#these games are so special. i forgot how much they meant to me

[thatblucat]

when true hearts lie withered and fond ones are flown, who would inhabit this bleak world alone?

[pixlokita]

Painful wing fanart incoming but you already knew about it and colored it so like -w- hiding it for the gore and blood tho >>

I feel like it was less gory in black and white but honestly 👀✨ aight don’t mind me I’m going to the tag now

BEHOLD!!! AN ART TRADE!!! @pixlokita it is time!

Caution, do not click read more if you do not intend to read. This is 12,192 words. And no, I'm not kidding. This is so much longer than most of the stuff I write. That being said, enjoy!!!

Evan said Michael was sick, which worried Jeremy. Being sick should not mean Michael would try so hard to avoid Jeremy, especially since he knew it would make Jeremy worry about him more.

But the main part Jeremy was worried about was the way Evan’s new wings kept fluffing up. Was Michael mad at him?

Don’t worry about it, Jeremy, he told himself. If Michael’s mad, he’ll tell you eventually.

It just stung. Evan and Gregory were wandering around the house, trying to see if their wings would allow them to do various things. Evan’s were too small to do much, and Gregory still hadn’t gotten used to them yet, but at least they had something to do while Mr. Emily tried to figure out what could possibly cause this.

“Ugh!” Gregory exclaimed, plopping down on the sofa next to Jeremy. He took the soda from Jeremy’s hand and took a giant sip. “These things suck.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy asked, unsuccessfully trying to retrieve his Coke.

“I mean,” Gregory scowled, taking another sip, “that wings are stupid. They don’t even bend the way I want them to.”

“Well…” Jeremy said thoughtfully. “They are just extra limbs, right? With bones and joints and stuff?”

“I guess so.” Gregory finally gave Jeremy his soda back. “But they don’t move how I want-“

“You couldn’t do much when you were a baby right? Learning to crawl?” Jeremy chugged the rest of his Coke before putting the empty can down. “It’s an accomplishment when babies get their heads off the floor on their own, you know. And rolling and stuff.”

“Oh.” Gregory clearly hadn’t thought about it that way. “But Evan’s got excellent control already.”

“He’s had them longer.” Jeremy shrugged. “Maybe he’s just a quick learner. Or maybe, there’s less wing to work with. Could be a bunch of things.”

“But…” Gregory sighed. He inched closer to Jeremy on the couch, his wings refusing to bend in a natural way.

Jeremy awkwardly looped a comforting arm around Gregory. “You’ll get there eventually.”

“They just hurt. All the time.”

“I can’t help with that,” Jeremy chuckled.

“Sure you can! Mike did this thing once, where he…” Gregory chewed his lip. “Well, I’m not exactly sure what he did.”

“You want me to pet you?” Jeremy said in disbelief. “Nuh uh. Go ask Evan. That’s not… No.”

“Why’d you make it weird?” Gregory shook his head. “It was like…”

“Like a shoulder massage,” Evan interjected helpfully. His wings flexed, expanding fully as he explained. They barely went past his shoulders, but the point got across.

Jeremy admired the confidence with which he showed them. He’d personally be too worried about people calling him a freak. Which, thinking about it, was not likely to happen in this house. Everyone was too nice here.

“Mikey went like this,” Evan said, pulling Jeremy’s arm back to get to Gregory’s wings.

Gently, Evan messaged the inner edge of Gregory’s wings, right where they extended from his back. Gregory’s wings convulsed, the claw on one nearly hitting Jeremy in the face. “I think they get itchy,” Evan mused. “We might have to just do this more often.”

“No kidding,” Gregory said with a sigh, his eyes closing and his shoulders relaxing. “But Mike’s still better at it.”

“Wonder where he got his practice,” Jeremy replied. He didn’t mean to sound bitter, but it still came across that way.

Evan winched, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he kept focused on his task. Gregory sighed absently. “Wings are a lot of work.”

“Seems that way,” Jeremy replied.

