always in a constant state of thanks to @mochalate, who constantly motivates me to work on this fic <3

part two: no kissing 

Colt Grice’s first kiss catches him off guard. 

He’s sixteen, and the positives that come from puberty are finally showing up. Now, instead of waking up with achy bones and joint pain, he’s nearly six feet tall. All traces of boyhood have been shredded, and in its place is a face with sharp features and nice bone structure that has spent years being hidden under baby fat. Like every other hopeless case living in Liberio, Colt enlists in the military because there aren’t many other options for him out there. He joins later than the others because up until he was fourteen, he wasn’t a hopeless case.

Then, Dad got sick. Bills needed to be paid. Colt was more than ready to sign up for the Marleyan military considering the fact that the average starting age is twelve — for “late bloomers,” that is. It had been this whole entire embarrassing ordeal, really. He stood out from his first bunkmates, all gangly bones and a less-than-sunny disposition on the world and its current state affairs compared to the hopefulness his younger fellow cadets all seemed to harbor. 

Colt doesn’t want Marley to go to war. He doesn’t want to die; he only enlisted because his family needed him to, even if they begged and pleaded with him not to. His paychecks get sent directly to his family, by his request. 

The uniform fits him awkwardly, too, at first. He thinks this is why he probably wasn’t on the receiving end of positive female attention. He sticks out like a sore thumb during mandatory lineup because he’s a whole head taller and several years older than everyone else who’s getting in formation. His pants fit weird, stopping at an odd point that’s an inch too high above his ankles, and the strap on his helmet is too tight and digs into the skin of his chin, resulting in him walking around with a constant red impression on the bottom of his face. He gets promoted quickly because of his test scores and ends up surpassing all his peers in his proper age bracket, too. It’s around this time that he starts taking charge, too used to having to play big brother for his original cadet class (with their chubby faces and short statures, they reminded him all too much of Falco and what he had to leave behind; settling into this role came too naturally). At this point, the uniform fits perfectly. 

The yellow armband he’s rewarded with fits just right, too.

At age sixteen, Colt Grice is officially transferred to the Warrior Unit as a Candidate. He has to prove his devotion to the cause; this means choking down more propaganda to the point where everything that comes out of his mouth is coated in Marleyan ideals, and it’s this whole entire thing where he stands up and does an oath, swearing his eternal, unwavering allegiance to Marley. It’s a public affair. The Unit makes him out to be a role model, the poster boy of sorts, for the Warrior Unit. To show the world that while being an Eldian makes you equivalent to cannon fodder, that doesn’t mean you can’t be thankful. 

He’s the closest thing this shithole has to a success story. 

Armed with what can be considered a Marleyan stamp of approval, and the fact that Colt now fills out his uniform quite nicely, in that primitive, hyper-masculine way that makes the female hindbrain go buckwild at the sight of him in it, he gains an insane amount of popularity. 

Colt isn’t a stranger to having so many admirers, now, but sometimes he still feels like that awkward fourteen year old boy playing at being a man. It’s why he’s so shocked when the girls who pursue him turn out to be very forward.

He doesn’t even expect the kiss. He’s back in the internment zone for a holiday break, and Susie had asked him to pretty please meet her behind the old schoolhouse. Colt doesn’t suspect anything will happen, but he does mentally prepare himself to give the usual response that he gives to all the confessions he receives: you’re a very nice girl, but I can’t give you the time and care you deserve; my current and only devotion lies with the military.

Susie is a very nice girl. With her short, curly brown hair and hazel-colored eyes, Colt is certain that there are plenty of boys who wouldn’t mind a love confession from her. She was one of the most popular girls back in school, or at least, Colt thinks she was. And her parents are one of the more well-off Eldians in the area; her dad’s a doctor. Her dad is Dad’s doctor, the recipient of a fourteen year old Colt’s meager military stipends. He wonders if she knows this, if she cares, if it would make a difference.

She doesn’t say anything to warn him that the kiss is coming. She rounds the corner, spots him in her line of vision, and heads straight towards him. He thinks she’ll stop at the last second, but she doesn’t, and by the time she’s too close for comfort, it’s too late.

Her lips press against his, and her eyes are closed. He knows her eyes are closed because his are wide open from shock. It lasts for two seconds, and it’s because that’s how long it took for him to regain control of his body and pull back. 

Then he apologizes and tells her that that wasn’t supposed to happen, and he can’t be with anyone right now. Shock is still clearly in his system because without even thinking too hard about it, Colt immediately turns his back on her and runs straight home. To this day, he feels bad about how he handled the situation, but last he’s heard is that Susie is married now. 

He licks his lips reflexively as he stares up at the ceiling. He wonders what your first kiss was like. He hopes for your sake that it was good, or as good as a first kiss can be. Then, he feels an unfamiliar, uncomfortable pit in his stomach at the idea of you kissing some nameless, faceless stranger. It gets even worse when he imagines that the kiss is good, that it’s something you enjoy. And then he just feels pathetic when he realizes that it’s jealousy he’s experiencing. 

It’s unfair of him to be envious of any of your past partners because Colt knows that he does not have a claim on you. He does not own you, nor does he believe that you are a possession, that you’re something to be owned. He is well aware that you are your own person, with your own experiences, and a whole lifetime lived before and without him. For all he knows, he’s just a footnote in the story of your life.

This thought makes him sad.

Fuck. He wants to turn his body and plant his face into his pillow and scream. He won’t do that because he’s nothing but courteous to his bunkmates, but this has been such a recurring urge lately that Colt is wary that this is going to be a problem if he doesn’t get his shit together, and fast. 

He finds himself thinking about you — he wouldn’t dare to go so far as to describe it as being “more often than he would like” because the fact of the matter is that he enjoys thinking about you, doesn’t mind you being the one singular thought that remains on his mind — and that’s the core of the issue. 

He repeats your name in his head like a mantra, until he’s certain that he can formulate sentences using your name as the only word. He says it in his head with different cadences, stresses the syllables in a different way every time, wonders if you ever think about him in a similar manner. 

It’s been a week since he last saw you. The bruises on his face have healed up quite nicely, and the cut isn’t even going to leave a scar, according to one of the nurses. As a result of falling asleep in your bed and having to limp back to base at the crack of dawn, Colt’s punishment is that he isn’t allowed to leave the grounds for the next two weeks. 

“What the hell were you doing, boy?” Commander Magath has the type of voice that is always booming. He is consistently loud, and Colt has long since discovered that that’s just simply how Magath sounds. Colt recalls flinching at his commanding officer’s question (re: he’s still recovering from a mild concussion, and Magath’s loudness isn’t helping much in the healing process), and, because Colt happens to come back at the odd period of time where the soldiers on watch are doing their shift changes, there’s an audience. 

Colt knows he’s stuck in between a rock and a hard place. He would rather run one hundred laps around base than ever admit he missed curfew because he was at a brothel. He also knows that he doesn’t have it in him to directly lie to an authority figure, especially when it’s a Marleyan officer. Looks like indoctrinating children really does have some lasting side effects. 

“I fell asleep, sir.” 

“Well, no shit!” 

Colt attempts not to wince when some tiny droplets of spit fly out of Magath’s mouth and land on his cheeks. He thinks it would only piss off the commander some more.

“I think it’s because of the concussion, sir. I thought going into town would help clear my head, but I ended up knocking out before I could even remember to head back to base.” Not a lie. Colt would never willingly fall asleep on you because he knows most of his time with you is limited. He has to make the most of it. 

At the mention of the injuries sustained, Colt thinks Magath’s expression somewhat softens. It must be a trick of the light, though, or maybe his head got more banged up than he realized because Magath is back to berating him, saying that he would expect this dumbass behavior from anyone else in the Warrior Unit but him — which could be taken as a sort of compliment, if only he didn’t follow it up with a reminder that everyone in said unit is such a breed of stupid that a common idiot off the street could be considered a genius compared to them. Well, idiot or not, Colt’s well aware that Magath’s definitely insulting him and his peers.

But when his only punishment is to remain confined to the base, he knows better than to try to argue his way to a lighter sentence. 

On nights like these, nights where he can’t seem to fall asleep because every slumber pales in comparison to the one he spent with you, he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom and prays to every power in the universe that you are having a good night. 

As far as bad nights go, you think this one might top the list. At minimum, it ranks somewhere in the top ten worst nights of your life. 

Ramzi is sick. You would think that being exposed to the elements on a daily basis and eating food well past its prime date for consumption would make Ramzi immune to most common ailments, but if anything, it makes him even more susceptible to sickness. While he’s plenty grown up now, being sick seems to make Ramzi revert back to a little kid, to indulge in the boyhood he never had the luxury of enjoying. 

“You can’t leave me! I don’t feel well!” 

Even with a runny nose, a persistent cough, and his ongoing battle against his body’s fluctuating temperatures (he’ll throw off his blankets because he’s overheating only to be shivering not even five minutes later), he still has just enough strength to test his luck and see if his complaints will be enough to get you to stay home. 

His antics, while proof of his love for you, are starting to get on your nerves. The time you spend running around, trying to get him situated when his one goal in life is to act like he’s unbearably uncomfortable so you keep tending to him, is making you late. The other girls who live in this camp had stopped by earlier, asking if you were ready to leave. At that point, you had been in the process of bundling Ramzi up in several blankets (he frees himself ten minutes later, complaining that he was getting “too hot”) and told them to go along without you.

Now, you realize you’re going to be late to your first scheduled appointment of the night. 

Fuck.

If you leave now and run like the hounds of hell are nipping at your heels, you could probably make it to the brothel at a decent enough time to where Willa wouldn’t have to intervene on your behalf. You know things are bad if Willa gets involved. 

Before you lose your patience and snap at Ramzi, the opening of your tent is being pulled back. 

“No work tonight?” Malik asks. 

“I wish.” And then, “Did you need something?” The I’m kind of busy goes unsaid, but it’s clear in the agitated tone of your voice. 

“Just wanted to stop by and check up on you two. It’s been a while.” 

Malik doesn’t apologize. Probably on account of the toxic masculinity that seems to run rampant around this camp — this whole society, really — but he means well. Most of the time. From what you can see, at least. 

You know him stopping by and saying this is his idea of extending an olive branch to you. Usually, you would tease him at this point, ask him if he forgot how to say the words “I’m sorry.” All you can think about, though, is that he has the worst fucking timing. 

“Yeah, I guess it has been.” You tell him, opening up your trunk and pulling out the pair of socks Colt had gifted to you. In the box containing all of your meager possessions, the ointment lays on top of everything. You’re not facing Malik, anymore; instead, you pull on this pair of socks before slipping into your shoes. 

The stark whiteness of the cotton stands out from the usual colorful swaths of fabric prevalent in the camp. It’s too bright, too squeaky clean, to properly fit in your life of once-grand clothes that have retained only a fraction of the beauty and boldness it once held.  Malik innocently asks you where you got the socks from. 

“A customer.” You answer, and this shuts him up for now. If there is anything in this world that Malik hates more than admitting his fault and apologizing, it is any discussion of what you do for work. It’s an unspoken rule that the two of you don’t talk about your time at the brothel. For once, you’re glad about it. 

“I’m about to go to work right now. Could you do me a favor and watch over Ramzi for the time being? He’s sick, and I’m worried how he’s going to feel later on in the night.” Minding your manners, you look Malik in the eyes and tack on a please at the end of your request.

“You know I don’t mind.” He doesn’t break eye contact with you. You think you detect something different in the intensity of the stare he’s giving you; more serious, with an almost broody concern evident in those dark eyes of his. “I’ll be waiting here when you get back. We’ll talk more then, okay?” 

You’re already running horribly late. You don’t have time to argue, to remind him that the last thing you’re in the mood for is a conversation you’re unprepared for, especially after a long shift. Instead, you give a slight nod in acknowledgment, and practically sprint out of the tent. 

The cold wind whips you in the face as you make your way to the red light district. Usually, the sun is just barely starting to set when you make your journey; it’s jarring to see how different the walk feels when you’re by yourself, and it’s starting to get dark out. 

The closer you get to the district, the more the fact that you are a woman, alone, in a more dangerous, more lawless area of the city, starts to loom over you. You tighten your coat around your body, practically hugging yourself as you try to quicken your pace. The cold air bites through the fabric of your clothes, chills you to your bones, leaves goosebumps all over your flesh. 

The streetlights are dim, the pavement cracked, and you are well aware that the cold soaking through your skin right now isn’t just from the weather, but from the lecherous stares of the men walking down the street. This is the same path you’ve taken for years now, but tonight, it is entirely too different. You never noticed just how tiny you are compared to the heavyset frames of the men standing outside, with their burly shoulders that could easily knock you down if they were to accidentally run into you. 

Even the scenery feels different. You’ve walked down this street enough times to recognize where the deep potholes in the road are, and usually the buildings lining the district are a source of odd comfort to you. There’s a familiar bar, but its usual warm glow of light emitting from within doesn’t serve as a means of brightness anymore. Now, the lighting from inside casts weird shadows on the faces of the passerby, distorts their features, gives your paranoia something to feed off of. 

“Hey, girlie,” a raspy voice startles you. It’s been so long since you’ve had to worry about yourself — always choosing to focus on the surroundings for the sake of the other girls, always never having to because girls develop a sort of stupid invincibility when they link arms and take the town together — that you’re caught off guard by the sudden feel of a man’s hand on your shoulder. 

Fight or flight. 

You choose the weakest of the options: freeze. 

You realize that you’re scared to look at the man. Your eyes dart nervously down the street, taking in the surrounding buildings, but you realize that there is no one here who will be able to rescue you. Survival instincts kick in, and you find yourself able to back away from him, but his hand grips down on your shoulder even harder. Like a claw, like a shackle. 

“You one of those streetwalkers?” His words come out like a croak. You reason that it doesn’t matter what exactly he says; as long as it comes out of his mouth, with his dry, thirsty, cracked lips, spitting out sentences in between yellowing and rotting teeth, the words are going to sound disgusting regardless. 

“Or ya just a whore for free?” 

You take another step back. With what little light that shines from the streetlamps (that have certainly seen better days), you’re hyper aware of more figures approaching. Sometimes, there are other women who stand outside, some women who are the “streetwalkers” the man has accused you of being, but you know that they cannot come to your rescue. If they were to witness this scene right now, a scene that they’ve probably endured every night out here, they might not even recognize your plight. 

“What’s going on here?” An authoritative voice cuts through your panic, and in the low lighting, you almost think it’s Colt that’s approaching this scene. 

Wishful thinking is a silent killer. Like drugs and alcohol, the high you get from it, the relief, only lasts for so long. Coming down is even harder. 

You know you shouldn’t feel disappointed at the sight of your savior, but this soldier is clearly Marleyan. For all you know, he’s just gotten done with a session with one of the girls you patch up every night. 

He grips the man’s wrist, yanking it from your shoulder and assessing him. 

“I asked you a question.” This blond-haired soldier shoots such a sharp, disgusted look at the man that you’re certain the effect would be similar to how it feels when a blade pierces through one’s intestines. 

“Look, I don’t want no trouble.” The man snarls, pointing a grimy finger at you. “She’s the one solicitin’ people for cheap sex. Go arrest her, officer.” The way he spits out the title shows he harbors the same amount of respect for prostitutes and the police. The only thing stopping him from putting his hands on this soldier is probably the high chance that he’s got a weapon on him. 

“Big fan of the law, are you? Should I take you both down to the station with me, then? We can file a report together, and you can tell my superiors what exactly your business being down here is.” 

“Fuck you.” 

You’re debating if you should test your luck and run. There’s a chance that the soldier would rather chase after you than deal with this man’s verbal assault and hair-pin trigger temper. However, the last thing you want is to get indicted for prostitution. Not because it’ll go on your record; you couldn’t care less about that. It just sounds like filing an official report would take a long time, possibly the whole night, and you can already picture all the money you’re losing by standing here instead of being in your room, ready to greet guests. 

As if sensing your agitation, the soldier glances at you and then claps the man on the shoulder, guiding his hand upwards until it’s circled around the back of the man’s neck. He pulls the man closer to him, and because of the soldier’s height, he has to lean down slightly to get eye-level with your harasser. 

Silence. You can feel the fear radiating off of the man, undercut with his drunken defiance. If there’s anything men have in common, no matter what race or class, it’s certainly audacity. 

“Y’know what, I thought you had a bit more fire in you. ‘Fuck you’, seriously?” The soldier turns his head and looks at you, making a face as if trying to ask you can you believe this guy? “I know you can do better than that.” He takes his hand and pats the back of the man’s head. “Tell you what. I’m going to walk this lovely lady home, who was certainly not soliciting you, and then I’m going to come right back here. By the time I come back, you better come up with some better insults, or I’m going to be very disappointed.” Straightening himself up, he extends a hand to you; thankfully, not the hand that has touched that man. 

What else are you supposed to do in this situation other than take it?

The longer you walk with this man, the more you study him. The more you study him, the more you realize that it was foolish to believe even for a second that he was Colt. They have similar builds, but Colt has a leaner figure, lighter hair, soft brown eyes. The way they carry themselves is different, too. This man walks with his arms swinging by his side, and while the first glance of him can fool people into thinking he’s a perfect soldier, upon closer inspection, you realize that his uniform is missing a button, his pants are slightly wrinkled, and there’s a strand of hair in the back that’s sticking up. 

“So, you work at the Gentleman’s Club.” It’s not a question. His tone is light enough, though, to where you’re not on edge. He had let go of your hand the second you two left the immediate vicinity of the man. 

“Yes.” There’s no point in lying. 

“Don’t suppose you’ve run into many of them there.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Gentlemen.” He clarifies. “I don’t think you’ve dealt with many gentlemen there, right?”

“The name’s all for marketing.”

“Hi, All For Marketing. Bit of a mouthful of a name.” 

You don’t laugh at his joke, but he does, and he does so in a manner that indicates that one, he doesn’t care if people laugh at his jokes or not, and two, he’s very accustomed to people not laughing with him. You can’t tell if you like him or not. 

“My name’s Michael.” He adds, after settling down. “Willa told me telling you my name would make you feel better.” 

“Willa told you that?” You narrow your eyes at him. “How do you know Willa?” Willa’s the reason why any of the girls feel remotely safe in the Club. She’s older than you, but only by a few years. With the life she’s led, you’re only surprised that she’s not older — or dead. 

“She kicked me in the nuts once, and I was a goner ever since.” 

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and he doesn’t clarify. Instead, he drops you off at the front of the brothel, not even saying goodbye. He just turns right on his heels and starts to whistle an unfamiliar tune. You don’t tell him that this part of town isn’t the area where you want to whistle as you skip down the street, but considering the fact that you hadn’t felt any more slimy stares directed at you as you walked with him, maybe he can handle himself just fine. 

“Is everything okay?” Willa rarely calls anyone to her office. Tucked away in an odd corner of the brothel, it’s almost as if she doesn’t want anyone to know where her office is. The first and only time you’ve been in here had been on your first day of work, when she made you tea and told you that this is going to be a horrible experience, and that her job isn’t to ensure the girls’ comfort but rather their survival.

She’s the first person to truly ingrain this idea into your head: survival over everything. She’s the only other person who will continuously remind these girls that there are worse things to be in life than uncomfortable. 

The three jagged scars running down her face, starting from an inch below her left eye, down her cheek, traveling all the way to her throat, surely must have been more than just an uncomfortable ordeal. But here she is now, standing tall, pouring hot water into cups. The smell of tea brewing fills the small room. 

“Yes, of course.” You tell her, not sure why she had been waiting for you in the lobby, only to usher you into her office. 

“Hmm.” Her back is still turned to you. Her desk isn’t spotless like you would imagine it to be; she runs such a tight ship in this brothel, you envisioned that every other aspect of her life must be dictated by her militant extremes. There are papers covering every surface, pinned to the walls, even, and books stacked on the floor. You can’t imagine finding anything in this mess. Anything of importance would most likely be hidden in plain sight.

“Is this about the two appointments I missed? Willa, I—”

“Already handled it.” She turns to face you, offering you a teacup. The warmth travels from your hand and spreads to the rest of your body. You didn’t even realize just how cold you are.

“Are you going to fire me now?” The newfound warmth in your body immediately dissipates. You’re not above begging. If it comes down to it, you’ll do anything to keep this job. The sounds of Ramzi’s coughs fill your mind as you continue speaking, “Willa, I have never been late before this—”

“I’m not going to fire you.” She takes a seat on the edge of her desk, some papers falling to the ground as a result. “I just wanted to talk.” 

“About?” 

She shrugs, placidly, but you’re certain it’s just an act. She’s sitting too rigidly on her desk, and Willa is not the type of person to waste time (time is money, after all), especially just to shoot the shit. Finally, after the protracted silence, she sighs.

“Don’t you wish you could hop on a ship and leave this shithole? Sounds pretty nice, right?” 

You allow yourself three seconds of some more wishful thinking, but the idea of ever leaving Marley and having a life that’s better than the one you’re currently living right now seems so out of reach, your mind can’t even wrap around such an idea. 

“Wherever I go, I’d still be me.” 

“It’s a total hypothetical, [Name]. What if you ran away and had a whole new identity?” Her green eyes are very sharp. Actually, every feature of Willa is pointed and sharp. Depending on the lighting, she either looks delicate like a doll or downright dangerous. 

“What’s the point? What’s the point of living if you’re not yourself?” 

She smiles at you, almost like the two of you are sharing some intimate secret.

“I should probably go.” You tell her. You didn’t make this trip just to leave the brothel with empty pockets. There’s only so many hours left in the night. “Thanks for the tea.” 