Gregory folded and unfolded his hands while Evan worked. “I just…”

Jeremy spared him a glance as he went to get another can of Coke. “Something on your mind?”

“His girlfriend,” Evan said absently.

“Cassie’s not my girlfriend!” Gregory said, straightening. His wings fluffed up as he said it.

“Oh.” Jeremy had no idea what to make of that. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know!” Gregory replied. He ran a hand through his hair to try to make it lay flat. “She was at Evan’s party, and she looked really bad. I think Mike took care of it, but he didn’t really say anything about it afterwards.”

“She’s probably at the hospital, Gregory,” Evan replied, trying to be soothing. “We can visit her once we figure out what to do about this first.”

“Stupid wings,” Gregory grumbled. “Making everything harder.”

Jeremy didn’t know how to reply to that. He cracked the can open and took a sip. “Have you asked Mike?”

“He’s sick,” Evan answered for Gregory. His wings fluffed up again.

“Maybe we should check on him then. He’s been resting all week right?” Jeremy asked, trying to be casual about it. Evan had been very guarded about his older brother this whole time.

Jeremy came over every day, and every day, Evan said the same thing. “Mike’s sick. He can’t see anyone right now.”

It had been happening since the day Gregory’s wings had burst through his skin. Jeremy was more than a little concerned. Sure, he hadn’t reacted well to the wings at first, but none of them had. He’d been more supportive when Evan’s had burst through later that same day.

But Michael’s expression became very guarded for the rest of the day, and the next day, he was “sick” and couldn’t see Jeremy. And Evan was very good at shooing Jeremy away when he tried too hard to see him.

“Shouldn’t he eat something?” Jeremy asked.

Evan frowned. “Mikey told me that there’s not much he can stomach right now.”

“Crackers always work,” Jeremy mumbled to himself. Shaking his head, he tried again. “What about water? Maybe he’ll start feeling better with some fluids.”

“I… guess…” Evan seemed less sure. Conflicted, he looked at Gregory and then glanced at the closed door to his cousin’s room.

“I can get it. You keep helping Gregory,” Jeremy said quickly. He didn’t want Evan to change his mind.

Evan relented, nodding slightly. “Okay. Make sure to get him a big glass. And don’t be loud. And-“

“I know how it works when someone’s sick, thank you.” Jeremy set his Coke down and rushed back to the kitchen to grab a glass.

Evan had not been exaggerating. When Jeremy crept into the room with the glass of water, Michael was curled into a tight ball on the bed.

“Mike?” Jeremy whispered into the quiet room.

Michael groaned in response. He rolled over to face Jeremy, exposing the hair plastered to his face with sweat.

“I um.” Jeremy swallowed. He felt a little foolish now. Michael was just literally sick. He wasn’t mad at Jeremy or anything like that. “I brought you some water.”

Michael opened his eyes, feebly reaching for the glass.

“Are you strong enough to hold it on your own?” Jeremy asked.

Michael had to consider that for a moment. Then he shook his head.

“Here-“ Jeremy sat next to Michael on the bed, helping pull him into an upright position so he could drink the water.

Michael leaned heavily against Jeremy, eagerly drinking the water. Jeremy had to brace himself against the wall to support the extra weight. Then abruptly, Michael pulled away.

“J… Jeremy,” Michael whispered weakly. He gripped at Jeremy’s jacket, burying his face in Jeremy’s shirt. “I…”

“It’s okay, Mike-“

Michael seized in Jeremy’s arms, sobbing heavily. His hold got tighter and tighter as his body shuddered with pain. Jeremy tried to set the glass on the bedside table, but he barely had it on the edge and water soaked into the carpet as he pulled Michael the rest of the way into his lap. “I got you,” Jeremy said into Michael’s hair.

“It hurts,” Michael cried, still shaking.

“You’ll get through this,” Jeremy mumbled.

A tearing noise broke through the sound of Michael’s sobs, even as they intensified. “JEREMY!!!” Michael wailed.