You set the cup back on the small table crammed in the corner of her office. You didn’t even take a single sip.

Your hair is a matted, tangled mess, some strands sticking to your sweaty face. Regular customers range from the dregs of society to silent men who like to think themselves unemotional and cold but fuck with a vigor and passion that has them grunting out the name of the woman they truly wished was under them. For the most part, you don’t mind the men who fuck you with this sort of detached lust. 

Some nights, it’s even mildly entertaining. 

Tonight, it just hurts.

It’s like every man who stumbles into your room tonight has a lover in his head. Lover might be too sweet of a word, though. You can’t picture any of these men being loving, but sometimes, you can hear it in their distressed groans. Something animalistic and wounded, filled with want and desire. 

You wonder what the big fucking deal is. If you’re infatuated — even foolish enough to think yourself in love — with somebody, why are you paying to have sex with someone else? What’s stopping them from pursuing these women freely? The fact that they’re losers?

Your pessimistic thoughts give way to something more personal, though. When you’re left to sit in the silence after hearing the nonstop exclamations of every woman’s name but your own — each of them said in such a desperate, longing manner, it was probably a love confession — you realize that only a select few people outside the refugee camp know your name. 

You stare at your door, willing it to open. 

Hoping. Wanting. Waiting. 

Just like every other night this past week, just like every other night that followed after you acted just as foolish as these men and whispered your name to him, he doesn’t show up. 

You sink into your mattress. 

Hope’s going to kill you before anything else gets the chance. 

Colt stares at his reflection in the barracks’ bathroom. There’s a tiny crack running down the mirror that hangs over the sink he used to wet his toothbrush and rinse his mouth — the one with the perpetual leaky faucet — and the constant drip drip drip of water slowly plopping down in the discolored porcelain does nothing to ease his nerves.

Tonight is his first night of renewed freedom. 

There’s little to no trace of the sparring match from two weeks ago. Claire had been right in her assessment: there is no lasting scar from the cut. He feels himself tracing the areas on his cheek where the bruises formed. There’s nothing left of them, now, but he can trick himself into feeling the ghost of your touch when he does this.

The only good thing to come out of not seeing you for two weeks is that he has considerably much more money saved up, allowing him to purchase more of your time. 

The crack in the mirror travels from the upper-right hand edge down to the lower left-hand corner. It’s jagged, but faint; just enough to distort his reflection, make it look like he’s some messed up puzzle where the two pieces aren’t aligned right yet. His haircut came courtesy of his enlistment, so it’s no surprise to him when he finds he can’t style it in any other way besides the military guideline approved gelled parting. It usually doesn’t matter, considering he’s either on base or hiding his hair underneath a helmet, but now he’s standing in this cold bathroom, hyper aware of his looks.

He knows that he’s considered to be handsome. Handsome in a rather generic way, he thinks. He holds none of the rugged appeal some of the girls claim Porco possesses, nor does he hold the same amount of inviting charm Michael seems to waste, since every time he manages to attract a girl, he opens his mouth and they start running in the other direction. His looks are nothing special. This realization wouldn’t bother him on any other day, but when he’s spent two weeks thinking about reuniting with you, in all his plain glory, he feels like heading back to his room and never seeing the light of day again. 

But he’s a soldier, a Warrior Candidate, the next inheritor of the Beast Titan. He brought pride to his family, proved to everyone that he was at least someone worth giving a damn about, and—

—he wants to see you again.

Wanting is proof that he is human. Animals survive on a basis of need. They eat the food that they can hunt because they need to survive. They burrow into holes in the ground or sleep on rocks because they need to survive. They claw at each other, spitting mad, snarling, sharp teeth, bloody paws, all because they need to survive. A textbook from his childhood, a textbook still included in Falco’s curriculum, states that Eldians are more animal than human.

Colt is aware that he’s done lots of things for the sake of survival, out of need, but there is something wonderfully human that continues to live inside of him, an ache in his body that can only be relieved by giving into his wants. 

He thinks back to earlier this week, when Zeke calls for him so they can toss a baseball back and forth to each other. Colt always gets the feeling that Zeke is in a perpetual state of holding back. He’ll talk to Colt and make the occasional joke, drops an insignificant anecdote from his earlier years, all of which are scraps that Colt clings to because it won’t be long until Zeke isn’t here anymore. He’s well aware of how morbid it sounds, but Colt doesn’t view death in the disgusting, grotesque way most people do. He’s sappy. He softens it, like how he softens most things. He likens it to a well-earned rest.

He collects these little bits and pieces of information from Zeke so that at least his memory won’t be buried in the grave with him. He accidentally lets this slip out when they’re done tossing the baseball, and they’re just leaning against the brick ball, enjoying a break away from the other soldiers. 

Zeke had asked him why he cares so much, and after getting his answer, Zeke fumbles around in his front pocket, procuring a lighter and a cigarette. 

After lighting it and taking a long drag, he tells Colt, “You’re a good person, you know.” 

Zeke isn’t the type of guy who says things just to flatter people. In fact, most of the Warriors seem to go out of their way to push their luck and see what types of out of pocket things they can get away with saying. Porco tops all of them, easily. 

“Thank you,” Colt isn’t good at dealing with praise. Most of the superior officers here aren’t keen on giving compliments to Eldian soldiers, and so Colt gets used to savoring the silence in between insults.

“But, you know that memories get inherited, too, right? Can’t remember if they wrote it in the damn textbook or if I mentioned it to you before.” 

“Both.” Colt answers. He remembers, because the camaraderie of it all had sounded so appealing to a young Colt. Later, he realizes that it’s because all blessings come attached with a curse; unimaginable power and a means to do right by the people you love and your state, but you die shortly after. Maybe it’s only fair that memories get passed down, to make up for all the memories you won’t ever get to make. 

“So, what’s the point in trying to remember all the stuff I tell you?” 

The rough exterior of the bricks digs into Colt’s back. “What if not all memories get transferred over? Maybe the ones I remember on your behalf don’t pass over, but since I know them, they get to live on.” 

Zeke appears to be thoughtful for a minute, letting the words sink in, soak him straight to the bone. “Can’t argue with that.” Zeke can actually argue quite well; Colt knows this. What Zeke means to say is that he doesn’t want to argue. Zeke digs into his pocket, pulls out a carton, and offers it up to Colt. 

“I don’t smoke.” 

“Good for you. Don’t start.” The advice seems insincere, since Zeke tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground and immediately lights up another one. 

Maybe if he had regenerative abilities and didn’t have to worry about black lungs, Colt would also try out smoking. Probably not. His mother is always reminding him to take care of himself and taking up Zeke on his offer of cigarettes would feel like a betrayal to her. 

Zeke is no stranger to smoking. Colt would go so far as to call it an addiction, what with the way his fingers seem to always naturally find their way to a lighter and a cigarette. The smell of smoke clings to his jacket, and you can occasionally see him reflexively twitch his fingers when he’s gone too long without a smoke. 

Colt wonders what would happen if he goes too long without seeing you again. Would his knee bounce anxiously? Would his hands clench and unclench, just from the strain of having to resist the urge to run to your side? He’s not familiar with such a concept; it feels insane to be reduced to nothing but his wants. 

“Do you regret starting?” Colt nods to the cigarette burning in Zeke’s hand. 

“Not really, no.” 

The crunch of gravel being grinded underneath his boots, the way the tiny embers of a persistent flame clinging to the cigarette are immediately extinguished, just from one well-aimed stomp from Zeke, had Colt excusing himself to prepare for his meeting with you.

Thinking back on this, thinking about how Zeke showed no regret over his addiction, his reliance, his sole source of relief, Colt finds the courage to walk out the bathroom and head to the red light district.

“And then he fucking coughed on me!” Alize is an animated storyteller. You can see the disgusted look on her face, almost as if she’s reliving the very scene she’s describing in horrifying detail for you all. As one of the only Eldians working here, Alize gets some of the worst clients. The type to fetishize her for the armband she’s mandated to wear. 

“No!” Margaret gasps, like she is oh-so shocked at such a thing happening, even though this is a very tame thing in comparison to a lot of the situations everyone encounters. All the girls sitting in the circle are laughing, and it feels good, truly, to have a chance to gather like this and rehash traumatic events together like girls gossiping at a sleepover. If you can’t make fun of it, what’s the point of enduring it? 

Nadia is sitting next to you, back slightly hunched, knees pulled up to her chest so her little chin can rest atop them. She’s not laughing, and she’s not sharing her own stories. 

“Why don’t we ever share any good stories?” You ask, and that brings up another round of laughter. Good? In this place? Get real.

But when you’re surrounded by these girls, sitting close together, enjoying each other’s company, it’s almost easy to forget that anything bad has happened here. You want Nadia to see that. 

“I’m being serious, come on. All of us can remember at least one good story.”

“Well, there was that one guy who used to come in and dress me up in lingerie. Brand new panties and bras every week; the good stuff, too. I’m talking lace.” Margaret leans in to the circle when she says this, and everyone’s hooked. Lacy lingerie? That’s a luxury. 

“Mags, that’s not a good story! His wife caught him spending all his paychecks on playing dirty dress-up with you, and she came down here, causing an absolute ruckus!” Delia feels most passionately about this because she happened to be in the lobby when the man’s wife came around, and then got accused of being “that whore.” Delia never lets Margaret forget that she took a slap to the face for her; as if Margaret would ever forget that.

“You know what I’m not hearing? Anything good.” You point out. 

“What are you looking for? A fucking love story?” Alize snickers, before you make eye contact with her, subtly letting your eyes flicker to a hopeless looking Nadia. Alize understands immediately. 

“You know, there is that rumor about that one girl who met her husband here.” Alize starts but is immediately met with interjections.

“Not this again—”

“Get real, Ali—”

“Shut up! I’m telling the story, here, aren’t I?” Alize gives everyone in the circle a warning stare before continuing. “He was a businessman.”

“Okay, businessmen are the worst, I don’t—” You knock your body against Margaret’s, effectively getting her to quiet down so Alize can actually finish her story before you all have to head to your separate rooms to get to work. 

“And he wasn’t looking for love, by the way. Don’t get it twisted, girls. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that men don’t come to girls like us with the game plan of meeting their one true love. Got it?” The reminder seems to be aimed at Nadia, who begins to peek out of her shell at the word “love.” 

“So, this businessman, he ends up at this place because he’s new to the area and some cab driver totally screwed him over. Pulled right outside our lovely little area of the city and robbed him! Now, he’s broke, but looks way too good to be in an area like this. And our girl, Nadia—” The name of the girl who gets the happy ending always changes. No one has any idea how this rumor started; apparently, it always happens to be right before the time the oldest girl at the brothel started. By the time people start requesting for someone to tell this story, it’s usually not for their sake, but for pulling out some other girl from the darkness of this place. Nadia is definitely latching on, allowing herself to be rescued. Even if the story is just a fantasy, it’s still better than wallowing in a pit of despair.

“—she spots him. She’s about to head to our little club here until she spots him. He looked so out of place and like easy pickings. If she didn’t approach him, who knows where he’d be?” 

“Dead in a ditch, probably,” A voice pipes up, followed by quiet giggles.

“Naked, too. You know they would’ve robbed him for anything he had.” Margaret adds in, resulting in another round of laughter. You smile at her response; she’s not wrong.

“Well, isn’t he just so lucky to have met Nadia, then! Anyway, Nadia finds this hopeless case of a man and is like, ‘you’re not from around here, are you?’ and he goes, ‘what gave it away?’, and she says, ‘you’re not unzipping your pants at the sight of me.’ Oh, Nadia. What a class act she was.” Alize sighs. “She takes him to the brothel and lets him go straight to her room, and she tells him, ‘you can spend the night here.’ Of course, he’s a businessman. He knows nothing in life is free. So he asks her, ‘what’ll it cost me?’ And she tells him a price that’s worth three nights of work! He agrees to it, but tells her he doesn’t have any money to pay her right away. Now, Nadia is a little risk taker, because me personally? I’m not doing a damn thing for a broke man under this roof. But she trusts him! Guess he had that type of straight and narrow look about him. Only, instead of sleeping, he strikes up a conversation with her!”

“Now that’s unrealistic.” Delia mutters under her breath. “What kind of a man just wants to talk?”

“And they stayed up all night just talking, and the businessman and Nadia both have never felt so seen by someone else. So, she sends back to the nice side of town, and he comes back during the night with twice as much money as he promised. He starts visiting her every night, bringing her gifts and whatnot, and on the last day he’s about to leave town, he shows up with a ring and, well… It’s a good story. We all know how it ends.” Alize waves her hand in the air like she can’t be bothered to tell the rest. “Clearly there’s hope for us all. Especially you.” Alize reaches over to gently poke Nadia’s leg. “Maybe our little Nadia will meet a nice businessman.” 

She no longer looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up, but it’s not a fairytale from Alize that Nadia is searching for. She looks up at you, searching hard for any dishonesty when she asks you, “Has anything good happened to you here?”

You’ve come to terms with the fact that Colt is never coming back. Even thinking about his name fills you with regret because you gave up a part of yourself that was supposed to remain forever locked away in your ribcage. You haven’t thrown out the ointment or the socks yet; not because you’re sentimental, but because you’re not wasteful. Both items are kept buried in your trunk, though, underneath piles of your more familiar, more worn out pieces of clothing. Pretending that Colt has never walked into your life would protect your heart and state of mind. Admitting to the kindness he showed you would keep Nadia going. You already know what you’re going to say. 

“There used to be a soldier who would visit me and all we would ever do is talk. He didn’t even want to lay in bed.” You can hear surprised whispers from the other girls, but you focus only on Nadia. “He brought me socks and ointment for a bruise I didn’t even tell him I had. He just…had a way of noticing things.”

Nadia is raised within the same cultural environment as your own. Her eyes only further widen at the mention of the gifts he brought you. “And food? Did he bring you food?” 

It sounds silly to the Eldian girls in the room, but you can feel the watchful eyes of your neighbors. You shake your head. “No.” 

“Not yet.” This is the most certain Nadia has ever sounded about anything. “But he will. I know he will.” 

“Get ready, girls!” Willa knocks on the door, signaling to them that the fun is over. It’s time to go to work.

Before everyone can file out, little Nadia grabs your wrist, making sure you stay to hear what she has to say. Everyone is trying to be polite, but they are noticeably crowding around the door but not actually exiting.

“So then the next story girls tell when they want to talk about love will be yours. At least it’ll be a real story this time, too.”

Willa doesn’t enter your room, but she does let you know that someone has booked you for the whole night. 

Pro: guaranteed money.

Con: only a real freak would do that.

You’re not sure what to expect, but you do prepare yourself for the worst. 

If you survived everything before this, you can survive this. 

You repeat the mantra in your head until you get sick of it, and by the time the door swings on its hinges, you are nothing but calm and collected. 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

Fresh, clean, and looking even better than your memories cited him to be, Warrior Candidate Colt is standing in your room. 

“Hi, honey,” you greet him, same as you would anybody else. There’s a sadistic sort of satisfaction that settles in your system when you see a wounded expression on his healed-up face. The sad puppy dog eyes he unknowingly gives you is almost enough to shatter your resolve. 

Good stories don’t come from places like these. There is no man looking for love here. Don’t act like a child and hang on to some stupid hope. 

“Hi,” he says, and it sounds like how people who have their heads underwater for a prolonged period of time gasp for air the moment they’re able to have their head above the surface. Like he needs air, like life is being shot right back into his system. Like how the men from those nights before had groaned those women’s names.

“You plan on just standing there the whole night?” Like a good hostess, you pat down the empty space on the bed next to you. He swallows hard, eyeing the bed, staring at it like he’s remembering the last time he was in here with you. 

“If that’s what you want me to do.” 

There he goes again, with the wanting, with the letting you take control. You want to ask him why he left you alone for two weeks, but that still won’t account for why it hurt you so much. You want him to tell you that he’s sorry, but you know he doesn’t owe you an apology. He’s technically nothing to you, or at least, he should be. You want him to sit down on this bed so you can play with his perfect hair and admire his perfect face and play pretend that this is the type of good story where the man loves the woman, and everything ends happily. You want, you want, you want. 

But that’s not the role you decided on. You are not The Girl Who Wants. You’re a prostitute who calls people honey and doesn’t form any emotional attachments to the men who walk into this room. This character — she knows nothing about bruise ointment and thick socks, the fear of seeing his bruised face, the peacefulness of him sleeping soundly in the bed, the gentle way he whispered your name in the dark, half-asleep but determined to say it still. The curve of his lips, the smile on his features after he said it — none of that has happened to her.

“Oh, come on, honey. Don’t be shy.” You cock your head, looking at him and wishing to see nothing but a stranger in his place. “Don’t tell me it’s your first time?”

Oh, Colt realizes. So this is what it’s like to be stabbed. 

He wonders if he was so insignificant to you that he truly didn’t make a lasting impression. The faint memory of his hair being played with, the careful way you applied the ointment, everything, was all just a fleeting moment in time. What he has spent time savoring, clinging onto, reaching for, has meant nothing.

“I should go.” He blurts out, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. 

What would this character do? Let him go? Let him walk out and celebrate how you have a peaceful night to yourself and you’re getting paid? Tease him? 

“Um, before I do, I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a plain black box. When he walks over to hand it to you, you instantly feel the smoothness of the fabric. It’s velvet. Expensive, and it’s not even the gift, just the case it’s in. “If you don’t like it, I can always return it.” He cannot. The jeweler on base had been very adamant that he does not do returns. Kids in the military fancy the idea of marrying young, but if the jeweler accepted every returned ring and necklace that came his way, he wouldn’t have money, just refurbished jewelry. Who the hell wants to buy a returned engagement ring? The jeweler had asked him. Sounds like a fuckin’ curse.

Inside the case is a simple silver watch. It has a thin band, with a tiny face, but it’s shiny and pretty, and it looks way too nice. You hesitantly remove it from the case, only to realize that it has some weight to it, too. Clearly, this wasn’t cheap. 

You look up at him, shocked, surprised. You know you hurt him and if you felt bad for your treatment of him before, you feel infinitely worse now. 

“Time seems very important.” He explains, sometimes staring at his polished shoes as if he’s never seen them before, sometimes letting his eyes flicker up towards your face, almost like he wants to gauge your reaction. “I figured a watch would be useful. To track time. To make sure that no one wastes yours, or tries to claim that they spent less time than they actually did—”

“I love it.” You tell him. 

There’s that pleasant warm feeling he gets inside of him every time you praise him. You like — no, love — something he’s picked out for you! He wants to launch into the story of how he got it, tell you how he spent two hours in that store trying to get it just right, how he’s happy that you like it because he can’t return it. He doesn’t, though. He just gives you a small smile and is about to head back to base until you ask him,

“Why were you gone for so long?” 

You’re in a tiny room, and yet, you want to make your voice even tinier. You say the words like you’re scared they’re going to come alive and punch you in the face. If there is one person in the world who wouldn’t use how small you feel against you, it’s the soldier standing right in front of you.

He drops to his knees immediately. 

“Oh.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, to cradle your face. It’s a military feat, the type of self-restraint he possesses. All those years of depriving himself, of telling himself he’s not allowed to want, are suddenly paying off. “No, no, I swear to you I didn’t stop showing up because I didn’t want to see you anymore. After the last time I was here, I missed curfew, and my commanding officer wouldn’t give me permission to leave until today. Please, look at me.” The last sentence comes out all strangled and pained, like if you don’t, he might just do something stupid, like run out into traffic. 

It is an odd feeling to be the one who looks down on someone for once. He’s so tall, even on his knees and even with you sitting upright on the bed, his eyes are still practically level with your own. Sincere.

That’s what he is. 

You can tell just by looking into his eyes. He may stutter and choke on his words, but his eyes tell you enough. He is pleading with you, he is searching for forgiveness that he should have never needed in the first place, he is everything.

“Colt.” You remember thinking to yourself, how would it feel to hear someone say your name with such rampant desire? You should’ve been wondering, how does it feel to be the one who desires? 

You say his name, and he knows it means forgiveness. You say his name, and he knows it means want. You say his name, and he knows it means something, but he doesn’t dare to dream so big, not yet. 

“You forgive me?” 

It’s hard to say no to someone who looks like that. With the way he’s staring up at you, all hopeful and earnest, you realize that he truly has no idea of his effect on people. 

“Help me put this watch on, soldier. Pretty please?” You get to swing your feet a little, happily extending out your wrist so he can wrap the watch around it for you. 

“Too tight?” He asks you, brows furrowed, focused on the dainty piece. You’ve never realized just how big his hands are. One of these nights, you’re going to convince him to let you take a finger and trace the whole entire expanse of his broad hands. 

Colt handles things gently. You wonder if it’s hard to be so soft and caring all the time, especially when he so clearly has a soldier’s hand. All rough calluses and thick fingers. Maybe being soft and caring is just in his nature. His chemical makeup is all sugar. 

“Nope. It’s perfect as is.” 

He clasps it for you, a tiny, satisfying click locking it in place. He takes a seat next to you on the bed, and it creaks under his weight. 

“Did you really think I just left you?” He sounds hurt, and once again, the overwhelming feeling of not being a very nice person comes back to hit you in the face. 

You try to think of how to properly word it in a way that wouldn’t make him feel any worse.

“In my line of work, it’s usually the man that does the leaving. I’ll still always be here, so I guess that makes it easier to find me if they ever decide to come back.” You shrug, like it’s just that simple. Judging by the wounded look on his face, it’s clear that you weren’t successful in your task to not make him feel any worse. 

Colt normally doesn’t have an issue with speaking without thinking. He’s always been held to a much higher standard than any of his other peers, and he’s always used to treading carefully. But he can’t seem to help himself whenever he’s around you; you look at him, and all his carefully constructed self-restraint evaporates.

“I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave you.” 

You think back to your group of giggling girls — sisters, or at least, the closest thing you will ever get — and how it’s in all of your instincts to look out for one another.

Be careful of the smooth talkers, Alize always warns you all. They seem like they’re the nicest men you’ll ever meet. They’ll fatten you up with sweet kisses and hope, only to let you down in the end. You’ll say, ‘but Alize! He would never hurt me in the same way all these other men do!’, and I’ll tell you right now, he might not hit you or choke you or even call you filthy names, but no matter what he does, he’s going to find a way to disappoint you. To reveal that he is not sweet. 

And that betrayal is going to hurt the worst.

Just a couple of days with Colt, and his absence left you desperate, lonely. Who’s to say that he just won’t leave you again? You search his eyes, looking for a hint of dishonesty, for uncertainty, for boredom — anything that will tell you that he doesn’t mean what he said. That he’s just talking. That this is all just a game, a soldier wanting to stir up a different kind of war. 

Survival instincts, a choice to be made: fight or flight. 

You’ve seen your fair share of handsome men. Believe it or not, attractive people frequent brothels too. You don’t normally make a habit of studying your clients, but Colt’s face is so close to your own, and the last time you had a chance to look at him in such close proximity, he had clearly just lost a fight. 

The tall bridge of his nose is slightly crooked, noticeable only when you stare at him too closely and for too long. It looks like it was broken and the doctor hadn’t cared to make sure he was even straightening the bone when he fixed it. The tips of his blond hair hang over his forehead, casting tiny shadows, adding dimension to his face. His eyes aren’t the plain brown they appear to be. There are tiny flecks of lighter hues, almost golden, little rays of sunlight filtering his point of view. 

You don’t want to go about life always in a constant state of survival. You want to live.

“And are you? Going to leave?” A challenge. A soldier pulling back the safety on her gun, hands shaking, but the barrel is still pointed straight at him. Finger on the trigger.

“Only if you want me to.” 

Disarmed.

Colt’s finishing up a retelling of his first kiss. You think it’s cute how he gets so easily embarrassed, and it doesn’t help that you keep asking questions he doesn’t anticipate, prolonging the story. 

“Was she cute?” You ask. You’re laying on your belly, body spread comfortably over the mattress. Colt resigns himself to the floor, sitting criss-cross applesauce. The floor must be cold and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, and it makes you wonder about his training. 

You think about Colt’s life a lot. He’s the most open and honest person you’ve ever encountered, and sometimes, you forget that all you have to do is ask him, and he’ll tell you.

“She was considered to be pretty, yes.” 

“Diplomatic answer!” You point at him, laughing. Happy. “Did you think she was cute?”

“I did.” He says, looking down immediately after, playing absentmindedly with a piece of lint on the floor. 

“You did? Well, gee, what happened to her?” Colt doesn’t seem like the type to judge based on physical appearance. You think about Willa’s scars, and then picture them on your face. Would Colt still look at you the same way if your face’s flaws were staring back at him, head on?

“Nothing. She’s actually married now.” 

“Oh. So you don’t have a thing for married women?” That seems like the type of respectful mannerisms Colt would possess. The more time you spend with him, the more you realize that he truly is a good man. Not for glory, not for praise, but good for the sake of being good. 

“Sure.” He doesn’t tell you that no woman looks attractive to him after he’s seen you. It would sound sappy, or even worse, disingenuous. “Let’s go with that.” 

You narrow your pretty eyes at him, almost like you’re trying to appear stern, to get him to give in and tell you the full answer. Instead, you relax your face, the left side of your cheek pressed against your arm as you stare at him sideways. “I bet you’ve been with a lot of pretty girls.” It’s supposed to be a teasing remark, but to your ears, you are nervously aware of the hints of jealousy creeping in your tone. 

“My bunkmates will have you believing that.” It’s a running joke within the soldiers to make fun of Colt. One year, a list got exposed, where the girls in all the units voted on who they thought was the most handsome soldier. Colt had won by a pretty wide margin. A landslide victory. He had stayed hidden in his room, only leaving when absolutely necessary, for a whole week. 

“Tell me about your first girlfriend.” 

“I never had one.” Admitting it out loud to you makes him feel like a loser. 

“So you’re a—”

“No!” He’s blushing. “I—”

“You totally seduce women into warming your bed every night, and then you kick them out! You probably don’t even wait ‘til the morning! You make them leave right after you’re finished!” The exaggerated accusation makes you laugh, and you can’t stop because the horrified, distressed look on his face is so cute, it’s so obvious that what you said is far from the truth. The satisfaction you feel from Colt’s unchanging relationship status makes you feel gross, like you’re an awful person for taking pleasure in having him all to yourself.

You’re aware, of course, that the two of you haven’t even touched, save for your fingers on his face that one night. In the future, Colt is probably going to marry some beautiful, blushing bride, and he will have forgotten all about you. Foolishly, you cast aside those self-preserving thoughts, the ones that warn you not to get too attached. It’s been so long since you didn’t have to share with anyone else; who can blame you for wanting to take all of Colt’s attention? 

“I would never!” He exclaims, his indignation endearing.

As stoic as your soldier appears to be, you know the truth: Colt is a reactive person. You can read him from the way his brows are furrowed, or from the rush of blood and heat to his cheeks and ears, or even from the imperceptible movements of his fingers, of his hands. Colt is one hundred percent alive — full of life. Brimming with it. Overflowing with it, and sometimes, you get lucky, and you get to snatch up some of the excess, jar it, save it on the cold, dark nights where he can’t come and see you.

“I know.” You’re smiling at him. 

In fact, you would tell him that you’re damn near certain that he gets a big fat A-plus for aftercare. You can tell how  a man will treat you by how he handles everything else. Colt is careful with his hands, with sure and steady movements, and he treats fragile things gently. You think about how it felt to have the tips of his calloused fingers brush against the palm of your hand when he brought you the ointment, how it felt like a shot of adrenaline. 

Feeling pity for him, you toy with the threadbare sheet underneath your body. You want to look him in the eyes when you tell him this, so he knows you’re not just playing coy or teasing him. You want to fill him up with the same sincerity he seems to effortlessly give to you. 

Colt is deceptively cute; with his flushed expression and defensive stance on his character, it is too easy to overlook the fact that he’s a soldier, built for battle, bred for war.

Being honest is scary. You don’t know how he manages it every second of his life.

“I’ve never been kissed before.” 

Colt doesn’t know what to say to that. You don’t even know what you’re expecting him to say. 

“I hope it’s good. When you do get kissed.” He tells you. “You deserve to have it be good.” 

Oh. You didn’t know that this was what you wanted to hear until he went out and said it. 

“We’re going out for drinks tonight,” Pieck says, with her body draped all sorts of way across the couch. Lounging. Like a cat, Colt thinks. 

Porco pokes her back, and she shoots him a lazy, half-assed glare with no real venom behind it. “You’re takin’ up all the space on the couch.” 

“I just got back from an assignment. This feels comfortable.” As if doubling-down on her decision, Pieck shimmies her body, getting more settled in. Colt feels like she’ll sink into the cushions if they leave her unattended. 

Porco grumbles something, and then speaks up when he asks, “What’s the point of going out for drinks anyway?”

“It’ll boost morale.” Pieck says. “We captured an enemy port, and soldiers were sent back home. Might as well go out and celebrate.” 

“The port we captured was tiny and not worth a damn.” Porco points out. 

Pieck ignores this very factual statement. “All the Eldian units will be going out tonight. There’s no harm in attending.” 

“Whose idea was this, anyway? For all we know, this is a Marleyan officer’s ploy to get most of us too drunk off our asses to notice them ushering us into a navy ship so they can shoot us out of cannons.” 

At the beginning of the Mid-East War, Marleyan citizens were hopeful that this would be a conflict resolved swiftly and succinctly. With the two year anniversary and no end in sight, the effects of war are starting to settle in the country. More posters are being hung up about not wasting food or precious resources, more colorful pamphlets filled with propaganda are being delivered to schoolhouses, and every week, organizations are taking up donations to help cover military costs. If Porco doesn’t shut up, a Marleyan officer might hear and take him up on the offer; it’ll save on ammunition costs, at least.

Seeing Porco’s stance on the invitation (a pretty obvious rejection), Pieck turns her attention to Colt. “You know, there are some Eldian nurses who would like to meet you.” 

“He has a girlfriend. I told you this already!” Porco interjects. 

“Is that true?” She asks Colt. “You have a girlfriend?”

Now Porco’s staring at him. Colt feels very much like he’s being put on the spot, and he doesn’t enjoy this feeling one bit. 

“Well, she’s a girl. And I would say we’re friends.” 

Porco groans. “Don’t be so pathetic, Grice.”

If Pieck was feeling up to it, she would have slapped Porco on Colt’s behalf. Instead, she tosses him a lifeline. “You could bring her to the bar. Girlfriend or friend that’s a girl; whatever she is. It’ll probably help you out if your plan is to not get approached by girls tonight.” 

Colt latches on, grateful. “Sure. I’ll ask her.” 

He does ask you, albeit not as smoothly as he initially plans on. He wants to toss out the question, all casual-like, like no big deal, but I was wondering if you wanted to get drinks with my friends and fellow soldiers? 

What ends up happening is that he starts rambling. Somewhere between his nervous declaration that “it’s entirely your choice, and I don’t want you to feel obligated” and his speedrun of his relationship with everyone attending (“Porco only sounds like that, but he’s a nice guy when he tries, so just don’t take anything he says to heart”), you laugh.

He doesn’t know what it means to you, the fact that he doesn’t mind being seen with you. In front of, not just strangers, but people that he actually sees when the sun is up. 

“Well, with a business pitch like that, how could I say no? What night are you taking me?”

“It’s tonight.” Colt says, and you just stare at him, like he’s from a different planet. “Does tonight not work for you?” He knows that he bought all your time for tonight, just in the hopes that you would say yes. 

“I’m not dressed appropriately to go out to a bar and meet all your friends!” You point at your nightdress, the almost-translucent gown that would glow in the moonlight, if only you actually had a window in this room. The clothes that you wear on your way to the brothel are folded neatly in your dresser next to the bed, but somehow those feel like rags compared to what you’re sure his friends and their girlfriends are going to be wearing. 

“I could walk you home first, and you could change.” He suggests helpfully, but the idea of Colt stepping foot in your camp only serves to add to your panic.

“No!” You wince when you realize how loud you got, how harsh it sounds. “No, we can’t go to my place. My brother is probably sleeping, and I don’t want to bother him.” Again, it’s not a lie. But as the weeks go by, as months pass by, you are aware that you are falling deeper and deeper into Colt’s pull. Having him stand inside your home feels too intimate, like you’ll be past the point of no return if this were to happen. 

“That’s okay.” He tells you. “I don’t care what we do. I just want to spend time with you.” 

Right when you think he can’t pull you any deeper, he says something — says it so sincerely, too — that grabs you by your ankle and tugs you back to his side. You let yourself get pulled away.

“I have a change of clothes here.” You say, pulling open the dresser drawer. Colt looks like he’s about to say something, but then you start yanking your current nightgown over your head, and after taking it off yourself completely, you’re still only met with silence.

His back is turned to you. 

“Is something wrong?” You ask him, daring to step a couple steps towards him, even going so far as to brush your fingers against his shoulder, a silent plea for him to turn around.

“No.” The word comes out sounding tight and tense. 

“Colt, did I do something wrong?” 

He shuts his eyes even tighter, willing himself not to turn around. The ghost of your touch lingers on the surface of his shoulder, and the flash of skin he glimpsed at before he realized you were undressing lives rent-free in his mind. Are you still undressed right now? The thought of you being near naked, saying his name so sweetly, is torturous. 

“No. You didn’t do anything wrong at all.” He breathes out. He tries to focus on mundane things. He tries to think about the slop they served for lunch on base. He tries to think about tossing a baseball back and forth with Zeke. He thinks about Porco, who chews with his mouth open and burps without warning. 

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?” 

You do something to him. He doesn’t know what, isn’t sure if there’s a word in the dictionary that would properly describe it, but you do. 

“You’re getting undressed. It wouldn’t be…proper of me to look.” 

You didn’t think hearts could feel this way, with this tightness that surely isn’t good for your health. He says the silliest things sometimes, and it gives your tummy a nervous, fluttering feeling. All the men who have seen you naked don’t even know your name. Colt is standing here, knowing more about you than all of those men combined, and he won’t even look at your body. You wonder if he would turn around if you asked him to.

You wonder if you want him to.

Scared of what your answer might be, you’re quick to throw on the dress you originally left the house with, awkwardly smoothing it down even though you don’t think there are any wrinkles. 

“You can look now.” 

He turns around slowly, almost like he’s afraid that you’re tricking him, but then he takes you in. Takes in the faded yellowness of the dress, and the peek of white cotton that sticks out from your shoes because the socks stop right above your ankle. He likes seeing you dressed in colors, he decides. If this is how good you look in the dark, he can only imagine seeing you in the daylight. You’d have him frozen in the middle of the street with just a single glance, he reckons.

“You’re beautiful.” 

He says this, and it strips you naked. Not in a way that you’re used to, either. You feel seen, like he sees everything about you and still isn’t disgusted. You’ve been called a lot of things, but never beautiful. You think you could continue living in this wretched brothel for the rest of your life with just the memory of this high to keep you going. 

“So, you’re the girlfriend,” 

You know, instinctively, that this is the “Porco” Colt had attempted to warn you about. You adjust the thick jacket hanging on your shoulders. It’s a cold night and a long walk from the district to the bar; you don’t know how Colt didn’t freeze to death in just the thin long sleeve he wears underneath his military uniform. 

“Is that what he told you? That I’m his girlfriend?” 

“Not explicitly. But it was implied.” Porco does not mention that it was certainly not implied, but rather was an idea that he kept forcing upon Colt, and really, no one likes arguing with Porco. It’s best to just go along with whatever he says and hope he gets bored and leaves you alone. 

“It was not implied,” someone new enters the conversation, taking the stool next to Porco. She’s a very pretty girl. A flash of white-hot envy burns in your heart, sizzles down to your stomach, makes you hyper-aware of your body and sense of self. She’s sporting a red armband, same as Porco. 

“Hi.” She smiles at you, soft and incredibly friendly. “I’m Pieck.” 

You smile back, too afraid to open your mouth and accidentally say something wrong. Colt is on the other side of the bar, trying to calm down the rowdy soldiers who are all repeatedly screaming at him to take a shot. They had dragged him away from you the moment the two of you entered the bar together, and he shot you such a panicked look that you realized you would have to be the strong one and remain calm. 

As if feeling your gaze on him, he turns around. Locking eyes with him from so far away, in such a public space, makes this feel even more real. The weight of his jacket keeps you grounded, makes you not slip off the stool because you’ve never seen him look at you so intensely. 

“Shot! Shot! Shot!” Cheers erupt from the crowd of soldiers as they gleefully watch Colt finally take the damn shot. You watch the way he tips his head back, the way his angular jaw seems sharp enough to cut, the way you can see him swallow down the alcohol. The small glass looks impossibly tinier when it’s being held in his hand. 

You don’t realize how hard you’re watching him until loud laughter breaks your concentration.

“I can’t believe it! Grice really does have a girlfriend. Or, at least a girl who likes him.” Porco wipes at the corner of his eyes, as if he’s been laughing so hard, tears sprang up. Pieck rolls her eyes at her friend’s antics, mouthing out an I’m sorry, before tugging on Porco’s arm. 

“Let’s go. You’re being annoying.” She shoots you an apologetic look. “He’s drunk. And probably jealous. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but he doesn’t exactly get as much attention as Colt.” 

“Hey, I’m still here!” He grumbles. 

“It was really nice meeting you. I hope we’ll get a chance to meet again.” As she drags Porco away, you catch snippets of their conversation. Mainly from Porco, whose loud voice seems to boom over every other loud noise in this bar. 

“She’s not Eldian. What the hell is Grice thinking?”

The warm buzz of happiness from tonight dissipates. Porco isn’t wrong; you aren’t Eldian. This hadn’t seemed like such a major issue up until now, and before you can get up to try and get some fresh air, to regroup and think about what your next move should be, Colt appears. 

“Hi.” He says, cheeks pink. He’s been drinking some more. If the soldiers put as much effort into fighting as they do in goading Colt Grice to drink his weight in alcohol, the Mid-East War would have been over a year ago. 

“Hi.” 

“How are we doin’?” His words come out a little slurred, sliding off his tongue but getting jumbled up together in the process. 

“I’m doing fine. I’m not so sure about you, though.” You poke his stomach, but are only met with the feel of hard, taut muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt. 

He frowns. “I’m happy you’re here, y’know. But us — how are we doing?” 

“I think we’re doing just fine, too.” You gesture to the stool next to you. “Take a seat, soldier. You look like you’re going to fall over any second now.”

He ignores your suggestion, still frowning. “You’re lyin’. What happened?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” 

“Every time something’s wrong with us, you make that face.” He shakes his head. “I like everything about your face, don’t get me wrong, but it’s this look you give me. Like you hate starin’ at me, like it makes you sad. And every time you give me that look, you say something, like callin’ me ‘honey.’” 

You thought men were supposed to be oblivious creatures. You feel like Colt Grice is the first person to notice everything about you, and you thought you would hate it, the feeling of being utterly exposed, and maybe it would be, if it were anyone else. But it’s Colt. For a soldier, he hasn’t turned anything into a weapon against you yet, and you’re starting to think that maybe he never will. 

You decide to be just as unfiltered as he is. 

“I’m not Eldian. Your friend pointed it out.” 

“Who did?” And then Colt turns around, his movements loose and a bit unsteady. “Who said that to you?”

“It wasn’t an insult, Colt.” You play with the sleeve of his jacket. “He was probably just being realistic.” 

“Porco.” Colt says this flatly. “Porco told you that.” 

“No, he told it to Pieck when she was dragging him away. I don’t think I was supposed to hear.” 

“But you did. And now you’re having second thoughts.” 

“I’m not, it’s just—” You tighten his jacket around your shoulders once more, breathing in the familiar scent of the soap he uses. “I wouldn’t fit into your perfect life. I know you’re popular around here, that girls are lining up to date you.” Your sentences come out shaky. Vulnerability sucks. You never want to grapple with it ever again. 

“Hey,” he says softly. His hand reaches up to cradle your face. You can feel the warmth of his hand pressed against you, gently tilting your head until you’re staring up at him. His thumb caresses the top of your cheekbone. He thinks you feel softer than you look, and he doesn’t think it’s possible for you to be made out of flesh and bone, like a regular human. He thinks you’re made of something softer, sweeter, otherworldly. Like a cloud, or cotton-candy. He’s so, so scared that he’s going to blink, and you’re going to disappear. 

The overwhelming urge of want kicks him right in the stomach. He wants to kiss you, wants to feel the shape of your lips and see how they align with his. He wants to bundle you up in his clothes, this senseless want making his brain act all possessive over you. 

“Here I am, thinking I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.” His thumb traces your cheek. 

You think he’s going to kiss you now. You think you’re not going to stop him. 

A loud crash comes from nearby. Two men sitting further down the bar are getting into it now, and as if his body forgets that he’s drunk, Colt moves quickly. He instinctively moves his body in front of yours, shielding you from any potential danger. He assesses the situation, eyes narrowing at how more people seem to want to pile on top of the men. 

“I think it’s time we called it a night.” Colt mumbles, helping you off the stool and pressing you to his side as he guides you to safety. 

“Do you want me to walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safely. I won’t interrupt your brother’s sleep, or anything.” He asks you, taking special care in making sure that you don’t accidentally trip on anything. It’s dark outside, after all. 

“You can just take me back to the brothel. I normally walk back home with the other girls.” You try to stifle your yawn, but of course he notices. 

“Let me know if you get too tired. I can carry you back.” 

If he kissed you, you would have definitely let him. You would have even kissed him back. 

You know it’s supposed to be a cold night, but with his jacket draped over your body, you don’t feel a single breeze.

“Ramzi! Stop throwing stuff around! I just cleaned.” You chastise your brother, refolding his blanket and placing it inside his trunk. 

“I don’t get it. Why are you cleaning so much?” He mumbles, crossing his arms and pouting at you. You’re in too good of a mood to let his attitude bother you. Instead, you pinch his cheek, already mourning his future loss of baby fat. 

“Because someone is coming over to visit.” 

Colt’s jacket is folded neatly, freshly washed and even ironed. The night he took you out to the bar seemed to have solidified your relationship with him, or at least, it eased any leftover doubts you had. Colt Grice is a good man.

And he wants you. You! It’s been a week since the night at the bar, and Colt keeps telling you that he doesn’t need the jacket back, that he doesn’t mind you wearing it, but you’ve been searching for an opportunity to see him again. Rather than just flat-out admitting to him that you want him — trust him enough — to finally see you in the comfort of your own home, you like to mastermind situations, just to test his receptivity. 

When you tell him, feigning a nonchalant attitude, that he can stop by the camp and pick up his jacket, you try to gauge his reaction. He can’t even contain his smile, which makes you drop the whole “cool” act and smile right back at him. 

Your fingers brushed against his as you passed him the piece of paper detailing where he could find you. Before Colt, you figure you could spend the rest of your life never being touched by another man again and be just fine. After feeling the contact of his skin touching your own, always innocently, always fleeting, all this want started building up in your body. You’re overflowing with yearning. The only consolation you have is knowing that he feels the same way. 