“I have you, Mike. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Dimly, Jeremy registered the large wings erupting from Michael’s back. Oh. Oh. This was happening now. Bloody feathers spread out, wrapping around Jeremy to return his comforting gesture.

Gradually, Michael’s crying ceased, and Jeremy was left holding an exhausted teenager with bloody wings. “I am sorry,” Michael whispered, pulling his hands back, the wings retracting slightly. “I did not mean to, uh…”

“It’s okay, Michael.” Jeremy tried to smile at him. He was determined not to squirm in discomfort from all the blood currently soaking into his jacket.

“I… should go shower,” Michael said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” Jeremy wriggled uncomfortably in his jacket.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I can wash that if you want.”

“It’s not the biggest deal,” Jeremy said.

“It is if you go home wearing a jacket covered in blood,” Michael replied. “It’s only fair that I clean it, since that’s my blood.”

That wasn’t how Jeremy saw it, but he figured he wasn’t getting out of this. “Okay.”

Michael shifted carefully, putting his feet on the carpet. Almost instantly after taking his weight off the bed, he completely lost his balance. His wings flew out, trying to redistribute the weight, but Jeremy didn’t realize that as he caught Michael by the waist. Both of them tumbled off the bed, Jeremy hitting the carpet with a soft ‘oomph.’

“I am sorry. This was not my intent,” Michael said from above Jeremy.

“They take some getting used to, huh?” Jeremy replied, trying to ignore the heat rising to his face.

It hadn’t been much on the bed with Michael clinging to him like a lifeline. But on the floor with Michael on top of him, pinning him to the ground, Jeremy was suddenly aware of how close Michael was to him.

Michael smiled ruefully. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to walk on my own right now. I don’t know how I’m going to wash all this blood off by myself.”

“Maybe your uncle could help?”

“He’s probably back at the library again,” Michael mused as he crawled off Jeremy.

Evan wouldn’t be able to handle it, Jeremy knew that much. And he couldn’t ask for Gregory’s help without alerting Evan to the amount of blood that coated them both.

“Do you want me to help?” Jeremy asked, feeling the heat more intensely in his face. Please say no. He didn’t think he’d be able to handle it.

“Really?” Michael chewed his lip, considering it. “I would not want to be a bother… But if you are offering…”

Jeremy’s heart quickened at the prospect. “R-right.”

“Help me up?” Michael asked.

Jeremy pulled Michael to his feet, unprepared for the wings to wrap around him again. “Um.”

“Sorry. I don’t have much control over them yet,” Michael replied sheepishly.

“Do they want me to carry you?” Jeremy gauged the idea of carrying Michael to the bathroom. It wasn’t the worst idea he’d ever come up with.

“It’d probably be less awkward than walking there like this,” Michael agreed.

“So I’m just going to…” Jeremy twisted around in the space the wings allowed him. Michael hissed out a pained breath, but soon he was behind Jeremy. “How well can you jump?”

Pretty well, apparently. Jeremy barely needed to adjust for the weight of Michael on his own back, hands linked beneath Michael’s knees. “Okay. Let’s get you taken care of.”

“I am not a child, Jer,” Michael said wearily. Still, he pressed the side of his face into Jeremy’s hair. “I am sorry to be such a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, Mike. You’re my friend. I’m absolutely willing to help you out when you’re in need.”

“Mmmmm,” Michael sounded almost mournful. But he didn’t argue.

“Okay,” Jeremy said. “So, I’m thinking they might need a decent soaking, right? Birds like to be fully submerged when they clean their wings right?”

Michael blinked at him from where he sat on the toilet lid. “What are you even saying?”

“The blood.”

“It is not dried yet. Not completely anyway.”

“So what? You were planning to just wing this whole thing, weren’t you?” Jeremy shrugged off his jacket.

Michael snorted. “I was planning to shower, Jeremy. But I guess I was planning to wing it, considering how I have wings now.” His wings stretched as he spoke, emphasizing his point. “I just don’t have the strength to stand there long enough to wash them off.”

“I-“ Jeremy sputtered. Clearing his throat, he tried to skip over the accidental pun he’d made. “Just going to let the water do the work?”

“That’s the goal.” Michael frowned. “There’s just a few problems.”

“Such as?”

“My shirt isn’t going to come off the same way it went on this morning.”

“Are you particularly attached to that shirt?” Jeremy asked.

“Not really. Could try to just-“ Michael pulled at the collar of his shirt.

“I’ll go grab a pair of scissors,” Jeremy said as Michael pulled experimentally at his shirt again.

He had to be careful walking by the couch, noticing Evan curled up for a nap. Gregory was nowhere in sight.

Returning with the scissors, Jeremy nearly dropped them upon seeing Michael. “What happened? I was gone for two minutes!”

Michael’s shirt was hanging off his body in shreds. When Jeremy looked closer, he could see sharp claws on Michael’s hands. “I…” Michael shrugged sheepishly. “I thought I could tear the fabric and take it off myself.”

Jeremy’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t let himself laugh. “Okay. I don’t think you did a very good job of it though.”

“It seems as though I failed…”

“Here, let me just…” Jeremy carefully reached around Michael’s head, one knee resting between his legs. It felt strange to be cutting through Michael’s shirt, but as the fabric gave way, Michael seemed to relax a little more.

Jeremy recalled Gregory and Evan both sitting on the couch as Michael measured the shape they needed cut from their shirts for the wings. Perhaps Michael needed a few of those done as well. Something to keep in mind for later.

“Hey, why is there blood all over-“ Gregory’s eyes widened as he peered into the bathroom.

Michael straightened quickly. Jeremy pulled back, hiding the scissors. “Hello.” Michael waved awkwardly, his wings stiff and very clearly exposed.

“You… you have them too?” Gregory’s voice seemed so small.

“Yes, it appears as though we will match.”

Gregory swallowed harshly. “I can help. I know how to get blood stains out of fabric.”

“I would really appreciate it. Thank you, Superstar.” Michael beamed at Gregory, who flushed a deep red.

“It’s no big deal…”

“Not to you,” Jeremy said softly. “But it helps more than you realize. Thank you.”

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. He scratched his neck as his wings fluffed up, finally saying, “I’ll be quick. It probably won’t be good if Evan finds out.”

“It would be best if he did not know how messy the process is,” Michael agreed.

Gregory nodded, smoothing his hair down before hurrying out of the room.

Michael wadded the scraps of his shirt into a ball and tossed it to the floor. “Now that that’s sorted…”

Jeremy determinedly kept his eyes from wandering as he helped Michael stand. His friend leaned heavily against him for support as he attempted to undo his pants.

Jeremy belatedly realized that the only way this whole thing would work was if the shower ran over both of them. I’m going to be drenched, he thought sorrowfully as Michael muttered to himself in frustration.

“You could probably just sit while I wash the blood off,” Jeremy said when Michael finally stood there in his boxers. “Since it would be less exhausting for you.”

Michael blinked. “I suppose you are correct. I should have thought this through more.”

“It’s no big deal, man. You’re probably dealing with blood loss or whatever.”

“Still…”

“Hey, it’s fine. You spend all this time taking care of everybody. Maybe it’s time someone took care of you, right?”

Michael chewed his lip. “I suppose.”

“Okay. We’ll get you cleaned up in no time, Mike.” Jeremy said, smiling supportively. Michael tentatively smiled back.

As it turned out, it was a lot harder to clean up Michael than Jeremy initially thought. He kept twitching away, hissing out noises of pain at Jeremy’s touch.

Michael clenched his fists in his lap. “Okay. Clearly this is not the proper solution.”

“I can’t do this when it’s clearly hurting you, Mike. I just…” Jeremy leaned forward to rest his head against the back of Michael’s.

“This is nothing. I have endured much worse before.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is.”