Porco is an opinionated person. Colt is well aware of that. Sometimes, it even feels like Porco goes out of his way to be as reactionary as possible, just because he likes to push people’s buttons. 

“Did you hear about the Eldian couple that went missing? Brass doesn’t even give a single shit. The officers assigned to the case are just dicking around.” 

Occasionally, though, Porco will have a point. The world is most likely ending when that happens. 

“I’m not too surprised. Some officers don’t take missing persons reports seriously.” The answer is about as opinionated as Colt dares to get. Ever since childhood, he’s had the sinking feeling that he’s always being watched. For all he knows, the whole entire base is bugged. 

Porco makes a disgusted face. “You mean when it comes to missing Eldians, they don’t take the reports seriously.” 

Colt doesn’t correct him, which in and of itself is a confirmation of Colt’s stance on the matter. Seeing that complaining about the situation isn’t going to change anything, Porco sighs before continuing to walk alongside him. 

“Where’re you going so early in the afternoon? You’re going to miss lunch. Heard it might actually be edible today.” 

“I’m visiting someone.” 

“The girl.” Porco shakes his head. “When are you gonna give her up, man? I’m not saying it to be an asshole—” That would be a first, Colt thinks. “—but get real. Are you seriously going to mess up everything for a Marleyan girl?” He at least has the decency to whisper the last part, lest the two of them get taken out back to get shot in the head. 

“Porco,” Colt says calmly, trying to hold in his laughter. “She’s not Marleyan. She’s a refugee.” 

“Well, fuck!” Porco whacks Colt’s shoulder. “Good for you, Grice. Knew you weren’t that stupid.” 

Colt certainly feels stupid. He looks over the note you gave him, but no matter how many times he rereads it, he still can’t find your tent. 

There are people outside, walking, laughing, kids running and playing make-believe. Honestly, it’s a similar scene as any other neighborhood in Liberio, Eldian or Marleyan. The only difference is that instead of pavement and sidewalks, it’s nothing but green grass and a sparkling lake in the distance. He knows that the living conditions might not be ideal, but taking in the camp and viewing it under the sun, it looks peaceful. Like home.

He can see why you wouldn’t trust just anyone to enter.

He ventures further into the camp, but all the tents seem to blur and blend in with each other. Most are mainly built with some type of white cloth, but the whole place seems to be bursting with color. Different colored curtains dot the landscape. He spots people rolling out intricately designed rugs. He smells spices sizzling in a pan. 

He’s acutely aware of the watchful eyes of everyone around him. Colt is no stranger to public scrutiny, but it feels different this time around. He doesn’t want to do anything that would make them hate him. You told him, once, that everyone here knows your name. He knows that that’s important to you, which means that these people are important to you.

Colt pauses, tries to take in his surroundings, ground himself. Maybe word will spread that there’s an idiotic soldier traipsing around people’s backyards, and hopefully it’ll reach your ears and you’ll halt the manhunt for him. A reasonable person would ask someone for help, but he’s aware of how he’s viewed. For all he knows, reaching out would do more harm than good. Believe it or not, he knows when people are scared of him. 

“Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” A tiny voice pipes up, and Colt looks down. There’s a girl speaking to him, with wide eyes and a long braid running down her back.

“I am, actually!” Colt places the paper back inside his pocket. “Do you think you can help me?” 

“You’re looking for a brothel worker, right?” 

Colt wonders if you’ve ever spoken about him to anyone else. He doesn’t need to wonder why he likes the idea of that. 

“I am.” 

The stares get more intense when he has this girl skipping by his side. She tells him her name, Nadia. He tells her that’s a very nice name, and he means it.

“Did you bring her food?” She asks, sounding eager. 

He didn’t, but now he’s thinking he should have. Are you hungry? Is he supposed to bring you food? He had been so excited at the prospect of seeing you, of getting to be with during the day, that he didn’t think much about anything else. 

Before he can answer, you’re sticking your head out the tent, smiling brightly.

“Colt!” 

Breathless. That’s how he feels. 

He thinks you were made to be seen in the sun. 

“You found me!” Your smiles come easily when you’re at home. He wants so badly for you to always be like this: happy and carefree. 

“Nadia helped.” He nods to where the girl should be standing, but she had already sneaked off the moment she saw you come out. “Should I have brought food?”

“Oh, that’s just… It’s a cultural thing. From our country. Don’t worry about it.” You grab his hand, tugging gently. “Come in, I’ll give you a house tour!” 

He follows you, but he’s thinking over your words. Since you told him to specifically not worry about it, Colt knows that he is going to spend many restless nights doing the exact opposite of your request. 

The tent is spacious. The way it’s arranged, it’s comfortable to stand in, even without fear of your head hitting the ceiling. The carpet cushions the hard packed earth underneath, and there’s a wooden table in the middle. You’re watching him closely, trying to catch the first signs of disappointment or disgust, but all you see is pure curiosity. 

“Well, one thing ruins the whole place.” He says, shaking his head like he’s sad he has to say this. “It’s so ugly, I can’t believe you left it in here.” He picks up his jacket, wrinkling his nose. “Seriously, I’m surprised you didn’t toss this outside.”

You laugh, relief flooding through your veins. “You’re the most unserious soldier I’ve ever met.” 

“I don’t believe that. I’ve seen the state of our military.” He slings his spare jacket over one shoulder. He’s not sure what you had planned for today, but he’s hoping you want to spend it with him.

“They should make you their leader, then. I think you’d straighten them all out.” Reaching for his hand comes naturally to you, and he doesn’t ever say anything when you slip your fingers in between his. Walking back out to camp, Ramzi comes barreling towards the two of you.

“Ramzi, what’s wrong?” You immediately crouch down to hug your brother, who’s gasping and panting for breath. 

“You can’t marry this soldier! You can’t!” Peeking his head out from the embrace you have him in, Ramzi’s eyes narrow at Colt. 

“Ramzi!” You pull back, shocked. You’re clearly embarrassed, and Colt wants to tell you that there’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but he’s not sure if that would actually help. “Why would you say that?”

“You promised Malik you would marry him!”

“I— Ramzi, go inside. Now.” Your voice is shaking. Nerves. Anger. Panic. You know that Ramzi looks up to Malik. The minute you told Ramzi that a friend, a Warrior Unit soldier, would be coming, he had been excited. He ran out, in search of the toy soldier figurines he let some other children borrow because he wanted to present them to Colt. 

You’re not sure when discussions of marriage came up.

It’s true that Malik intends on proposing. For a while, you even accepted it, resigned to your fate. Nothing was ever official, but he had been the one to make sure that you and Ramzi were taken care of when you first landed in Marley. He brought you food during times when there wasn’t even enough for his own family to eat, and before you started at the brothel, he always took care in securing you clothes and blankets. He watches over Ramzi, just like he would his own little brothers. You don’t think you’re capable of love, not in the romantic sense, and you’re fine with that. True love is a rare commodity, and you’ve been living in survival mode for so long, you didn’t even see the point in searching for it.

Besides, you could do much worse than Malik. 

On the night when Ramzi was sick and the sounds of his sniffles started mixing in with the memories of those men and their groans of those unreachable women’s names, you weren’t in the mood to talk. Malik had been sitting on the ground, tea cups sitting on the table. He stayed up, watching over Ramzi, as promised, but also to make sure you would make it home and so he could have a chat with you, as promised.

You sit across from him, tucking your feet underneath you. The tea brewed at the camp isn’t as strong as Willa’s, and you regret not drinking what she offered you. The cup Malik slides over to you pales in comparison. It’s cold, you realize dejectedly, when you take a sip. It’s cold, and bitter.

“We’ve known each other for a long time now.” He clears his throat, looks you in the eyes. “You must know my intentions?” 

“What intentions?” 

You’re not blind. You know Malik is handsome, with his tanned skin and dark curls. He fills out his shirts well, from all the manual labor he does around the town, twelve to fourteen hour work days depending on how fast it gets dark outside. As far as options go, Malik might be the best person to shack up with.

“I would like for us to get married.”

Colt had been gone. The bad part about having someone take up space in your heart is that you realize what an empty organ it is when they disappear. At this moment, you’re exhausted, and cold, and you don’t want to talk anymore. You want to curl up next to Ramzi, and sleep this whole entire year off, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you won’t even wake up. 

“The proposal ritual. Are you saying you’re going to go through with that?” 

“There’s only one last thing to do, right?”

He says it in a way that makes you feel like a whore. You don’t waste your time daydreaming because there’s simply no point in it. Sometimes, though, you give in. Close your eyes. Picture a nameless, faceless man as your husband. When your husband fucks you, you think sex will be different. It’ll be making love, even. The euphemism always made you giggle; how corny, you would think to yourself. Call it what it is: fucking. 

But wouldn’t it be nice to want to feel someone’s touch and know that they love you? 

No. People in love are always the corniest people in existence. You think infatuation must cause some horrible imbalances in the body and brain or something, because the moment someone meets their One True Love, they start acting irrational. All the girls in the brothel made a pact: if one of you ever falls in love and starts acting a fool, you all have permission to slap the offending girl out of it.

In your culture, a man proposes through a series of tests. Considering the circumstances, the elders are willing to acknowledge the bare minimum. First, the man must present the girl with clothes and then food. It proves that he’s a provider. Then, the potential couple lays together. When she lets him in her bed, it’s her acceptance to the proposal. 

“Three months,” is what you tell Malik. “Three months, and I will give you my answer.”

The deadline for your answer is fast approaching. There’s barely three weeks for you to decide whether or not you allow Malik into your bed. Three months ago, you considered your answer to be a reluctant yes. What else could you say? No? You thought about it, thought about spending the rest of your life living on your charm and resilience. How much longer could you survive in the brothel? Youth and beauty sells — not old, damaged goods. Now, when you brush the grass stains from your skirt, you look at Colt and feel conflicted.

You need to give Malik an answer — and soon. Before Colt re-entered your life, you knew what you needed to do to ensure survival. Now, you know what you want in your life. Needing versus wanting. Surviving versus living. 

“Want to walk me to an exit?” Colt offers a hand to help pull you up. You can’t read the expression on his face, and you realize it’s because he’s purposely working hard to shut you out. You can’t even be upset with him for it.

The two of you walk together in silence. 

“It’s not official.” You offer up, when you can’t take it anymore. You’re not a very talkative person, but it feels weird to have something hanging over the two of you, left unsaid. Even if he never wants to see you again, you want to lay it all out. 

“Your brother seems passionate about it.” Colt points out. 

“Ramzi doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

A beat.

“If it’s not official, there’s definitely something unofficial going on, though, right?” 

“I guess.” 

“Is he nice? The man giving you an unofficial proposal?” 

“He’s Malik.” You say flatly. “He is… The best option.” Your only option.

“But does he treat you well?” Colt presses. 

“What does it matter?” You snap, stopping so you can turn to face him. You will not cry. “Who cares if he’s nice?”

“It matters because it’s you! I care, I want to know that you are living well. That you get the life you deserve.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but the intensity of his words wraps around you, squeezes you tight. 

That’s the issue with Colt, you think to yourself. He makes it so damn hard to hate him. 

“Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe this is as good as it gets for me in this life.”

You turn your back on him, heading right back to your tent. You will not cry. Colt is so stupid. He probably thinks marriage is built on silly things, like love. You will not cry.

Putting one foot in front of the other takes a tremendous amount of effort, but you make progress. When you think you’re a far enough distance to not run immediately back to his side, you dare to turn around.

He’s still rooted in the same spot you left him, staring at you with the most wounded, tortured look you’ve ever seen on a person.

When you’re so far that your figure becomes a tiny speck in the distance, and then that tiny speck disappears, only then does Colt move from his position. He continues to walk, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground. He only looks up when he feels a presence.

“Did she say no?” Nadia asks him. 

“Didn’t even stand a chance.” He smiles sadly at her. It makes sense that you would have suitors lining up to propose to you. Official or not, Ramzi seems certain that it’s a sure thing between you and Malik. Colt feels the pressure of his armband on his bicep. Who was he trying to fool, anyway? It was stupid of him to even bother in the first place. He kicks a rock, watches it skip down the slope of the land. 

“I don’t believe that.” She says. “I think she likes you a lot.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Nadia.”

“I’m not just making things up! I know if you proposed, she would marry you. She would pick you over any other man in the world!” She pauses. “It’s because you didn’t bring any food.”

“She’s upset with me because I didn’t give her any food?” Colt raises an eyebrow. You didn’t seem hangry. Nadia’s childlike conclusion is refreshing, though. If only things were that simple. He would bring you dinner, and everything would be settled. 

“You gave her socks, and I saw her wear your jacket.” Nadia points to the one slung over his shoulder. “Now, you bring her a big meal to prove that you can provide for her and keep her well-fed, and then she invites you to bed.”

“She doesn’t have to invite me to her bed.” Colt quickly looks at everything but Nadia’s earnest expression. 

“You would do all that for her for nothing?” She shakes her head, like she thinks he’s an idiot. Maybe he is. “That’s how you propose. You provide, and then you show her your devotion in her bed, and then she decides if she wants to spend her whole life with you.” Nadia eyes him up and down. “I think she would like your devotion very much.” 

Colt has no answer to that.

“Were you burning something?” He asks instead, nodding to the large bonfire that has fizzled out. All the remains are burnt pieces of wood and ashes. 

“Oh, no!” Nadia gasps, rushing to it. She grabs a stick and pokes at the pile, but nothing happens. “This isn’t supposed to happen!”

“What’s the matter?” 

“Usually, there’s a roaring fire here, so people can gather here and try to warm up during the night. It was harder to get wood these past few days, and they keep sending the men out to work earlier and earlier. I guess the fire was built too fast, and now it’s gone.” She tosses the stick to the ground. “By the time the men get back, it’ll be too dark out to go to the woods and collect enough kindling to get a large enough fire starting.” 

Colt glances down at his watch, then looks up at the sun still hanging high in the sky. 

He’s got time.

By the time he hauls all the dead wood he can find, he’s well acquainted with both the campground and the surrounding woods. Nadia eventually gets a cart on wheels from one of the older ladies, and she brings it to him so he doesn’t have to constantly walk back and forth for small hauls. 

Once he collects all the kindling necessary, he gets to work on starting the fire. He’s sweating, and he thinks Magath would be proud — or as proud as Magath can get, anyway. Today was supposed to be a free day, and here he is, tossing off his military jacket in an attempt to cool down. 

Wearing only his undershirt, Colt takes the ax Nadia offers him, and he begins to chop away at the logs. He wants a decent stash for them, so that way on the days they can’t collect wood, they’ll still have this stockpile. When he gets the fire going, a crowd has already started to form around them. They cheer when they watch the flames grow higher and higher, and for once, Colt almost forgets about you and Malik. 

And then he catches you in the crowd, and the pleasure he feels from not being hated or feared by the people in this camp evaporates. 

Women are approaching him. He catches snippets of their gratitude, their invitations to bring him to their tent, the not-so subtle remarks on their unmarried daughters. He smiles at them, but he doesn’t stop moving until he’s standing in front of you. He didn’t even consciously think about it; his feet just guided him there.

“If I marry him, I won’t work at the brothel anymore.” You tell him. 

As if sensing this is a private moment, the crowd disperses. It’s all an act, though. They’re clearly trying to eavesdrop. Neither of you seem to care.

“That makes sense.”

“If I don’t work at the brothel anymore, I won’t ever see you again.” 

“So this is goodbye, then?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” 

“But we’re never going to see each other again.” He points out.

“If I marry him.” You point that right back at him.

“Are you going to marry him?” 

This seems to be the direction you planned the conversation on heading towards. He’s never seen you so shy, so demure. This nervous silence, the reluctance, it doesn’t suit you. He wants you to confront him head-on, in your usual bold manner.

“Do you see a future with me? One where I’m not the girl who you have to pay to meet in the shady part of town?” His answer determines your answer to Malik. 

“I already don’t see you in that way. You’ve never been just the girl I pay to see.” A glint of silver catches his eye. It brings him back to the sparring match, the one with the Marleyan boy who brought the knife to his face. It’s not a blade, but something on your wrist.

The watch. You’re wearing the watch he gave you. 

“But a future.” You press. “Do you see a realistic future for us?”

Colt’s never given much thought to the immediate future. Most of the time, it feels like his life has been planned for him since the beginning. The cards he’s been dealt with aren’t the greatest hand, but he feels like he makes it work. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t wince, doesn’t go insane. He doesn’t even ask the universe for much. Even when he does make a wish, it’s always for the benefit of others.

If he closes his eyes and pictures a future with you, what does he see? Church bells, and you dressed in white? Kids? No more barriers between the two of you, no more fronts. In an ideal future, you are happy, and you want him by your side. 

Things can’t ever be that simple, but damn it, he at least has to try.

“Yes.” He takes a step forward. The setting sun causes a warm glow to be cast on your face; it envelopes your whole body, actually. You are radiant. He thinks he should tell you that and then wonders if that sounds corny. Probably. He figures he’s said plenty of dumb, cheesy stuff already, and you’re not backing away from him. 

“Radiant?” You repeat, giggling softly. 

You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Colt Grice stares at you in a way no one’s done before, and his refusal to look at you when you’re half-naked comes to mind. He looks at you, and he undresses you, but it’s not clothes he’s trying to take off. He’s peeling layers of your masks, making you shed your faux skins all over the place, in some insignificant corner. Colt Grice stares at you, and he sees you, and it makes you feel special. You’ve spent a majority of your life feeling like gum stuck on the bottom of someone’s shoe, only worth their time when they’re scraping you off, swearing at what an inconvenience you are. 

You notice the watch on his wrist, and you’re pleased to realize that it looks similar to your own, just wider. More masculine. Like “his and her” goods. The feeling of being special only grows. 

“Colt.” You’re going to do something very stupid now. You’ve been feeling it for weeks now, that feeling of him pulling you past the point of no return. If you do this, you know that you’re never going to be able to give him up. Everything will change afterwards. Somehow, the thought of that doesn’t seem as scary or daunting as before. “Can I kiss you, please?” 

This is a real shining moment, Colt thinks. He’ll remember this forever, and when he inherits the Beast, he hopes that this memory gets passed down for all generations. Even if nothing else gets remembered, this certainly will leave its mark on history. 

Your lips are soft, and he tastes something sweet, and he wants to savor it, savor you. He keeps himself in check, forcing himself to not deepen the kiss, and then you’re pulling back from him. 

So this is what kissing is all about, you think to yourself, touching your lips. 

Confession time: sometimes you feel like you don’t know how to be human. You think you spent so long always on edge, always afraid, that you’re starting to forget the fun stuff about being alive. Your job is to do what people are supposed to consider the most ultimate act of intimacy, and you spend all your time disgusted by it. Dissociating from it. Perfecting the art of detachment. 

You give him nothing more than a simple, chaste kiss on the lips. Not even a second (you would know; you feel for the tick of the watch against your wrist). But it’s enough to charge you, leaves you feeling wired, electrified. 

Alive.

You’re aware of your neighbors witnessing this scene. You almost forgot about them, too focused on the man standing in front of you. You watched him, the flex of his muscles and the way he selflessly spent his time to help out the camp. He didn’t have to do that; he doesn’t owe them anything. You think you broke him for a second, turning your back and leaving him like he was nothing. He had every right to just walk out of here and be done with this camp for good. 

But he didn’t. And if he can do that, you can put a stop to Malik’s proposal ritual. You won’t let him in your bed. You won’t let him in your heart. You won’t let anyone in. 

The lingering effects of the kiss still rests on your lips. You don’t realize how hungry you are until you get a tiny taste to whet your appetite. You like kissing, you decide. You wonder why the hell you haven’t done it before.

Colt’s grin is so wide, it makes it hard for you to not try to mimic that happiness. Smiling comes easy when you’re with Colt. It’s like his shiny disposition is infectious, contagious. 

No. You know why you’ve been saving your kiss, your name, the space inside your life, all of it—

—all of it was reserved for this golden soldier.

Colt is still riding the high of the kiss — of the kisses — you gave him. 

Maybe this is finally the universe turning his luck around. Good karma. Every ounce of good he’s done in this lifetime, and he’s finally cashing out. You kissed him. You kissed him. You kissed him.

He can’t even wipe the dopey grin off his face as he checks back into base. He feels like Michael, like he wants to swing his arms and whistle silly tunes. He thinks he could get punched in the face right now, and not even feel a thing. The next time he sees you, Colt decides, he’s going to bring you a feast, and then he’s going to kiss you like a man going off to war.

His spirits are still high as he enters his bedroom, ready to lay down on his bed and relive those kisses over and over again until exhaustion takes control of his body, but he pauses when he sees the thick cardstock folded on his bed. 

It’s closed, sealed with wax that has the Marleyan military coat of arms imprinted on it. He rips into the paper, eyes scanning over the letter quickly. He sees what he’s searching for, letting the paper drop to the ground. 

Fuck. So much for good karma.

This letter serves as your official deployment orders from the Marleyan Military. You are hereby directed to join the offensive operation aimed at capturing Fort Helena. Upon receipt of this letter, you are to report to the designated assembly point where you will receive further instructions and join your assigned unit. Your role in this operation will be briefed in detail upon your arrival.

It is imperative that you prepare for immediate deployment. Ensure your personal affairs are in order, and report with full combat readiness.

[mintdrop]

[Immortals] | [1,443 words] | [vampire/hunter spearmint AU] | [chapter 2] | [prev chapter]

Given that a vampire had much stronger, fast ability to heal than humans, it didn’t take long for Estinien to recover - at least physically. Mentally, he was a mess. That woman; no matter what he did, she wouldn’t leave his mind. Hell, she had even appeared in his dreams at some point, embarrassing as it was to admit. That asshole that had chased him, he said she would regret something. Was she okay? Would she be punished for saving him? But it wasn’t only that -- why did she save him? Wasn’t she a hunter? Wasn’t her entire purpose to kill things like him? It didn’t make sense. His thoughts were absolutely plagued with her, and it was driving him mad.