“Jeremy.” Michael said calmly, wringing water out of the washcloth. “I am sure it has become clear to you that things are not how they should be. The wings are only one part of it.”

“Yeah? What I’m hearing is that your father is abusive.” Jeremy wearily took the washcloth back, dabbing it gently against the space between Michael’s wings. At least like that it didn’t seem to hurt him.

“Well, not in the way you would think. Actually, I was thinking more of the comparison between growing limbs and losing organs. I think losing organs is still a more painful experience than this.”

“So you want me to just ignore your pain?” Jeremy asked, trying to decipher Michael’s meaning.

“I am saying I can handle it. I can be a man about this.”

No one is doubting that, Jeremy thought grimly to himself. “Maybe I can’t.” He tentatively rubbed at a clump of blood in the inner edge of Michael’s wing.

Immediately, it swung at him, throwing him against the sink. Pain flared throughout Jeremy’s entire body as he hit the floor. Faintly he registered that his face was bleeding.

“Jeremy?” Michael asked, twisting around. “Are you alright?”

“Nnnnngh,” Jeremy groaned. “I don’t think I broke anything.”

“I am so sorry. It appears that the wings are more sensitive than I thought.”

“No kidding.” Jeremy pressed his fingers to his cheek. He was lucky. The clawed joint of Michael’s wing had hit him just below the eye. Any higher, and he might’ve lost it completely. “Now what?”

“I suppose I should just sit under the water and hope for the best.”

“I think Gregory and Evan mentioned messages working out the soreness. Maybe I could at the very least-“

“I think we should avoid that for now,” Michael replied, his voice sounding stiff. “You have already been hurt once today.”

“Michael.” Jeremy tried to make his voice sound stern. “I knew the risks when I offered to help. So let me help.”

“Fine. Just do not do anything that will put you in danger again.”

“Don’t lie about how much it hurts next time,” Jeremy shot back. “Still gotta get all that blood out of your wings, you know.”

Michael clenched his jaw, but he only stared down into his hands. He couldn’t face Jeremy with the nasty cut on his face any longer.

Jeremy was lighter after that. He knew that even pressing a little too hard would make the wings spaz, and over the course of the next few hours, he succeeded with minimal interruptions.

Gregory popped in near the end to check on the progress. “Henry’s back. Do you want me to tell him about this?” He gestured at the entirety of the bathroom.

“I believe he should be informed. Please ensure that my brother does not come to investigate before we are done here.”

“And maybe grab him a dry set of clothes while you’re at it,” Jeremy said. As an afterthought, he looked at himself. “Maybe grab me something too, if you would.”

Gregory rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. How much does it hurt?”

“I suspect that I should be in more pain than I am,” Michael said, considering the question. “But Jeremy has done an excellent job of making sure the process is less than agonizing.”

“Uh, okay?” Gregory shot Jeremy a look.

“I can’t hardly touch him without the wings reacting,” Jeremy explained. “Nearly lost an eye the first time I did that.”

“So it’s bad.”

“It’s bad,” Jeremy agreed.

Gregory shot Michael a look loaded with concern, but he gave Jeremy a thumbs up. “I’ll ask Henry if he can get you guys some dry clothes. Maybe I’ll just imply that something else is going on in here if Evan asks.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that made Jeremy’s face burn.

“Gregory-“

But Gregory had already ducked out of the room, laughing quietly to himself. Jeremy sighed, preparing himself for the inevitable glares he’d get from Evan.

Michael sighed softly once Jeremy finally went to smooth out the wings. “That feels really nice.”

“Glad to hear it,” Jeremy said softly. “I think we got all the blood out.”

“Is it time to turn the water off then?” Michael asked, his eyes closing.

“I’d say so.” Thank goodness, Jeremy thought as he turned the dials back and pressed the tab down. “Now you need to dry off a bit.”

“Mmmmm….” Michael hummed to himself as Jeremy stepped into the tub with a towel and started rubbing Michael’s head with it.

Michael’s eyes fluttered open, and he smiled at Jeremy. “You really do like taking care of me, don’t you?”