“You know, you could just go see her.” A voice pulled him from his personal prison, and his clouded eyes focused back to the scene before him. To his left, a man with a near-angelic face sat there with tea in hand, smiling to himself as he watched Estinien awkwardly shuffle in his seat. Black hair framed ethereal blue eyes, and when he spoke, a brief flash of fangs could be seen, betraying a voice that seemed like it would belong to a deity. “Though it was through your own sheer misfortune, you do know where she resides.”

“The other hunters know my face, Aymeric. It would be stupid of me to go back.” His gaze shifted away from his sire, and he adjusted himself so that his elbows were propped up on his knees, mouth buried within the palm of one hand. “Besides, she’s… she would only suffer for it. I’m sure they think I’m dead, with how she treated her own. What would come of it if they found out?”

Aymeric smiled, and took a sip of his tea before placing the cup and saucer down on the table that separated them. “Then shall we go together? I’m curious to see what kind of woman has your mind so tangled.” He stood up from his chair, not giving Estinien any time to voice his objection to the idea. “As it so happens, I have an appointment with Hilda today. Perhaps we could linger about the guild and see if we catch a glimpse of your savior.”

The late fall and winter months were a gift for vampires; though the sun didn’t harm them as much as fairy tales led children to believe, it did make them somewhat uncomfortable compared to humans. But at the end of November, the sun was gone by time the clock struck five, giving the two men a much easier time to blend in with the bustle of the town. Normally, the southern streets would be emptier than those of the north, where all the shops sat. But today, there seemed to be a commotion. Estinien trailed behind Aymeric, who felt much more confident amongst the townspeople than he did; perhaps it was his face, or simply how he presented himself, but he’d never been suspected of being anything other than a normal human by those he interacted with. Today was no different.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” He called out to a passing woman, who stopped dead in her tracks when she noticed the eye candy that had beckoned to her. “I’ve been out of town lately -- could you tell me why it seems to be so active this evening?” 

“Oh, well, y’know those people who work out of that big building a little ways away? The “Hunter’s Guild,” they call themselves. Anyway, there seems to be some kind of argument going on there.” The woman gestures down the road, where a congregation of people seems to be forming. “Somethin’ about a betrayal or the like.”

Aymeric thanks the woman and turns to Estinien, although he is greeted by what could basically be described as an after image of the man. Pulling up the hood of his outerwear, Estinien rushes down the street, brushing past the people forming the crowd until he has a clear view of the center. To the left stands the hunter who had chased him before - his upper leg is bandaged, and he holds onto a single crutch for support. To the right stands Peppermint, arms crossed against her chest. In the center stands another woman, this one unknown to Estinien. Her hair is short, gray tufts ending just beneath her chin. Her eyes are of a similar hue, and if he’d been focused on anything other than wondering what was unfolding before him, he would have been curious to know if she could still see.

“I’m tellin’ you, this bitch here let that vampire go!” The hunter aggressively points towards Peppermint, a select few of his word slurring together; was he drunk? Maybe not, but he was definitely on his way there. “She’s betrayin’ the whole guild, Y’shtola! She needs ta’ be expelled! Locked up!”

Estinien swallowed, his eyes locked on the smaller woman in the center of this mess. Aymeric, who had finally managed to push his way into the group, watched along. Despite his belligerent yells, Y’shtola sighed. 

“You’ve claimed this for the past three days, Arthur, but you’ve shown no proof. The only thing you have to show is that wound through your leg.” She looks down at the bandaged limb, but her eyes show no sympathy. “Which you only sustained because you decided to trespass on her grounds.” The man’s face seemed to change color in an instant, red rising from his neck at a rapid pace.

“So she gets t’shoot me with no consequences?! And even then, she hasn’t shown any proof of her kill!” He points again, nearly spitting in rage. The smaller woman sighs, her shoulders shrugging. Digging into the pocket of her coat, she pulls out a tuft of white hair, tied at the end where it had been ripped from Estinien’s skull, and tossed it to the ground in front of Arthur.

“I hope you didn’t expect me to parade the corpse around like a trophy. Unlike a few of the hunters here,” her eyes narrowed, coldly glaring at the man across from her. “some of us don’t feel the need to glorify what we do just to get women warming our beds for a night.” While her tone was unchanging, Peppermint’s words were filled with venom -- enough to push the other hunter over the edge. 

Pushing his crutch over, he began to sprout profanities towards her, charging towards her with nothing but adrenaline keeping him steady. Estinien pushed to make his way in, only for his arm to be gripped with extreme force, nearly being yanked out of its socket as he was pulled back. He turned his head to see Aymeric, whose “wait” was drowned out by the gasps of the crowd around them. He turned his gaze back to the altercation, watching as Peppermint sidestepped from Arthur’s aimless flailing. She kicked her leg out in front of her, tripping the man and causing him to tumble face-first into the cobblestone. When he got his bearings, nose threatening to show the beginning signs of an injury, he tried to grab at her calf, although she was able to quickly step out of the way. She walked beside Y’shtola, who shook her head.

“You’re a disgrace to the guild, Arthur. You’re suspended as of today. An official hearing will be in order soon.” Walking forward, she picked up the tuft of hair that Peppermint had provided as proof, gesturing to the shorter woman before turning on her heel and retreating back into the guild hall. From the crowd emerged Arthur’s hunting partner, who quickly scrambled to get the man to his feet. Arthur, in return, simply stared at Peppermint with murder in his eyes before being carted away -- most likely to the nearest tavern to drink away his embarrassment. The crowd, sufficiently pleased with how the argument had turned out, began to disperse.

Estinien simply sat there in silence, unsure of what to do now. Does he approach her? Does he even make it known that he’s there? No, he decides; the faster he leaves, the better for both of them. But fate is a cruel mistress, and rather than escape undetected, their eyes meet. Peppermint’s eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s stunned - until Aymeric walks up to her.

“Good evening, miss.” He bows, smiling at her as he meets her gaze. “I believe a friend of mine has been looking for you. Would you like to take a stroll on this lovely winter night?”

[jarofstyles]

Crush

A/N: this one.... biiiitch.... giving you all a little college!harry, he’s so cute 👉🏼👈🏼 enjoy hehe 😈 - n + d

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

send feedback and requests here 

masterlist

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

warnings: smut. FILTH. 

word count: 9.7k

Harry felt a bit creepy. 

It wasn’t as if it was on purpose! No... but she was at all of the places he went. At first he had thought it was a coincidence, but as he developed a routine for his classes, he found that they were often around each other for similar reasons. And usually? He would try and go up, introduce himself, and make a friend. The problem was... she was pretty. 

Not like normal pretty. Pretty as in, holy fuck you make me so nervous and perhaps I’ll word vomit, pretty. He was shit at making the first move. She was in his Monday and Friday classes and sat not far from him, he noticed. And they always ended up at the Coffee Bean on Tuesday and Thursdays, sitting not too far from one another again. She got tea with a few cookies, and he got a black coffee and an orange scone. They’d work on their coursework and Harry would wait for her to leave and see her make it to her car before he would leave, not wanting to make it seem like he was following her. He’s found out her name through friends stopping in to see her. It was Y/N. Gorgeous, just like her.

Funny enough, Harry wasn’t the only one who had a bit of a crush. Y/N realized in the second week of classes that Harry was in fact one of the most intimidatingly cool and attractive men she’d ever seen. College boys weren’t supposed to look like that, but he was all soft in his sweaters and baggy pants. She wasn’t sure how he pulled it off so well, but she could admit she was jealous. 

Seeing him at the Coffee bean was a relief because well, he walked in after her every time. She assumed it was because he had a class that ended later or something, but it didn’t go unnoticed that  he was there. Usually it wasn’t too busy or loud so she could glance at him from the corner of her eye as they sat at one of the big tables. She felt like it would be too weird to talk to him, he seemed so... quiet. She’d never heard him speak, hell, she’d only ever locked eyes with him for milliseconds. Y/N wished she could be one of those girls that could effortlessly flirt, ask for a pencil or something, but she knew she’d freeze up and forget her rehearsed line. 

Today however, when Y/N arrived, Harry was already there at his usual spot. Okay, Y/N... act natural. She thought to herself, going to order her usual before walking to boldly take a seat across from him. It would have worked out fine if her tote bag didn’t accidentally catch the corner of one of his books, sending things flying. 

“Shit— sorry, I—” Y/N swore, setting her bag on the table before bending down to get the book and a few papers and a pen. Real smooth.

Harry was slightly startled when his shit went flying, but when he saw who had knocked it over, his heart picked up. Oh, shit. 

“Oh— it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” Harry’s voice was a bit gruff from not using it much today, pushing his chair back and bending down to grab the stuff with her. “S’my fault for putting it so close to the edge. I used to do that at home and my cat would knock it all off.” 

Great. Already rambling. 

Y/N didn’t register it at first, but he was british? Fuck. If she wasn’t already on her knees she would dropped down anyway, biting her lip to stop any noises that could have escaped. She giggled when he said his cat used to knock things over, “mine too.” She mumbled and went to stand up, feeling a tug at her arm. 

“Ah, shit.” Harry had caught his ring in her sweater, pulling one of the threads. “Damn, I’m so sorry.” He blushed slightly, knowing how annoying it was to have a pulled thread. His collection of sweaters was immense, thanks to his nan— and he felt terrible. Damn his chunky things. “They always get caught in mine too but I wear them anyways. I can replace the sweater, if you need.” Damn it. He was trying to come off as smooth... not so nervous. But he was. She was so pretty and she was up close, she smelled like peaches and vanilla and a bit of sweet mint and her hands were so soft.

“Oh no, It’s fine! it’s old anyway— I can just cut it off or tuck it in or something.” Honestly, Y/N would figure it out. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad, it was an accident after all. She let him untangle it, holding her hand still though it seemed like he needed some help. “Smaller fingers...” She mumbled, using her nails to get the thread gently off of the ring. “‘s a nice ring.” Y/N complimented, finally meeting his eyes and feeling the breath leave her lungs at the close proximity. Her lips parted naturally, scanning his face for any signs of discomfort.

She was beautiful Harry though he may get sick because wow. Wow. He had imagined holding her hand and kissing her but this exact moment he hadn’t a clue on what to do. So he improvised. 

“Are you in the 8 am psych class on Mondays?” He tilted his head. “I know I’ve seen you before.” Oh, he had seen her a lot. Especially in his dreams, day and night. It had been a bit intoxicating, really. At her nod, his grin came on his face. “Sick. S’that what you’re gonna study for?” He didn’t bring up the other class because... it would be embarrassing if she hadn’t noticed him before and he knew all too much. He needed a refill of his coffee though so he grabbed his cup, gently taking her things and placing them on the table next to his. “At least let me buy your stuff though. I feel awful about your sweater.”

“I’m actually just waiting on them to finish making mine, I was on my way to secure a spot but—” Y/N blushed, realizing the mess she had made. “Could you get it for me while you’re up there? It’s for Y/N. I can sit here and watch your stuff.” She felt like that was a subtle way for her to tell him her name. 

This was the most she had ever spoken to him and it had been about a month or so that she’d been eyeing him up. She knew he was in her English literature class as well, but psych was her major. Y/N wondered if maybe he too was a psych major, maybe that’s why they sort of had the same schedule? Regardless, she felt a bit nervous making conversation so she spent the time he was away coming up with what she was going to ask him and how she was going to keep the ball rolling. Hopefully she didn’t interrupt his studying, if anything she’d leave him alone.

“Y/N?” He tested it on his tongue out loud for the first time. It tasted good. “Yeah. M’Harry. I’ll be back.” He nodded, going towards the front. His heart going a mile a minute, he couldn’t believe how quickly his luck had changed. He ordered an extra cake pop today, for her. she had said it didn’t matter but to him, it did. Eventually he hoped he could buy her a replacement. Or... maybe she could wear his around. Wow. That would stroke his ego and his fragile heart to the core. He could already see her on his lavender fishermen’s sweater, in front of his fireplace back at home. She would be so cute. The voice calling her name snapped him out of the fantasy, Harry grabbing it and then his own shortly after before returning to the table. “Here. I got the last cake pop for you. Don’t tell anyone I’m the offender.”

“Ooo you’re a dead man if they find out.” Y/N said, looking around before gently taking it from him. “Thank you... that’s sweet.” She blushed, taking a bite of it before taking a sip of her chai latte. Now that she had stuff to fiddle around with she could take a breather and not have to worry about filling space. “But um.. did interrupt something? Don’t want to distract you...” Y/N nodded over to his laptop, secretly hoping that he wasn’t up to much so that she could chat to him. She just wanted to know the basics, literally anything would satisfy her craving. Harry was quite literally her wet dream, she’d been looking all around campus for someone like him to come around. “I uh... I think I’m also in your English lit class? I feel like I see you around often.” Y/N spoke, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ear. “What’s your major?” She felt like this conversation was light, something that would eventually lead into other things like... if he was single and looking for a girlfriend.

“Oh, you’re not bugging me. I’ve kind of been staring at the screen and zoning out if m’honest.” Harry chuckled, embarrassed a little to admit it. But everyone could relate to that, right? “And yeah... actually I think so.” He smiled lightly before taking a sip of his drink. Victory! She had noticed him too. He wasn’t the lonely creep who stared at the first who had no idea who he was. She knew who he was, kind of. He gently drew his sweater over his hands like little paws before going to her question. “English. I want to write and stuff, edit maybe. My dad has a publishing company so, I’m lucky I like a bit of the family business.” He tried to joke, looking at her. God. It was unnerving how beautiful and also, how fucking comfortable she was to be around. What a contrast. “And you? What major?” He took a nibble of his scone, not wanting to make a mess.

English? He’s a writer? Goodness. She was going to lose it. 

“That’s cool, any specific genre you like to write?” Y/N asked curiously because well, it would actually tell her a lot about him and the kind of person he was. “I picture some mystery or possibly poetry, could go either way.” She said and squinted her eyes as she looked at him, pretending to size him up. “I can’t say I’m all that interesting, a psych major. Just like every other artsy person who doesn’t exactly want to commit to an art degree.” Y/N chuckled, “still deciding between criminal justice or counseling but... either way I’d be happy to get to pick someone’s brain. She did have the habit of analyzing people but only so she could understand them better. Y/N knew that all people wanted at the core was to be understood and loved for who they are, for the most part. Harry seemed reserved, calm and relaxed, secure in himself that’s for sure. It was extremely attractive.

“Oh? That’s really cool though.” Harry was genuinely interested in what she had to say either way. The major didn’t matter in his interest in her but it gave him information and something to talk about. If she was marketing or math he would be just as interested. “Criminal seems particularly interesting. Like that criminal minds show then? You’ll learn how they work and all of that?” He didn’t really know what it meant or why she had chosen it. “But close. I write romance novels.” He blushed fully. “Don’t judge me for it. But s’easy for me and I’m good at it, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been writing for a while.” He felt himself loosen up as they talked. Even if she intimidated him, she was really nice and sweet. “Poetry too, lots of it. But romance is my main thing, I’d like to do novels and that sort of stuff.” He could see she didn’t think it was lame, rather interesting. Which was a major relief. He wanted to impress her, so so badly.

“Sorta, yeah. Like... being able to predict a criminal's next move, psychologically.” Y/N explained and shrugged, “feel like it’s really fun and interesting but terrifying all at once. Dunno if I could actually interview a criminal without feeling like it was going to cry.” She let out a laugh, knowing she was quite soft. Her face lit up when he said he wrote romance novels. Wow. Well, as if he wasn’t a character right out of a romcom himself! She felt like that’s what this was. A romcom. Bumping into him at a coffee shop like a scene straight from one. “Really?! So you’re a proper romantic then? Buy the last cake pop for every girl, hmm?” She gave him a bashful smile. The very last thing she was doing was judge, she was more so thinking about their wedding. Yep. Already. Daydreaming because she swore she’d hit the jackpot. Wasn’t even sure if he liked her yet, but she was hopeful. After all, she’d turned on her charm.

“I guess I am.” Harry smirked to himself slightly at the good reception. Damn. He had been so worried and hesitant- he should have just talked to her. She wasn’t... that scary. Only a little bit. 

He let her talk a bit more about her degree and Harry went on to speak about his favorite authors, and then the conversation shifted towards their classes and how he had been struggling slightly in psych— which led to her offering to help. Harry was shocked because honestly he hadn’t expected it from her, but he was pleased. He was happy to have an excuse to hang out with her more. See more of her and be able to teach himself to relax properly around her. He felt like a damn wind up toy, giddy and excited. 

“That would be so helpful, if you could. And if you don’t mind.” He stressed. “I have a place off campus, if you’d want to go there? I’ll buy you some pizza or something for your help.” He was a giver and if it meant getting a $20 pizza for her because he wanted good quality, then he would!

“Yeah, that sounds good.” Y/N was practically jumping up and down with joy in her mind, this was a turn of events. She went from secretly crushing on him to being invited over his house in only a few hours. “I can never say no to pizza, but it’s really no problem. They say if you can teach it to someone else then you truly understand it so it’ll be a good test for me. Y/N also knew that they wouldn’t just study. Come on. It was a Friday night and study was practically code for hook up, especially considering he had invited her to his place and not the library. She had to prepare, had to make sure she looked cute and everything. She’d shower before hand too, the whole nine. “I can be there around 6?” Y/N suggested, checking her calendar app even though she already knew when she could come. She had to at least look like she wasn’t jumping at the idea.

“That’s cool. Uh— here, if you want I can put my number in your phone and whenever you want I can text you the address?” Oh, fuck. How, how the tables have turned. He had gone from wistfully staring at her every day to having a scheduled study session with her, the girl he’d been practically having wet dreams about. Having a full conversation and then her having his number! He was giddy and playing with the sleeves of his sweater as a result of the excited nerves. “Do you have any allergies? I do have a kitten at home.” He wanted to make sure he wouldn’t have to put Marie away. He loved his baby but he wanted to try something and see if she would be cool with him in a private setting. It would be less hard to talk about deeper things without people around. He took her phone from her and typed in his number, adding his name with a little  📚 after it. That wasn’t too much, right?

“Aw you do! I have one too, well... he thinks he’s a big boy.” Y/N shook her head at the thought of her sweet little Milo. Despite not doing anything she planned to do at the coffee shop, it still felt like a productive day in her eyes. Finally getting to chat with Harry felt like a breath of fresh air and he wasn’t all that scary now that she got to chatting with him. She took her phone back and smiled at the cute little emoji, sending him a text to let him know it was her before hesitantly getting up. “Alright well, I gotta get back to my kitten... but, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Y/N smiled, watching him stand up as well. The two of them walked out of the coffee shop and to their cars, Y/N being bold enough to give him a hug before opening her car door. “Night!” She was surprised with herself. Y/N was proud, completely over the moon and honestly she wasn’t sure how she was going to sleep tonight.

-----

Harry laid out on the bed that night with Marie on his chest. He had told her all about how the pretty Y/N had met him and that she would be coming over. The pretty cat was a long haired white kitty, and she purred along with Harry as he spoke. She liked hearing Harry be happy. It made him want to squeak when he heard his phone buzz and a little text from her popped up— he saved her as ‘Y/N 🌼’ because he felt like it fit. Part of him wanted to put a heart but he would be mortified if she saw and thought it was weird. She wore a yellow flower shirt one day so he figured that’s what he could excuse it as. 

‘Hey, happy to hear from you! :) I hope your kitty is doing well. I meant to ask, you aren’t vegetarian are you?’

Y/N smiled at his text and attached a photo of her gray kitten laying across the top of her head while she laid down. 

‘Yes, he’s quite cozy.’

‘I am actually! But I’m not too fussy.’ 

She couldn’t help it, she loved animals and she couldn’t bring herself to do it anymore. Occasionally, she would indulge in a chicken nugget or seafood, but for the most part she didn’t feel like she had to. 

‘I’m going to get some sleep though, Good night Harry 💓’

That wasn’t too much was it? It was just a heart! She sent them to everyone. Y/N stayed up for a good ten minutes just digesting the day. Tomorrow would be even better, she had a feeling.

——

Harry was... well, he wasn’t sure how to describe the emotion. When Niall inevitably quizzed him on why he was acting strange, the best he had come up with was a mix of nerves and giddiness, also terror and extreme happiness. He was going to hang out with the girl he had been silently crushing on— and they had been texting quite frequently in the short time they had each other’s numbers. Was this going to be a regular thing? Was it going to blossom into more? He knew that he had wasted time before, not talking to her. She wasn’t scary! No... she was so sweet and kind and beautiful and everything she said made him a literal heart eye emoji. She had taken to sending him random photos, even so quickly in and it felt comfortable. He had even sent her a shot of Marie on the counter this morning, on top of his school notes. It was odd. The excitement he felt when he heard the bing from his phone of the vibration in his pocket... it was incredible. He liked this feeling. Damn it. This was such a new thing. He wanted to do more. 

He saw her in class, watching as she crept in a bit after the last call should be with a sheepish smile on her face. He waved to her silently and watched her climb up, his heart beating quicker when she chose a seat closer to his than before. She wanted to sit near him? He clutched the rainbow patchwork sweater by the sleeves and fiddled with the cuffs, nerves and excitement swirling in his tummy.

If class wasn’t already on, Y/N knew she would have tried to spark up some conversation with Harry, but for now all she could manage was passing him a note. 