Jeremy huffed out a sigh. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, would I?”

“I thought you just stuck around to steal our Coca Cola.”

“That too. But I do enjoy your company, Mike.”

The smile broke into a full grin as Michael tugged the towel out of Jeremy’s hands. “That is wonderful news, Jeremy.”

Did he really not know? Jeremy wondered.

Before he had a chance to answer, Henry peered into the bathroom, assessing the pool of water on the floor. He raised a tired eyebrow as he observed the two boys in the bathtub. “I wasn’t inclined to believe Gregory before, but seeing it for myself…”

Jeremy’s face ignited with heat. “I was just helping clean blood from his wings. Nothing else happened, I swear.”

“I was referring to the fact that Michael grew wings. What did you think I meant?” Henry’s eyebrows scrunched, and Michael gave Jeremy a funny look.

“I thought Gregory might’ve said something else,” Jeremy replied, shaking his head. “Forget it.”

“Are you alright, Jeremy? You look a bit feverish…” A frown tugged at the corner of Michael’s mouth.

“I’m going to go grab some more towels. And you two will be wanting a dry set of clothes, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy nodded quickly.

Henry hummed at them before walking back out of the room.

“I am grateful for both you and Gregory,” Michael said, using the towel to dry the rest of his body. He slowly rose to his feet, finally able to stand on his own.

Jeremy determinedly did not stare. Instead, he wrung water from his hair.

“I would offer you the towel, but I believe it is too wet to be any real help. Seeing as your clothes are also drenched, the best course of action is to wait for Henry to return.”

Jeremy smiled weakly. “Yeah, that’s true.”

Michael stepped out of the tub, hanging the towel back on the rack after he went. Jeremy could admit that the wings looked pretty good on Mike. He’d been weary of it when he’d first seen the wings on Gregory, and he knew that Gregory was defensive about it now. But maybe seeing him help Michael would help.

“Do you need a bandage for your face?” Michael asked, making eye contact with Jeremy through the mirror above the sink.

“Oh, I uh.” Jeremy blinked at him. “It doesn’t… It’s fine.”

“Are you sure?” Michael’s mouth twitched. “I understand that me being like this must be unpleasant for you, but that does not mean you do not need assistance with that cut.”

Being like this? Was Michael phrasing things like that on purpose? Was he talking about the fact that he was in his boxers or the fact that he had wings? Jeremy crossed his arms before remembering that his shirt was soaked. He uncrossed them and simply said, “There is no problem. I just don’t need a Band-Aid.”

Michael walked back over, and Jeremy tried to take a step back before remembering he was standing in a bathtub. Trapped, Jeremy stood stiffly as Michael ran a thumb over his scratch. Don’t flinch, he told himself, but it still stung. The cut was pretty deep.

“You likely do need a bandage, despite your claim otherwise,” Michael replied. “I can help, if you need assistance.”

Michael gently wiped blood from Jeremy’s face and went in search of medical supplies. It stung when he cleaned the wound, but Jeremy found himself too fascinated by Michael’s cautious care to really notice. The tiniest furrow in Michael’s eyebrows appeared when he put the bandage on Jeremy’s face, and his hands lingered on Jeremy’s jaw for just a moment too long.

He almost seemed sad when he stepped back from Jeremy. “All better. See?” Michael smiled so quickly Jeremy wondered if he’d imagined the pain in Michael’s eyes.

“Y… yeah. Um. Thanks.” Jeremy touched the bandage, surprised by how big it was. “I didn’t realize the scratch was that big.”

“I still feel terrible for doing that to you. Is there any way I can make it up to you?” Michael asked.

Unable to come up with anything to say other than a request for Michael to kiss him, Jeremy shook his head and turned his attention to Michael’s wings. “Do they still hurt?”

“Not as much as they did,” Michael flexed them experimentally. Jeremy smiled faintly, recalling that Gregory was having immense difficulty controlling his own wings. Perhaps the size made it easier.