‘I like your cardigan :)’

It was really cute. Most of Harry’s wardrobe was and in her dream world she already stole a few to wear. English literature wasn’t exactly the most exciting class, but Harry seemed invested. Y/N enjoyed watching him focus and take notes while she mostly doodled some random flowers and bears in her notebook. Her mind was thinking about what she was going to wear to his house and how she definitely needed a shower before and that she had to put on the lotion that matched her perfume. Was she overthinking this? Maybe. Of course it was just a study date, but you could never be too sure where things could go. And if they did— she wanted to be ready.

He knew that he needed to contain himself but his smile made it hard. She liked his cardigan. The random compliment had him feeling mushy and happy and there was definitely a blush on his cheeks as he clicked his pen and wrote back to her. 

‘Thanks :) my nan knitted it for me. I like your little head band.’ 

He passed it back before opening his notebook back up. Her stare could be felt and he wanted to smirk a little at it because, well, who wouldn’t? She was so great, and he wanted to experience more of her but he was trying to not rush shit. He was a romance writer after all. All of it felt so in tune with his own wants and he had a hard time believing it was real. Sweet little Y/N wanted to hang out with him and she complimented his cardigan!

‘Awe!! That’s cute and thank youuuu 🥰’ 

She drew him a little smiley face with hearts around it, felt like it was very on brand for her and her emotive texting. Y/N felt all giddy because she had made a new friend but she was really hoping they wouldn’t just be friends. 

Y/N knew she was hard to read because she was generally nice to everyone and honestly, Harry seemed to be the same way. She could only assume he liked her because he asked her to hang out so quickly. And he’d bought her a cake pop and was planning on buying pizza tonight. Was it a date then? Gosh, she needed to stop reading into it. Her leg kept bouncing up and down, mind trying to refocus and thankfully, their professor was discussing something she too had noticed in her reading. She still managed to steal quick glances at Harry for the rest of the class, giving him shy little smiles. It wasn’t till class ended that she ended up speaking to him, but even that was quick. She needed to get home and get ready.

Harry had gotten a quick hi, and a ‘see you tonight!’ With her hand brushing his arm before she skipped off to.. wherever she went. And that had him nearly sprinting home. Cleaning top to bottom, vacuum, scrub, vacuum again. Changed his sheets— why, he wasn’t sure— put his laundry in the basket, filled up Marie’s food and water, fluffed the pillows, cleaned the windows and coffee table... he did it all. Even cleaned out the fridge! Like she would care? Harry didn’t know. All he did know was that he was finally showered and smelled nice, hair fixed and the pumpkin patch candle was lit! The tv was on low because he was nervous and needed some filler noise to keep himself from overthinking.

Y/N was doing the same, not cleaning her apartment but cleaning herself. She stripped out of her clothes when she got home and immediately got into the shower, taking one of those full maintenance ones for good measure. Once she was positive she was squeaky clean and smelled nice, she jumped out to take the next steps. God, she really wanted to impress him. He’d been her crush for a while and she needed this. She wanted to look like she didn’t put in my effort when she did so she decided to put on some light makeup and chose an outfit that was more laid back. Usually, she was seen wearing sweaters and jeans, nothing too fancy, so that’s exactly what she settled on. Y/N wanted to look warm and inviting. 

Milo mewed beneath her feet as she collected all her study supplies, rubbing against her ankles in need of attention. “I’m sorry bubs, I know I didn’t get to spend lots of time with you today but don’t be too mad.” Y/N pouted, picking him up and giving him a cuddle for a few minutes. She held him up to her chest as she finished up, deciding she needed to leave now.

‘Leaving now, be there in 20 ✨’

She sent, hopping into her car with nerves bubbling up in her stomach. God, she really hoped tonight went well.

——

When Harry heard the knock at the door he shot up, wiping his sweaty hands on his pants before forcing himself to be slow, walking to the door. And when he opened it, it really did feel like being hit in the gut. Seeing someone so beautiful, so up close? It got to him. He had to admit that. Y/N has this natural beauty that he drooled over. That felt like a hit. Every time he saw her he swore she got more beautiful. 

“Hi.” He spoke with a smile, opening the door up for her. “Come inside. Marie is wandering around so I have to close the door. A little escape artist, she is.” He joked, letting her scurry in and close the door behind her.

“Hey! Oop— okay!” Y/N giggled and stepped past him into his apartment. It was very cute and very tidy. Y/N felt a little flutter in her belly, it was freshly cleaned. She stepped out of her shoes before further examining the decor. The style was something she very much expected for Harry, it was cozy and artsy. Lots of earth tones and that sweet autumn smell coming from the candle made her feel that much more excited. “It’s so nice in here! I love the pillows.” Y/N complimented, liking how some were fluffy and some had funky patterns on them. It was then that she heard a meow from below, Marie sniffing at her sock covered toes. “Oh hi there... sorry if you can smell Milo on me, gave me lots of snuggles before I left.” Y/N cooed down to the kitten, dropping down so she was closer to the ground and extended her hand for her to sniff and get used to. 

Y/N realized this was very real now, especially because he had gone out of his way to make his place look nice. Most guys wouldn’t care, but maybe Harry did this for everyone. When she stood back up and turned to face him, she got a whiff of him and noticed his semi damp hair. He showered too. Oh—

Harry smiled at her and Marie, happy his kitten seemed to like her. Usually she would sniff his friends and run off but she began to weave over her legs and beg for pets. He was in awe. Christ. She had him by the balls already. 

“Do you want anything to drink? I’ve got diet soda... apple juice, lots of teas. And water.” He hummed, going into the kitchen with her behind him. It was an open concept though, the kitchen the first thing near the door and it opened into a large living area, the hall down going to the master bedroom. It was simple but perfect for him in college. He gave her a moment to think it over as he looked at her. So cozy and... cuddly. He wanted to slide his hands under her sweater and feel her warm skin and nuzzle into the crook of her neck, let her fingers play through his hair.

“Apple juice sounds good.” Y/N smiled, having picked up Marie at this point to carry her into the kitchen with them. She had a feeling she’d get along just great with Milo if they ever got to meet. “You’re a sweet little thing, aren’t you?” Y/N cooed at the kitten, seeing her comfortably settled against her. “Does your Daddy spoil you with snuggles too?” She asked toying with her little paw before looking up at Harry with a smile. He had fumbled a bit with the lid of the juice at her words which made her giggle, “How are you? How was your day today?” Y/N was genuinely curious, deciding to make some small talk before actually sitting down. In her head she could already imagine the two of them hanging out here constantly, tangled up in one another, kissing and laughing and doing all the cute things that Harry likely wrote about in his stories.

“I’m— im good.” Harry’s mouth was dry. He knew that she hadn’t meant anything by it, but he heard her say ‘daddy’ in reference to him, and his stupid cock had jumped, tummy felt hot. Damn it. He wished he wasn’t so deprived but... she had been at the forefront of his mind. “It was a good day. I was happy to talk to you. You’re fun to talk to.” He meant it too. She was so interesting and funny and he was completely whipped and okay with it. Damn. He wished he had maybe a bit more restraint with his imagination but he didn’t. Not at all. “I have a harder time meeting people... i can be a little shy sometimes. I’m in my own head a lot you know? I have my core group of friends but... it’s hard to get to know people. I want to know them.” Her. That translates to her.

“Yeah?” Y/N felt her heart jump. He was happy to speak with her even just a little bit? He wanted to talk to her and get to know her? It wasn’t just a one sided thing. They were both making an effort in their own way and she was thinking someone had to break the tension. “I’m happy you think so.” Y/N blushed, “I um... I also like talking to you.” She had her little friend group as well but she never thought she’d actually end up being friends with Harry. Listening to him explain how reserved he was definitely made her feel special though. He chose to open up to her, she was special enough for that and that made her cheeks grow warm once again. “I’ll tell you just about anything you want to know.” Y/N smiled, hesitantly placing Marie down before taking a few steps closer to him to get her glass of apple juice.

“Ooooh, a little daunting. Anything? Your social security number?” Harry was joking. Trying to clear the air and make her relax because she was a bit shy too and he wanted her to be comfortable here. This place should be a good spot for her. He motioned for her to come sit on the couch with him, Marie trailing after Y/N. Little traitor had a new favorite already but... he couldn’t say he could blame her. “I dunno... it’s hard sometimes, in this age to make genuine friendships. Feels like everyone’s already got their friend groups and you don’t want to infringe upon them yeah? And... I write a lot. I’m not a partier. Not to sound cliche but again.... I’m a writer.” He chuckled.

“I said just about!” Y/N chuckled, shaking her head to herself at his joke. She felt like she was an open book, she was pretty open with the things she liked and generally she aimed to spread positivity and love where she could. Her hobbies included lots of things, music, knitting, reading, gardening. That kind of stuff. “But yeah, I get that... I’ve been pretty content with my group of friends, though I think most people are open to making new ones. At least I am... I am a bit shy though.” Y/N took a sip of her apple juice before setting it down on the coffee table again. “Yeah, you said. Romance novels.” She smiled and leaned back into the couch, getting comfortable. “What sorts of romance novels?” What? Could you blame her for wanting to know what sort of content was in them? Maybe it could give her some insight on what he wanted.

“Oooooh. Hard hitting stuff.” Harry huffed out playfully. “I’m... it’s a variety, I think. I’ve done supernatural, classic tropes, historical romance was very fun. I am partial to enemies to lovers or forbidden romances though. They’re the most fun to write.” Y/N genuinely looked like she cared so he continued. “I’ve been trying out different stuff but....” he blushed again. “I’m... looking at erotica right now.” It wasn’t something he usually would blurt out but hey, she seemed trustworthy. Plus she didn’t seem like she would judge either. It was a new favorite of his. The rawness of it and writing sex scenes... it was amazing. Reading it, writing it, he thought he could do some on the side and sell it under a pen name. It would be a fun thing to try.

Erotica. This man sat down and wrote detailed sex scenes, likely kinky, for fun? Thankfully she didn’t have any juice in her mouth because it surely would have been spat out. 

“H-how are you finding it?” She asked, reaching for her apple juice because she felt like she couldn’t sit still now. How else was she supposed to go about things when all she could think about was sex. Sex with him specifically. Y/N wasn’t blind, she knew that Harry was very attractive and very much gifted with beautiful hands. She could only assume he would have a wonderful cock as well. She knew there was no way someone so quite couldn’t have the filthiest of minds, she knew hers was. Her fantasies were where she roamed free.  

“I mean... I do like it a lot, actually. I hope that doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy but I like to be able to write something like that. It’s freeing, in a sense.” Harry couldn’t really properly describe why but, he was a kinky dude. You’d never think it. He was soft and wore sweaters a lot and drank tea at home from a kitty mug but he was.... a kinky fucker. And he loved sex. There was just something about it. He wanted to try more and more of it but he had a tendency to get attached to his partners, even hook ups... so he had put that on a hault. 

“I’d like to read some...” Y/N felt like at some point, she’d want to read his writing. If he felt comfortable now she didn’t mind. It was just writing, wasn’t it? 

“You want to?” She looked at him with bright eyes and her a fast nod so Harry decided to say, fuck it. If they were going to work as friends... or lovers, which is what Harry really wanted... she would need to accept this side. He grabbed his laptop and boosted it on, letting himself grab the latest completed scene. “Here. You can read this, i'll order the pizza.” There were obvious nerves in his belly from letting her read filthy smut from his computer but Y/N... she was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but she was.

They were meant to be studying. 

That was long forgotten though as Y/N nodded and got comfortable on the couch with his laptop sat in her lap. It felt a bit taboo, but she figured she could separate the writer from the story. 

The scene was from a male character’s perspective, describing him having a long and hard day at work where all he could think about was his partner. Y/N felt her face get progressively warmer as the character spoke about his partner, she couldn’t help but imagine this was how Harry was when he was horny and needy. 

Y/N knew that if she was his, she would certainly brighten up his mood after a tough day at work. Seeing her own name in the document however proved that Harry thought the same. Her eyes nearly bulged out of her head, her eyes lifting from the screen to look up at him as he ordered the pizza completely unaware of her discovery. 

This is what he imagined? This is what he wanted to do.... with her?

Harry ordered two cheese pizzas and some cinnamon dessert thing because there was a a special going on. He had thought about getting more but he didn’t want to go overboard with it, so he finished the order. Thank god for online ordering.

“Okay... it’ll be here in 25 minutes I think.” He hummed, looking up and freezing slightly. She looked blushy and her eyes wide as she read the post and he wondered why she looked a bit startled. “Hey... y’alright love?” He asked quietly. God damn it. Had he freaked her out too much? Was it just too much in general for the first time they properly hung out? He couldn’t remember exactly what scene he had pulled up. Just that it was recent, a billionaire type of thing.

Y/N casually moved the laptop on to the coffee table without answering his question. She didn’t think twice before she climbed on to his lap, hands settling on his shoulders. Sure, it was a risky move, but after what she’d read? She felt like she had to make her move. She wanted to be just as hot and sexy as he had imagined her to be. Harry’s shocked expression made her smile, hand going up to cup his cheek. 

“You left my name in the document...” Y/N’s voice spoke low and slow, thumb brushing over his now parted lips. Never did she think she could be so bold so soon, but fuck did it feel good. She felt so powerful, so sexy, and so so horny. “Thought about me riding your cock so much you wrote about it?” Y/N whispered, leaning in to kiss the skin just below his ear before nibbling at the skin. “Noticed me before we properly met... thought about me... is this what you wanted, baby?”

Harry blanked. 

Oh. fuck.

He hadn’t expected her to climb into his lap. Climbing on and straddling him, cupping his cheek, talking in that hot little voice that had his cock filling a bit. Holy fucking shit. 

“Oh—” He was cut off by her thumb over her lip. She was into it, into him. How had this happened? He had to be dreaming. But... no. Her heat was too real to be a dream. Her eyes too clear and dark, her smell too real. It was real. “Y-yeah...” He whispered, gasping when she kissed his skin, hand grabbing her waist. Oh, hell. Under his pants, his cock was quickly hardening. You couldn’t blame him, his dream woman, his crush, was straddling his lap and kissing his neck. Talking like this. 

“Thought about it ‘lots.” He muttered. She was so bold for this and that was something he found so sexy. When her teeth scraped his skin and bit down a bit harder, a dark groan left his mouth, hand on her waist tightening. “Holy shit... Y/N.”

“Hmm... feels good?” Y/N questioned, licking over the spot that she bit before moving to a new one. “Think I can make you cum in 25 minutes?” Y/N felt like she could take on the challenge, his cock was already hardening beneath her and she was a bit of foreplay away from being completely soaked. “Wanna try all of it, yeah?” Y/N muttered, nipping at the spot just where his jawline met his neck. “Riding your cock.... you bending me over, can choke me too. Please do...” She moaned at the thought, her hormones completely taking over. He still seemed to be frozen, despite his hand now on her waist so she moved her hips forward a little bit and tugged at his hair. “Wanna make you feel good.” 

Y/N had a kink for giving but it seemed Harry did as well. She expected a needy hook up, rough touches, quickness, pure lust. It’s exactly what she needed. It’s been a while since she’d hooked up with anyone and she was desperate for Harry to break her dry spell.

“Ah, shit.” Harry hissed. The tug at his hair sent a shock of hot arousal down his spine. That got him going so quickly. She wanted to fuck? Right now? He would be a fool to say no, and he wasn’t raised a fool. “Yeah? Y’want to ride my cock?” He asked lowly. “Fucks sake... I didn’t know you were so dirty.” He never would have guessed it from her either but... they were here. And he was snapped out of his shock by the tug, and now he was ready to do whatever the fuck she let him. “What did y’want the most, love? Tell me.” He had taken into account that she wanted to be choked, raising a hand to gently cuff her throat, bringing her close to his face. The confidence was soaring now, and all because she was leaking it. She wanted it, desperately. “I said, tell me.” He gave a quick squeeze to her throat. “Want to know what you need.”

“Need your cock, daddy.” Y/N moaned out, eyes blown and glazed over with desire. Y/N could feel the tension in her bones, cunt throbbing and aching to be touched. “Need you so bad, please— wanted you for so long, please make me cum, please!” She pleaded, fully giving into the fantasy. Y/N was never one to hold back and from what she had read, he certainly didn’t want her to. Her body felt like it was on fire, hands grabbing fist fulls of his sweater in hopes that he’d just take it off. Y/N wasn’t sure what type of body would be beneath it, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to feel his warm skin, lick and kiss all that she could while she worked her magic. Y/N waited for his directions, falling into the submissive role easily despite her initial approach. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’re gonna have to re-write that scene.”

Harry was going to give this girl any fucking thing she wanted. He let her guide his sweater off, the cool air hitting his skin not even getting a chance because her hands and mouth were all over him. It was like she had fallen into a heat, and Harry.... he loved it. He placed his hands under her sweater, feeling her hands smooth over his chest as she kissed at his neck and over his jaw. Her skin was hot under the sweater, his hands gripping her waist and smoothing over her hips, going up and sip to her ribs where he realized— fuck. 

“Not wearing a fucking bra?” He hissed. “Jesus... you’re a little minx, aren’t you? Off with this.” He spoke lowly, grabbing the ends of it but barely had a shot before Y/N ripped it off of her body. Fucks sake. She was sexier than he had ever imagined. “My god... you’re so sexy, baby.” He whispered, sitting up and burying his face between her breasts. Kissing the hot skin between them, working his way up with the wet, open mouthed kisses to her throat.

“Oh Daddy...” Y/N’s body shuddered at the feeling of his mouth on her, head falling back as she let out a happy sigh. He seemed to like her hand in his hair so she happily gripped at his locks as he scattered kisses over her skin. “Come ‘ere...” She whined, guiding him up to her lips. “Wanna taste your mouth.” Making eye contact with him in this moment felt intimate. All those quick glances in classes and at the coffee shop, all the day dreaming, it all built up to this moment where she fully felt she could let herself let go. The both of them wanted this, it was so reassuring, this was a safe space and they could do whatever they wanted. Y/N’s body rolled forward, pushing him further back onto the couch and angling her hips so she could tease the both of them before she let herself have it. Fuck was he hard... and full. Another moan left her lips, sounding more like a plea and cry for more.

“Fuck me... you’re needy. I love it.” Harry hissed, pulling her mouth to his. It wasn’t soft. No, this kiss... it was hot. Heavy. Her mouth opened and immediately he dragged his tongue inside, meeting hers. She tasted like the apple juice and a bit of mint, and he could groan just from how good it was. Sweet little Y/N wasn’t too innocent at all. “Fuck— keep teasing me like that. S’like you want to end up crying.” He had a feeling now that she did. She wanted his cock inside of her pussy, thrusting in and out and letting herself soak him. Yeah... he wanted it too. “Keep calling me daddy. You’re so dirty. Who would have fucking... known.” He spoke between the kisses, hands going for her jeans. He wanted them off, like hours ago. He was finally going to get her. “M’gonna lay you out in my bed after... first m’gonna fuck you, but M’gonna clean out your cunt with my tongue. And then M’gonna take you again. Yeah?” She has come for studying but was staying for hot sex and he hoped to turn it into a nice marathon. He had all weekend and he was hoping she wouldn’t have to go. He had too many idea for her. “Gonna let daddy lick it up?”

“Fuck— yes, gonna let daddy have his way with me...” She kept her hips rolling against his slowly, keeping the rhythm in check with the passionate kiss they were sharing. Y/N already knew this was going to be the best sex of her life, the kiss alone let her know that. His tongue would work wonders on her cunt and she’d be more than happy to return the favor. Hesitantly, Y/N began to stand to get her jeans off, one of her hands staying put on the back of his neck so the kiss didn’t break. She let him fiddle with the zipper, feeling his fingers hook both her jeans and underwear before yanking them down to which Y/N let out a little squeal. 

Y/N knew she had to pull away from the kiss for air but she didn’t want to, waiting till the very last minute until she couldn’t anymore and went to get his jeans off.

“Come on. Be good.” He murmured against her lips, brushing his hips up so she could get his pants off. She tugged and easily they came down, Harry kicking them off as he pulled her back in his lap. His hands gripped her bare ass and groaned when she pushed into them, not thinking twice before pulling his hand back and smacking it the sound rang in the room and she let out the most sexy noise against his mouth, making him hiss. Fuck. He wanted her so fucking badly. This girl... she was everything. One hand went to feel and fuck. Fuck shit, motherfuck, it was wet. She was so, wet. “Jesus— you’re so wet. Baby— holy shit, you’re soaked.” He whispered. “S’cause of me? You wanted daddy’s cock this bad?” He pulled his fingers off slightly, the arousal still stringing to his fingers. He placed them at her mouth and pushed them in. “That’s it. Clean them up, sweet girl. You’re so filthy, y’know that? Precious little thing. So slick and hot, want cock so fucking bad don’t you?” He cooed, feeling her suck on the digits. “Now.... rub it against your pussy. Don’t put it in yet. get it wet.”

Y/N sucked at his fingers as if it were her job, making sure to treat it like she would his cock which included eye contact. She loved looking at him, seeing his hungry expression and his eyes that seemed to say so much more than he did. Even the feeling of her cunt sliding over his cock sent tingles up her spine. It had never affected her this much with other guys, but she assumed it was different with Harry because she had wanted him for so long. Y/N let out a whimper, feeling a gush of wetness accumulate when he pushed his fingers in farther. Harry was hot in ways she couldn’t explain, there were little things he did that just hit the spot and made her want to fuck him even harder. Y/N was practically bouncing on his cock, aching for him to let her have it inside.

“You’re such a good girl. Listening so fucking well.” Harry took his fingers from her mouth, smirking at the whine and slight chasing of his fingers when he placed it on her breast. She gave it all to him and honestly, he was ready to just... lose it. “Go ahead. Take what you want.” It was not even a moment later that he felt her begin to sink down. She was tight— so damn tight, and he choked slightly at just how good the squeeze was. He let out a hiss, head thrown back in the couch as the slick, hit cunt sucked over him, squeezing hard as she stretched open slowly. “Holy fuck.” He growled, gripping both hips now and looking at her with a darkness in his eyes. “You’re so bloody tight— Christ, you’re squeezin’ me so good.” He whispered.

“Daddy!” She whimpered as she slid farther down on his cock until she couldn’t fit anymore of him in. “I’m so full— feels so good.” Her eyes rolled back a bit as she began to bounce at a slowed rhythm. Small moans and little huffs came from her throat with every stroke of her hips, it wasn’t until she felt warmed up that she actually went for it. Y/N shifted so that she had better balance, keeping her hands on his shoulders before dropping back down on his cock. “Fuck!” She squeaked, making sure to clench one her way back up before repeating the action at a quicker pace. It felt incredible. He was touching every little part of her, feeling small waves of pleasure spread throughout her body. “Daddy! Fuck— feels so good ahhh!” Her moans were pornographic, whiny, desperate and needy. She didn’t even know she could sound like that, but apparently it was possible when she was as thirsty for cock as she was.

Never would he have guessed that this would be the outcome of their hang out. He had hoped, sure. Dreamed? Absolutely. But the reality was so much better. He had the hot, wet and extremely tight pussy gliding up and down his cock. She was moaning, tits bouncing in his face, and she was vocal. More than he could have asked for. The infatuation he had with her was only growing. 

“Fuck, you’re a good girl. Such a perfect little cunt. Like bouncing on my cock, hm? Knew you’d be the perfect girl for me. Keep going.” His hand squeezed her ass, encouraging her to work herself on him. “Feels so full, yeah? Such a big cock filling such a little pussy. A nice stretch for you hm? So eager to be filled up...” her face was of pure bliss and Harry couldn’t help but take a mental photo. He hoped this could happen more than this once. “Knew you’d be good for me. Throwin’ yourself in my lap and begging to be fucked. Never guessed you’d be such a little slut, but I love it.” He took his hand, bringing it down sharply on her ass.

“Fuck!” Y/N gasped, her own hand moving to cuff his neck. It wasn’t as effective as him doing it to her, but it got the point across. The both of them grabbing at each other roughly, him thrusting up into her each time she slammed down. It could only be described as pure ecstasy, surely the hottest sex she had ever had. She needed him, she needed him to cum. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from leaning down to kiss his mouth again, making a mess of the two of them. “You’re so fucking good— love your cock, daddy... fucking love it!” She moaned between kisses, increasing her pace just enough so she could fuck him hard and steady. “I want you to cum for me daddy, wanna feel it nice and deep.” Thank fuck for IUDs. “Want you to fill me up while I cum all over your cock, can you do that for me? Can you cum with me?”

He was panting, lowering himself so he could properly thrust into her sopping cunt. He hadn’t gotten any in so long but this blew any and everyone out of the water. No one could ever understand how good this was. All the pining and imagining had come to an even better conclusion. 

“I’ll do it... but you... gotta promise me.” He growled, giving a particularly sharp thrust inside of her, making her wail. “Promise me I can do it again. Let me have this pussy more.” He didn’t want it to end if it was the only time he could get it. It was too good to let go of. Drooling all over his cock and her soft whimpers and dirty words had him more worked up than anything else. “Promise, baby, and I’ll let you have my cum.”

“Promise— I promise— fuck!” She felt her breath get caught in her throat at the particularly hard thrusts Harry was giving her. “Please Daddy, please give it to me.” Y/N whimpered, moving her hands so they cupped his cheeks, keeping eye contact with him as they continued to relentlessly thrust into each other. There was nothing more satisfying, nothing that managed to hit every part of her both physically and spiritually and made her feel so alive. When you’ve wanted something for so long it makes getting it that much better and she knew that she’d always be chasing this high that only he could give her. “I’m so close, fuck, daddy—“ She mumbled between kisses, squeezing around him and continuing at her pace to bring herself to the perfect high. “Cum with me daddy, please— ah!”

Harry would work on his stamina next round. But after the whole thing, he was close to losing his mind. She was giving him the most tempting offer and he wasn’t going to give it up. 

“Oh— fuck me.” He thrusted in again and again before he let himself go. Feeling her clench up around him and sob against his mouth, he let out a deep growl as he buried himself deep. Hot cum shooting inside of her cunt, rocking his hips in to get it all in there. There was no doubt that this was some of the most intense sex of his life but he was almost ready to go again, as soon as it ended. Holding her shivering form, her orgasm was tapering, he could feel her clenching still. “That’s it. Take all of it inside of you. Good girl.”

Y/N gripped Harry’s shoulders, loud screams of pleasure coming straight from her throat. There were no words to describe the high, she almost felt out of her own body as he showered her with praise. With her body shaking and face contorting with a silent scream, she found it in her to come back down letting out a pathetic whimper.

“Daddy—” She swallowed thickly, mouth finding his messily, pressing kisses to his lips and his face. The two of them were both lightly covered in sweat, breathing heavily and enjoying each other’s company. Y/N was far too blissed out to think about what just happened, but blissed out enough to know there would be many more rounds of this tonight. Y/N smiled as she nuzzled against his neck, still sponging kissing to his dampened skin. “Better?” She mumbled, smirking against his skin a bit.

“Mm.” He hummed, hands holding her hips still. Holy hell. This was the beginning of an amazing weekend- because he didn’t plan on letting her out at all, if he could help it’ he wanted her to stay, to let him indulge in her. “So fucking good.” He muttered lowly, rubbing his hand up her back and smoothing over her skin. Fucks sake. This was paradise. Nothing could pop him out of this. 

At least, that was until the doorbell rang. 

“Ah, fuck. The pizza.”

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

let us know what you think!

masterlist

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

for @bend-me-shape-me 's SPN advent calendar 2020. prompt: phone calls and late night texts.

Cas isn't a serial texter.

And Dean's a-okay with it.

But for all that's worth, they sure seem to have a ridiculous amount of emotionally significant conversations via, or starting off as, texts. And most often, in the middle of the night.

*

>>> hello, dean. [12:07 am]

Dean jolts up at the sound, realizing he fell asleep still wearing his headphones, with the laptop on his lap (and a new episode of The Good Place playing) and rolls his eyes at himself, hitting pause before he can see what’s happening (because he has good reflexes, and because screw spoilers that’s why) and rummaging for his phone.

At this hour of the night, it has to be something important.

It doesn’t really strike him that Mechanical Engineering majors whose only other selfprofessed skill is air guitar aren't exactly the frontline warriors for midnight emergencies.

Cas's name shows up when he squints at the too-bright screen, and he sits up a little straighter.

<<< hey [12:09 am]

<<< you OK? [12:09 am]

The response is immediate.

>>> do you have peanut butter? [12:09 am]

And as if it's an afterthought, Cas adds.

>>> yes, I'm fine. how are you? [12:10 am]

Dean blinks.

<<< peachy. peanut butter? [12:10 am]

At least this time the response takes a while. Dean wonders if Cas realized it was midnight, and not exactly a time to run inventory on your best friend's stash of condiments.

>>> I ran out. [12:12 am]

Dean sighs, unable to help smiling.

It's not like he's a stranger to Cas's weird cravings when he's high. (There'd been this one time with pie and a traumatized Gas 'N Sip cashier that still sits heavy on Dean's conscience.) But he doesn't think Cas is supposed to be high right now — Dean's usually either invited or informed by an unspoken rule — which just means this is regular "jelly, not jam"-Cas, at his core a weird, persistently sleep-deprived economics major and astronomy nerd, that Dean may or may not have had a crush on for an embarrassingly long time, and who's also prone to grammatically perfect texting, deadpan, Disney references, and bluntness when the occasion calls for it.

<<< pretty sure i have some [12:14 am]

>>> :) [12:14 am]

>>> I'm coming over [12:14 am]

*

And weird as it may sound, that had turned out to be the night Cas told him he was gay. Said it had been a revelating moment, unprecedented and wholly unexpected — and apparently revelations come in pairs because it had been followed by an intense need for peanut butter, and the rest, he explained emphatically, was history.

Dean had just snorted, congratulated him, and brought out the fancier plates for sandwiches — shipped in from home instead of a sale at Target — all the while, repeating to himself in a loop, that this changed nothing between them, nothing at all, and Cas having the capacity to be attracted back to him didn't mean that he ever would be (or for hell's sake, he'd scoffed at his traitorous chick-flick-nonsense brain, is.)

*

The second time had been early — way, way too early and it was by pure chance that Dean was awake to respond at six friggin' am on a Sunday. Like, that’s practically nighttime. 

Goddamn stupidly-fit running-freak.

Dean picks up his phone blearily, tongue in cheek as he clicks on it.

>>> I miss you [6:28 am]

>>> I'd* miss you [6:29 am]

Dean's stomach twists, and he's not sure if it's in a good way, or a bad way, or what-the-sincere-fuck-are-you-talking-about way.

<<< what [6:32 am]

<<< wtf are you talking about? [6:32 am]

Nothing.

<<< cas? [6:33 am]

<<< dude [6:34 am]

<<< cas???? [6:34 am]

Dean swears at his screen, more queasy than irritated. He can't stop fidgeting, so gives up on lying down altogether and hoists himself to his feet. Better to get his friggin' toothbrush since he's already up, and now definitely awake. Cas was so paying for this later.

He comes back, mouth mint-fresh in theory but still tasting awful and of fear and dread, and practically sags when he sees his screen blare with two messages from Cas.

>>> sorry, I had to make a call. [6:42 am]

>>> I'm not taking the job. [6:42 am]

*

And that's how Dean finds out about Michael (Cas's oldest brother, entitled asshole) inviting Cas to join his and Lucifer's (second oldest, bag of dicks) firm the year he graduates — invite, of course, being a loosely used word here for expecting it blindly (out of some crap he calls 'loyalty') and being readily willing to manipulate him into it.

And it's how he finds out that Cas turned them down.

"It's not who I am anymore." Cas had repeated, third time probably, and surer than before, and Dean had nodded earnestly before realizing Cas couldn't see him through the phone, and humming his affirmation instead. "And if I go back there, I'm never getting out again."

Dean'd swallowed.

"I don't want to." Cas had said, voice trembling. "I am — my own person here. It shouldn't be like this but this is the first time I have autonomy, Dean. Here is free will, and here are you. I don't — I can't. I'm not going to let them take it away."

"Good." He'd sounded shaky to even himself. "Don't."

"Yes." Cas had promised. "I'm not going."

*

And eventually they'd moved past the heavy talk into why-didn't-I-hear-about-this-before territory, Dean being righteously annoyed at his best friend for keeping something so huge from him, and Cas making lame (but probably valid) excuses in the name of not knowing how to explain the situation until he knew himself what he was going to do, because Dean may've been the first person he'd confided in about the insane fuckery that been his childhood and adolescence, but that still didn't mean he'd understand this, broken and convoluted.

And then Cas had nicely segued himself out of Dean's target of irritation and added, "They asked Gabriel too, by the way."

"And?" Dean didn't ever have much care for Gabriel (third oldest brother, cares about Cas, still a jerk) but Cas shared an apartment with him, so he had to face him plenty.

"He's running off to Miami."

And Dean had thrown his head back and laughed until Cas had smoothly added, "And I was wondering if you would consider moving in with me." 

At which point, of course, he'd started coughing instead, because holy shit, it actually made sense (Sammy had left for Stanford two months back, and Dean lived alone in a space that had probably been two big even when there were two of them) and might actually happen, but Dean wasn't really sure how much longer he'd be able to hide his crush, sharing a friggin' kitchen with the guy.

*

The third time's after their first date.

(Because, well. It happened.

It happened with Dean leaning across the breakfast table to prove to Cas his bacon was superior (to cookie friggin' crunch, because goddamn is Cas a dork) and Cas taking a bite with their eyes fixed on each other's, and Dean turning red when Cas licked his lips and then, just like that, Cas swearing under his breath (definitely filed for later pondering, that bit), grabbing Dean, and kissing the living daylights out of him.

And Dean had kissed back with everything he had, hands cupping his face, and nearly melting in his arms - but then they'd separated for air and Cas had had an apologetic look on his face and when Dean had tried to lean in to kiss it away, he'd received half a smile and a shake of his head.

"Let's do it the way we're supposed to."

And Dean had known immediately what he'd meant. Let's not fuck this up by becoming best friends and roommates who sleep together. Let's...play safe.

"Okay. Uh," he'd rubbed the back of his neck. "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"Thursday." Cas had promised with twinkling eyes, though Dean had already known he was going to say that since he knew Cas’s week at least as well as he knew his own, and two days and an anxious half of a thursday later, they went on their first date. Burgers and beer, and Led Zepp, and hands held in the Impala. Four hours later, they were back, and in their respective rooms, and Dean couldn't stop thinking about Cas.)

When his phone vibrates, Dean reaches for the bedside table.

It's at least midnight, it feels like he's been in bed for ages, and the only reason he isn't asleep is because all his brain seems to be capable of at the moment is thinking endlessly about the date. Fortunately, he's not the only one — although he's better at hiding it (practise, he'd say) because his heart is in his mouth the moment he reads Cas's text.

>>> I think I'm falling in love with you [11:43 pm]

>>> already. [11:43 pm]

Dean is very grateful for autocorrect as he types back with too-excited thumbs and a racing heart.

<<< so much for doing it the regular way cas mosby [11:44 pm]

>>> in my defense, it's been years. [11:44 pm]

<<< that part i get [11:44 pm]

<<< me too [11:44 pm]

<<< but youre supposed to wait three days before calling dumbass [11:45 pm]

Jesus, he'd never expected to blush cause of texts, but here they are.

>>> I'm texting. [11:46 pm]

And he guesses he'd never expected to giggle (he's alone there, sue him) cause of them either, but Cas apparently exists to prove him wrong about himself.

<<< good for you [11:46 pm]

He sends, biting his lip, and then lies in the silent darkness for a couple of minute, devoid of text notifications entirely, thinking uneasily — before he gives up.

They're idiots, sure, but nobody is this dumb.

<<< so when the fuck are you coming over then [11:50 pm]

>>> on my way <3 [11:50 pm]

And thinking about the lightening speed of that reply and the fucking heart emoji is enough to sustain him the entire one minute it takes Cas to get there, gently opening Dean's door, and climbing into bed — fitting in Dean's space like it's been made for him, and kissing him in greeting after leaving his phone on the table next to Dean's.

*

As it goes, with the confessions and the midnight cravings (and the grocery lists that keep getting piled onto through the day, and random pickup lines Cas decides are perfect to send Dean daily once he's found a website for puns, courtesy of Claire, and of course, pictures of Grease, which clog Dean's cloud in dozens whenever the ridiculously cute cat does something even slightly out of routine, god bless her lazy soul) Cas might just be a texter.

But Dean's pretty sure he's more than okay with it, so it doesn't really matter.

[alfredolover119]

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story. 

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that. 

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee 

-18k, teen, major character death 

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN. 

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham. 

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN 

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

[waywardmoeyy]

4am Food Coma

Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 1,784

Warnings: insomnia, just some familial fluff. 

A/N: This is as much of a feel-good story as I can write late at night. Haha. I hope you all like it! 

My Master List

You sighed as you stared at the drab bunker ceiling. Your body was practically aching from exhaustion, but you mind was racing. Random, deep-rooted memories flashed through you, some causing your heart to pound with regret. This lifestyle had really been taking a toll on you lately, and you knew it was only going to get worse.

You pulled the scratchy, plaid blanket up to your chin and sighed. You could go back to your room, but Dean was snoring to heavily on the other side of the wall. You typically fell asleep before him, but tonight, you just couldn’t get your mind to shut off.

Grabbing your phone beside you, you unlocked the screen and checked the time. 3:34am.

“Well, shit,” you muttered to yourself with another sigh. There was no way you were going to get any sleep at this point. You had promised Sam that, in the morning, you would go with him to some outdoor clothing store a few towns over, and he was always up at the ass crack of dawn. So, that meant you probably only had an hour or so of time to get any sort of shut eye.

The tip-tap of heavy feet approached you from behind the couch. You turned toward the noise, sitting up a little to peer over the back of the couch. In the scarce light, you found your oldest brother approaching you.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing up, sweetheart?” Dean asked, shooting you a concerned look. You sighed and leaned back onto your makeshift pillow.  

“My mind has decided that now is a great time to replay every horrible thing that’s happened in every hunt I can remember. It’s making me nuts. You know me, I’m the one who is always saying that what’s in the past can’t be changed, just let it go. I’m not usually one to dwell, but here I am.” You watched Dean as he plopped down on the edge of the couch, lightly leaning against your feet.

“Sounds like a helluva nightmare, Y/N. Anything I can do to help?” That was a great question, and usually the one you were asking your brothers. You pursed your lips, then gently shook your head.

“I dunno. I think I just need some sort of distraction. I’ve tried watching TV, but my mind just drifts off into another world.” You rolled your eyes. “And I promised Sam I’d go to that store he loves. He wants to leave early. I’m going to be a zombie.”

Dean chuckled as he watched you, probably laughing at the dark rings that were undoubtedly plaguing your eyes. He patted your ankles and smiled.

“I have an idea. Grab a sweatshirt and meet me at the car.” You furrowed your brow as you watched him launch to his feet.

“Wha-wait. What? No. I’m not going out like this. Dean, it’s almost four in the morning! Where are we going?” You slid out from under your blanket. You were clad in baggy pajama pants covered in cat silhouettes, and a tank top that absolutely did not match. Not to mention the quarter sized hole under your right armpit.

“Relax, Bitz, no one’s going to care where were going. Just grab a sweatshirt and some shoes. You have five minutes.” You rolled your eyes at your big brother. He was always up to some sort of shenanigans. But, the two of you were a lot alike, so you usually trusted his crazy schemes.

“Fine, but I’m not going to say I’m excited until I know where we’re going.”

“Calm down, Bitz. You’ll like it.” Bitz, short for Itsy Bitsy, was the nickname Dean gave you when you were too young to talk. Since you were the youngest, and quite obviously the smallest, he thought it was funny. But over three decades later, he still called you by that nickname more than he ever used your real one.

One more unsure sigh left your lungs before you turned towards your room, in search of a jacket.

“I remember there was a place just like this in Omaha. We always stopped when we drove through. I totally forgot this place was here.” You peered down at the menu of the dodgy diner. Dean sat across from you, studying the same menu.

The two of you sat in the corner of the small eatery, only joined by an older man at the bar, obviously a trucker, and a homeless man drifting off on the other side of the building, still half-clutching a cup of coffee.

Dean smiled and nodded, peering up from his menu. “Yeah, it hasn’t changed a bit. It’s like they are all exactly the same. Still better than Biggerson’s, though.” You laughed.

“Yeah, definitely. Their milkshakes are the best! I’m hoping they still are.”

Dean grinned. “Well, let’s find out. I’m not going to eat a big meal then go back to sleep. But, I’ll never deny an Oreo milkshake.” Dean slammed his menu shut and nodded. “What’s your poison? No, wait, lemme guess. Mint chocolate chip?”

Your eyes lit up. You hadn’t had a mint chocolate chip milkshake in years. Most places in the middle of nowhere didn’t have that flavor. Vanilla, chocolate, or strawberry, you cold almost hear a waiter say in their ‘I don’t want to freaking be here’ tone. But this small chain in the center of the country had them, and they were heavenly.

“It’s like you know me or something!” you teased him, before closing your own menu.

Dean chuckled as he eyed the server as they approached your table. “It’s like we’re related.” He winked, before turning to the exhausted young man. He couldn’t have been older that twenty.

“What can I get you?” he droned, his eyes half open. You glanced over at your brother, then back to the young man.

“A mint chocolate chip milkshake please,” you beamed. You smiled, realizing that you were already starting to feel better. You watched as Dean ordered, feeling like you didn’t have a care in the world for the first time in a while.

You all had been hunting for months without any sort of real break. No wonder your mind was on the verge of exploding. You definitely needed to have more breaks and distractions to counterbalance the violent, crazy crap you dealt with day in and day out. But, your brothers were work horses, so that always proved a little difficult.

“Hey, do you think drinking a giant, sugary milkshake is going to be the solution to get me to sleep?” you realized, leaning back in your heavily cracked booth.

Dean shrugged. “Sugar actually helps in a weird way. You eat or drink a bunch of it, fill yourself with sugar, then crash and sleep. Or, the shear amount of food will put you in some type of food-induced coma.” You nodded slowly. It did make sense, weirdly enough.

“Do you think that’s the healthiest thing to do?”

“No, Bitz. But it doesn’t hurt every once in a while. It’s healthier than pulling an all-nighter, then running all around town the next day.” That was true. Plus, there was no way you were going to say no to sugar, whether it was just before sunrise, or sunset. You hadn’t hopped onto Sam’s kale salad bandwagon quite yet.

Within minutes, the server returned with your glorious milkshakes, and a full refill container. The moment your treat was placed down in front of you, you smiled up at your brother in thanks.

The next twenty minutes were quiet, other than the ravenous slurps that came from your straws. Dean finished a few minutes before you, instantly leaning back in his seat.

“Holy shit, that hit the spot.” He smiled as he closed his eyes, instantly in a food coma. You giggled.