Michael made a face. “It appears that moving them still hurts, however.”

“Evan mentioned something about messaging the muscles earlier. He was doing it for Gregory.”

Michael brightened. “I suppose I shall have to ask for Evan’s help with that endeavor then. Thank you for the reminder.”

I could do it for you, Jeremy thought desperately. He didn’t want to just have to leave after everything. This was the most time he’d spent with Michael before, and the guy was just so chill about everything. But being in the same space as him, watching him interact with his brother and Gregory made him want to stay so much longer. Michael Afton was the most compassionate person Jeremy had ever met, and he wanted to be able to help the man who tried so hard to help everyone else.

It didn’t help that Jeremy was also hopelessly in love with him.

As Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, Henry returned with the changes of clothes. Michael turned his attention away from Jeremy to thank Henry and apologize for the water all over the floor, and Jeremy was left to awkwardly collect the pile of bloody clothes on the floor to offer them to Henry.

Henry stared at the rags for a moment, his face paling significantly. “These were Michael’s clothes?”

“Yes.” Michael was separating the clothes to split between himself and Jeremy, and he was hardly focused on Henry. “I could not find a way to safely remove my shirt without causing more pain, so Jeremy helped me cut it off. I am afraid blood does not come out of denim very easily, so my jeans are also a lost cause.”

Brightening, Michael put a bundle of clothing into Jeremy’s arms. “You can change in Charlie’s old room.”

“Why can’t you both change in here?” Henry asked, sounding confused.

Pressure built in Jeremy’s throat as he tried to answer that question. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of himself. Not by any measure at all. He just knew it was dangerous, what he was. People didn’t exactly approve of people like him, after all. Especially not here.

Michael gave Henry a scathing look as tears built up behind Jeremy’s eyes. “Maybe we don’t want to change in the same room.”

Henry blinked in surprise, but he glanced between the two boys for a moment before making his exit. Michael patted Jeremy’s shoulder. “I can go to Charlie’s room instead, if you would prefer to change in here.”

Jeremy still couldn’t speak, so he just nodded. The gentle way Michael nodded back at him filled his body with a strange warmth. A few moments later, Michael was gone, and Jeremy could finally change out of the sopping wet layers he’d been in this whole time.

Half-way through changing, Jeremy noticed that most of the clothes were baggy and easy to layer over each other. There were almost too many options. A jolt ran through him when he considered that Michael had sorted through the clothes. Either Michael was very particular, or he knew.

Hurriedly, Jeremy finished changing and practically ran to the bedroom where Michael said he’d be changing. He basically flung the door open to a startled Mike, who had jeans on but no shirt. “Is something wrong?” Michael asked.

His wings and hair fluffed up, like he’d been expecting a threat, but his expression was one of concern. Jeremy knew he was shaking, knew he wouldn’t be able to speak for a moment, but he stood there and just stared. Why did Michael have to be adorable in everything he did? The way his mouth curled into a frown made half of his mouth seem to vanish, like he was biting on it constantly distracted Jeremy from what he wanted to say.

He let his eyes wander over Michael’s bare torso as he tried to find the words to speak. The worst of his secrets was surely out already, and if Michael figured out his feelings, it would be less painful than him knowing the other secret.

Fascination over the jagged scar across Michael’s chest sprouted in his heart. Jeremy had seen it before, of course. He’d seen it in the bathroom, but he’d been trying not to stare before.

“Jeremy?” Michael looked worried now. “Are you alright?”

Maybe Michael didn’t know. Maybe he just hadn’t grabbed a shirt at all, since they had to be cut specifically for the wings anyway. Jeremy was probably just overreacting. And even if he wasn’t, it seemed that Michael wasn’t going to bring it up. “Uhmm. I just… wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Michael relaxed. “I’m quite alright, Jeremy. I’m not as weak as I was before. The shower certainly helped.”

“You’re um. You’re very fluffy right now.”