“How you didn’t get a single brain freeze baffles me,” you teased, scooting your cup a little closer. A thin line of red light beamed along the horizon, reminding you that you had basically pulled an all-nighter. But, you didn’t care nearly as much as you did before. A sense of peace had enveloped you, or maybe it was the beginning of your own food coma. Either way, you felt a heck of a lot better.

“Thanks, Dean,” you whispered, offering a frozen smile. Dean returned the gesture and nodded.

“Hey, it worked when we were kids. I was sure it was going to work now.” You furrowed your brow.

“What?”

“Yeah, when we came to one of these as kids, Dad would let us order milkshakes. I know you remember. But, what you probably don’t remember is that once you got back in the car, you were out like a light. I don’t even know if the sugar ever got a chance to get to you. I think it was just the comfort food or somethin’.” Dean laughed.

Now that you thought of it, you didn’t really remember the ride afterwards. You just remember waking up just after sunrise, either in the car or arriving home. And, well, that would explain why.

You closed your eyes for a minute, feeling the intense fullness in your stomach. Maybe you were skipping the sugar high yet again, and satiety was leading you straight to real exhaustion.

“Wow, you’re a lightweight,” Dean poked as he lifted from his seat, tossing some money onto the table. You huffed out a chuckle, a little too tired to come up with a witty comeback. “C’mon kid, let’s get you home. You’re going to need some sleep if Sam is going to drag you all over hell tomorrow—uh, today.”

You nodded as you slowly slid out from behind the table. Your brother was already five steps ahead of you, stomping his way towards the door. You slowly followed behind, smiling as you watched him toss a five-dollar bill onto the sleeping homeless man’s table. Then, he opened the door, and waited for you to exit with him.

The moment you settled into your seat, you leaned your head back, resting your head on the top of the back rest. Your eyes were heavy, and your body was practically deadweight. Dean peered over at you as the engine roared to life. He patted your shoulder before putting the car in gear and heading for home.

A long, shuddered sigh left you as you settled into your seat. It was going to be a good twenty minutes or so before you were home. But, your eyes weren’t going to stay open for that long. So, you closed them as you yawned. Within moments, sleep slowly enveloped you, and you weren’t going to fight.

If you would like to be tagged in my works, please send me an ask! <3

*Due to many inactive/untaggable blogs, there have been changes to my tag lists.

Forever Tag List:

@sabsi2222 @beyond-the-nights-world @x-cassiopeia @meganwinchester1999 @cas-is-my-hero-blog1 @jenabean75  @emmii4 @akfonkin @fandom-princess-forevermore @deanwinchestersbitch-blog1 @chameleon-junkie @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @eideticindy

 SPN Only Tags:

@beanie-beebo​

[vennilavee]

black & gold

pairing: tea shop owner levi x tattoo artist reader summary: levi thinks it’s interesting for a head tattoo artist to not have any tattoos. warnings: cursing, suggestive content (nudity) a/n: for this drabble prompt req by @bluebellhairpin 

The Black Canvas isn’t a new tattoo parlor by any means. In fact, Levi had walked by there daily on his way to his own tea shop, the Golden Thread. You’re no stranger to him either- sometimes you stop by his tea and bakery shop after a long day. Sometimes, you give him one of those sugary sweet smiles filled with something a little more dark, a little more curious.

But he didn’t understand how you own a tattoo parlor when you have no tattoos to speak of. The first time he saw you, he’d been somewhat surprised and had vocalized his surprise to you-

“You’d think for a big shot tattoo artist, you’d have more tattoos,” Levi scoffs, not hiding the way he lets his eyes scrutinize your appearance, “You don’t have any.” You’re fond of wearing long sleeves and baggy clothes that hide any curve or hint of your figure. It seems like your go to color is black with accents of bright colors here and there. Your ears are lined with piercings, though- a rod through your ear, two hoops and dangling earrings.

“Maybe someday you can put that hypothesis to the test. If you’re so lucky.” You say with mischief in your eyes, “Open your third eye, Ackerman.”

And then you had bounced away out of his shop with a mini peach tart and a cup of tea in your hand. He doesn’t understand you. Levi is a simple guy, if he wants something he’ll try to get it. But you seem to like seeing him flail and suffer- you always give him that look, the look that makes him think you can see right through him. Like he’s transparent.

He wonders if you can even tell the effect you have on him. He wonders if you’re as affected by him as he is of you.

Levi is often left with the sudden desire to brush the leftover pastry crumbs from the corner of your mouth. You’re a little messy, but he wants you and that epiphany makes him pinch the bridge of his nose.

Eventually, the more Levi gets to know you from your impromptu visits to the tea shop and from the funny way his feet seem to carry him to your tattoo parlor, the surprise of you not having any tattoos despite your profession begins to wear off.

Even your dog, your baby Koji (a Shiba Inu), had taken an instant liking to Levi. Koji still nearly tackles Levi over when he comes to visit your parlor. Koji stays in the lounge in the back (unless you have clients that are allergic to dogs, in that case you leave him at home).

You joke that he likes Levi more than he likes you. Levi rolls his eyes and tells you that you’re probably right. To which he earns a swat to his shoulder.

Eventually, there comes a point when something shifts in your easy friendship. That point can be called back to when you had yanked him closer to you over the counter in your tattoo parlor and dropped a kiss to his lips-

Weeks of subtle glances, easy eyes and soft words boiled over to one simple kiss in your tattoo parlor as you were locking up to go home. Levi had dropped by with pastries- he was trying new iterations of beef buns and baklava. And he wanted your trusty opinion.

He knows you have a sweet tooth, and he knows you’ll try anything once. 

You only look at him with wide, dark eyes, something honeyed blooming in your irises. You take the treats (neatly wrapped in a mint green box with twine tied at the top) and place them to the side.

And you pull him close to you by the collar of his shirt to shove your lips to his impatiently. You’ve been dreaming about this for days and nights, wondering if his lips tasted as good as they looked.

Levi gets over his surprise and slips his tongue into yours, pulling a sharp moan from you. It’s an uncomfortable position to be in- his torso pressed into the edge of the counter.

“Holy shit,” You exhale, “You can’t just come up here with treats and looking like that and expect me to keep it together. I’m a simple woman-”

“Shut up,” Levi breathes and walks around the counter, cradling your neck and pulling you in for another breathless kiss.

And now you’re in his apartment, in his bed, under him and pliant with every graze of his steady hands on your sides. Levi has never really asked you why you choose to wear baggy clothes, figuring that it’s your business and your business only. But now, with his hands steadily creeping under your shirt, he needs you to say you’re okay with this-

And it seems that you can read his mind easily because you sit up, your chest brushing against his, and pull your hoodie up and off.

His lips part in surprise, steely eyes wide at the sight of swirls and patches of ink painted over your skin, starting at your ribcage, spilling into your sternum  and your waist. Inevitably dipping down to your thighs. Your upper arms contain blooms of flowers and roses and thorns and Levi settles in between your legs to press the pads of his fingers to your tattoos in awe.

Reverence blossoms in his eyes and you don’t think he even realizes it. His touch is gentle, shy almost and you hold back a laugh. “You can take these off,” You murmur, tugging at your pants.

You’re half naked in front of him while he’s fully clothed but you feel no different. Because you feel safe and comfortable with him- his eyes shining with curiosity. He touches your thighs with freshly manicured hands, tracing over the spots and splatters of color here and there.

“Have you ever touched someone with tattoos before, Levi?”

“No.”

“You can touch mine. Whenever you want.”

tags: @simpingmaize @kentobean @captainchrisstan @alrightberries @puredivinity @regalillegal @castellandiangelo​ @bakuhoesworld​

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[kopikokun]

The City Wakes with Us༄ k.dy

↳ You spend a lazy morning with Doyoung bickering about morning breath, imported coffee and... dropping L-bombs?

pairing: kim doyoung x reader

contain(s): fluff, soft make-out session, expletives

word count: 1131 words

☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙ 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁: she likes winter, i prefer spring (slchld) ✧ head first (christian french) ✧ takemyheartaway (daren yuen, snøw, beats by con)

Request 38: Lazy morning with Doyoung where you say ‘I love you’ for the first time, leading to a soft make out sesh.

← BACK TO NAVI.

— 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝.

There’s a certain charm in lazing about in the early hours of the morning.

    Maybe it’s the rays of golden sun pouring through the cracks in the blinds, the warmth pleasant and welcome. Maybe it’s the snug silence attained when the rest of the world is still asleep, or maybe, it’s the sound of peaceful breathing and the heat of Doyoung’s fingertips as they trace your spine.

    There’s the soft rustling of satin bedsheets.

    “Good morning,” Doyoung whispers, his breath smelling of the minty toothpaste you remember using last night. “How’d you sleep?”

    You smile wistfully, sleep still clinging to your eyelids. “Very well, thanks to you.”

    “Well, I’m glad I could be of assistance,” murmurs Doyoung, his line of sight falling to your lips. He presses the lightest of kisses to them, sugary and delicate, befitting for the aesthetic of the morning.

    When he tries to deepen it by tilting his head, you’re quick to pull away, laughing. “Wait, I just woke up.”

    “So?”

    He leans in again. Your cheeks flame by how unhindered he is by your morning breath. “At least let me brush my teeth first.”

    Doyoung pouts at you in an attempt to convince you to stay, but upon your adamant expression he begrudgingly gives in, “Fine. But make sure you make it quick.”

    Doyoung’s bathroom is painfully typical, yet each time you enter, a sense of fondness washes over you.

    A ceramic sink faces the door, and your reflection stares back at you from the wide—albeit a little foggy—mirror directly above it. You scrutinise your appearance. Remnants of sleep muddle your vision, and you turn the tap on, rinsing the night’s grime off of your face.

    A toothbrush holder stands beside the tap, and a giddy smile pulls at your lips seeing two toothbrushes there now, instead of the usually lonesome one. In your peripheral, an extra towel drapes over the rail.

    “You know, I could really get used to this,” Doyoung says absentmindedly when you pad into his room, breath fresh and reinvigorated. His hair is tousled in the way only a good night’s rest can. The gentle beams of the sun from the window adjacent to his bed caress his skin, his half-lidded eyes golden like filigree.

    The city skyline borders the orange hues of the sky and the monotone grey of the buildings below. The streets are stirring; the early-risers shuffle down the asphalt concrete in their crisply ironed attire, the slight morning breeze in their faces. The shops bustle to life, their owners flipping their closed signs open and stretching their arms above their heads. There’s a new day in their palms; free to morph to their liking. The city had slept with you, and now it wakes with you.

    “Getting up beside you in the morning,” elaborates Doyoung. “You should spend the night more often. You look really pretty while you sleep.”

    He shifts to make room on the mattress for you, and you tuck yourself in the crook of his arm. “You were watching me sleep?”

    “Sorry, that sounded creepy.”

    “A little.”

    He leans back and you slump into his embrace. “But you do look pretty while you sleep. Especially while you’re wearing my shirt. I have to say, I’m sort of glad you got coffee on your pajamas.”

    “You got coffee on them, Doyoung.” You jab a finger into his chest. “I bet you did it on purpose.”

    “And let a perfectly good cup of imported coffee go to waste? Not over my dead body.”

    “You don’t even drink coffee! Why do you have a whole jar of it? Not to mention, a whole imported jar of it.”

    “I thought you’d like it.” He feigns a look of profound sorrow.

    “I - I did!” You in fact, did not. It was the most harrowing experience you’ve had with coffee to date. Truthfully, even you were somewhat relieved when Doyoung had knocked the cup out of your hands.

    “Yeah, right. You had one sip.”

    “I had more than one sip, babe.” You roll your eyes at his melodramatic intonation.

    “Okay, so you had two sips.”

    “In my defence, it was really bitter,” you say. “But I still really liked it!”

    “In that case, I can make you a cup right now,” Doyoung offers, cornering you.

    You laugh sheepishly. “I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

    He sulks, crossing his arms and facing away from you. “I knew it.”

    “Aw, Doyoungie, don’t be upset,” you coo. “It’s the thought that counts, right?” He doesn’t move a muscle, his will resolute.

    “I’m sorry,” you whine, dragging out the last syllable for added emphasis.

    You sandwich his face between your palms. He scrunches his nose and you bite your lip to suppress a smile. Regardless, you can’t help but litter feather-light kisses on every slight dip and curve of his face.    

    He giggles between each one, heat emanating from his pink tinged cheek. “Okay, okay, I get it. You can stop now!”

    A low rumble of reluctance leaves your throat. “Thought you wanted to kiss me.”

    “Yeah, not like this, though.”

    “Alright then, how?”

    He grins, jauntily. “Like this.”

    His lips meet yours half-way. They are as soft as the sheets; as warm as the streams of sunlight; and make you feel as fuzzy as the hanging towel in the bathroom. They are firm against yours, yet teem with a fragility which rivals china. They are Doyoung, so undeniably him that your heart swells with exaltation.

    His hand slithers beneath your shirt, residing on your waist. His hands are a contrasting cold to your skin. You shiver. His grip is comforting though it is almost bruising.

    You don’t pull away this time when the kiss becomes fiercer. Conversely, you return it with double the enthusiasm. His tongue tastes of mint and it overwhelms your senses; filling your lungs.

    He pulls away, breath leaving him in shallow pants.

    “I love you,” he murmurs, almost to himself.  

    He seems to stiffen, when a deafening silence submerges the room. A brief tide of contrition engulfs him whole. He waits with baited breath for a response.

    A pause the length of a heartbeat, and then, “I love you too.”

    Doyoung’s lip stretches into a smile. His eyes crease. You’ve never seen him so mirthful.

    “Wow…” he says, breathless, almost in disbelief. “I really love you.”

    “I love you too, Doyoung,” you giggle, humouring him.

    His smile widens.

    “I love you.”

    “I love you too.”

    He’s started giggling.

    “I. Love. You.” Each word is punctuated with a kiss.

    You squirm, smile never fading. “I love you too.”

    Doyoung tightens his hold of you, burrowing his face in your neck. “Holy shit, just move in with me at this point. I don’t think I can ever wake up without you here again.”

[13uswntimagines]

Better Luck Next Time (USWNT x Baby!Reader)

Request: Reader is really bad at expressing her feelings and talking about things she loves, so the team helps her as best as they can. And one evening she calls them all into a room and tells them how much they all mean to her and how happy she is to have them

Author’s note: Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog​ because without her this imagine would not have been nearly as cute or cohesive. It’s set up kind of like a three times she didn’t and the one she did format. I also couldn’t help the little hint of Mal x reader that i stuck in here. Let me know what you think! i freaking live for feedback. Hit me up with questions, requests or if you just wanna say hi. My inbox is always open!

3 days on the team

Fuck the beep test. 

You fell to your knees panting heavily, sweat pouring off your forehead as you stared in disbelief at Kelley. How the fuck was she still going? The rest of your team had already been eliminated, everyone except for the flying squirrel. 

You had barely made it to the line on time, and there she was, running off to the next one in time to hear the next one like you hadn’t just done 70 reps. You had to up your game if you wanted to keep your spot. Your plan was simple- beat the best players and show them why you belonged. 

A bottle of water appeared in your peripheral vision. You flinched waiting for the icy spray to hit your face, but it never did. 

“You did good kid. Don’t beat yourself up about getting out earlier than Kelley. I don’t think anyone could actually beat her.” She said, pushing the water bottle into your hands and making you take a sip. 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words would come out. You weren’t sure if that was because The Alex Morgan was talking to you, or if it was because your lungs were no longer in your chest. 

“I swear, the rest of us could tag-team this thing and she would still probably outlast us,” Alex said, shaking her head as she walked away, already used to your non-responses (though she was sure she saw your lips twitch up) “I’ve stopped trying, it’s so not worth the knee pain tomorrow.”

You opened and closed your mouth several times as if you were going to call some sarcastic response after her, but the words just wouldn’t come out. You just sighed, resting your head on your knees, your chin hitting your chest-- better luck next time.

*****

6 months on the team

The bus was a tricky situation. On most days the team didn’t care where you sat, but you knew that would change drastically during important tournaments, like Olympic qualifiers big. You had already been warned that where you sat- where everyone sat really- mattered. 

Screwing it up could bring the team bad luck, and you really didn’t want to be the reason why your team wasn’t going to the Olympics for the first time. 

For that reason you tried to be the last person on the bus, so you could tell where to sit based on what seats were open, but Emily had forgotten something and so she and Lindsey had run off to grab them, and now you were staring down the aisle of a partially filled bus wondering whether you were about to cast an omen of doom if you set your bag down. 

“Third row on the left is open, or 8th on the right,” you hear a voice pipe up from behind you. One of Christen’s warm hands settled on your shoulders, the other held her duffel bag partially over her shoulder. 

You felt yourself relax at the directions, incredibly grateful for the woman who had become one of your many team moms. You hadn’t ever spoken a full sentence to the woman, but she embraced your shy nature without blinking. 

“You could also crash with Mal, she doesn’t have a bus buddy,” Tobin’s bead popped up on your other side, wiggling her eyebrows. It was funny to most of the girls that their two team babies had things for each other. 

A light blush spread across your cheeks as you nodded. “Thanks” You mumbled, throwing your bag into an empty row, unwilling to sit with your crush. Tobin snorted as she settled back down, propping her feet up on the seat in front of her, her head on Alex’s shoulder as she slumped halfway down in her seat. 

“Better luck next time kid,” Christen winked at Mal and tossed her a small package of Oreos when she pouted. 

*****

9 months on the team

Going against Japan was never fun. They were a technically sound team with none of the friendly players like Leah or Jessie. That and they still held a massive grudge from the 2015 World Cup. 

As the second half had progressed, the Japanese team had become increasingly desperate. In their attempts to get the ball out of their defending half and into the US box, they had left giant gaps in their defense that Linsey and Sam were exploiting. As forwards, you and Alex were getting sent through balls and crosses. 

You collected a particularly nice ball threaded by Lindsey and broke towards goal, beating the two defenders that were marking you and looking for Alex. You were so focused on tracking her position that you didn’t see the center back coming in for a tackle until it was too late and you were staring up at the clouds, tweety birds fluttering around your head. 

You could feel the headache forming, like a growing stress ball where the base of your head met your neck. That was going to hurt once the adrenaline rush was over. 

“Hey Beaker, you alright?” Emily’s head appeared in your immediate vision, her worried form slightly fuzzy around the edges. 

“Meep meep” You huffed, sending the woman a little smile. It was weird to see Sonnett so serious. She put down a hand to pull you up and began brushing the grass off your jersey.

“How the fuck is that not a yellow or a PK, her studs were up and she wasn’t even going after the ball,” Lindsey yelled towards the ref, jogging past you to get right in the woman’s face. 

“Go help your girlfriend, mm fine” You mumbled, embarrassed by the attention you were getting. Emily’s presence was comforting, but couldn’t block the feeling of thousands of eyes throughout the stadium, watching you to see if you were going to be pulled from the field. You wondered if many of them were almost hoping for it. 

Emily sent you a worried look before patting your shoulder. “That was almost a goal too! And hey, they wouldn’t have fouled you if you weren’t killing it out here!”  She nudged your shoulder lightly with hers and released you to the medics, walking over to Lindsey and pulling her away from the ref before she got a red. 

You watched them for a bit before someone shined a flashlight in your eyes. Maybe next time you would find the words to thank them, someday when you weren’t feeling so dizzy. You’d have better luck next time. 

*******

1 year on the team

Oreos were the quintessential after practice snack. It appeased the vegans and catered to the sweet tooth of the younger side of the team, and really, anyone who didn’t like Oreos was surely messed up. 

Normally the team took turns bringing the packets of double-stuff, hiding them in duffel bags so coaches wouldn’t see and remind them about the diets they were all supposed to be on during season (and Dawn was like a bloodhound when it came to contraband). 

But to celebrate something the team would forego the normal packs set out by the coaching staff in favor of double, triple, or mega stuffed ones and some funky flavors. And right now was a celebration if you ever saw one. The team was jubilant after their extremely entertaining scrimmage. Your team, Cool Beans (named by Tobin), had beaten team Hot Stuff (Alex’s team) 6 to 5, you scoring 3 of said goals. 

You smiled lightly from your place on the locker room bench, munching happily on your mint Oreo and listening to several of the conversations happening around you. You felt so comfortable tucked between Mal and Christen, so safe and welcome. 

“You know, I really love you guys,” you said. There was a lull in the conversation, and several girls turned toward you in shock. 

“Holy shit, Meep Meep just talked!” Emily exclaimed, all eyes turning to you and your very red cheeks. Perhaps you hadn’t meant to say that out loud...

“We all knew she could talk,” Mal protested, throwing a balled-up cookie packet at her. Emily only smirked as the piece of plastic drifted through the air, falling about a foot short of its intended target. 

“Yeah but she said more than 3 words,” Lindsey rolled her eyes at the 2nd youngest forward, wiggling her eyebrows at Mal who had wrapped her spare arm around your waist. 

“I just-... you guys make me feel safe and I’ve never had my friends become like family before, and I love you guys,” You said, smiling at the ground. 

“We love you too Kiddo,” Christen said, from behind your left ear. 

“Group hug!!!!!” Kelley yelled before anyone could stop her, the women sharing a conspirator look before rushing you. 

You tried to protest, but in the end, there was no stopping them. A bundle of arms wrapped around you, dragging you to the floor in a dog pile. 

“Isn’t this nice!” Emily said from somewhere above you.

“Would be nicer if your elbow wasn’t embedded in my spleen…” You grumbled, hushing when Mal leaned up to kiss your cheek. Yes, these women were crazy, but right now you felt like the luckiest woman in the world.