“Am I?” Michael ran a hand through his hair, feeling where it stuck up all over the place. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Jeremy cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks for talking to Henry back there.”

“It was nothing.” Michael blinked at him, wings twitching. “Gregory did a good job cleaning up.” He gestured at the carpet and the bed.

The bed was made very neatly, corners tucked so much better than Jeremy could do on a good day. There were only faint hints that someone had been bleeding there, and they were only visible because Jeremy was looking for them. “Yeah. He certainly did.”

A fond smile crossed Michael’s face at that. “He’s so sweet.”

Jeremy didn’t really believe that, but he nodded anyway. He didn’t want Michael to stop smiling for anything. It was so much better than his frown in every possible way.

“We should… I um. I think we should probably head back to the living room,” Jeremy said awkwardly.

“Right, yes. I suppose it is almost time for you to head home too.” Michael blinked, like he was shaking himself out of a daydream. “Or maybe you could stay for supper?”

Jeremy smiled. “I would love that.”

Evan was awestruck when he saw his brother’s wings. “They’re so big!”

“Soft too,” Jeremy said, trying to encourage Evan’s excitement.

Gregory made a noise in the back of his throat before saying, “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jeremy stared at him, mouth opening and closing without words coming out.

“No softer than yours, I’m sure,” Michael said, trying to keep the peace. There wasn’t even a hint of a blush on his face at Gregory’s words. Were the jokes just going over his head? Maybe Jeremy was reading too much into it.

Shaking his head, Jeremy plopped down on the couch beside Gregory. “What happened to your face?” Gregory asked quietly.

“I wasn’t careful enough,” Jeremy answered, glancing at the two brothers as they talked about Michael’s new wings. “And Mike’s wings pack quite the punch.”

“Oh.” Gregory’s eyes widened with understanding. “That could’ve been bad.”

“You’re telling me, kid.” Jeremy shook his head, taking a sip from his can of Coke. “What were you and Evan up to today?”

“Videogames mostly,” Gregory replied. “Although everything here is so old.”

“Old?” Jeremy wrinkled his nose. “Nah, my parents are worse. You’re probably just picky. A bunch of this stuff is newer than anything my family could afford.”

“Your motorcycle is cool though.”

Jeremy smiled. “It is pretty cool.”

“Can you take me on it sometime?”

The smile faltered slightly. “Uh, I don’t know.”

“C���mon, please? All the stuff here is pretty boring, and I know Evan tries to be fun, but you can only play the same game for so long before it’s lame. And I don’t want to have to tell him it’s lame. It’s awful when he cries.”

Jeremy didn’t know what to make of that. “Maybe we could play a board game or something.”

“I wanna go on your bike sometime.” Gregory stuck out his chin stubbornly. “Or I’m going to tell Mike you have the biggest crush on him and-“

“Okay, okay! I get it. But you’ll have to wear a helmet,” Jeremy said, looking away and tugging at his shirt. “And long pants. Just in case.”

“Okay, Dad.” Gregory rolled his eyes.

“Well, you’re the one who said it’s awful when Evan cries,” Jeremy shot back. “And I’ve already seen how Mike cries, and I don’t want to see that again. No thanks.”

Gregory flinched at that. “I…”

“Not to frighten you, but it can be dangerous.” Jeremy sighed. “There’s only so much you can be safe. Not to quote my mom, but ‘I’d rather you be late than dead.’ It’s just that kind of thing.”

Seeing Gregory’s expression, he softened. “I’m a firm believer in the fact that both of us are going to get lectured by Michael when he finds out. So, when he tries, we’re going to tell him that I already told you all the risks and you still wanted to do it. Unless I’ve changed your mind.”

“No, haven’t changed my mind.” Gregory scooted closer to Jeremy. “I bet I’d survive a crash better than you.”

“No way,” Jeremy laughed. “With the way you’re built? No offense, but you’d be a splatter on the cement.”

“Rude.” Gregory scoffed. Not subtly at all, he tried to steal Jeremy’s Coke from his hand.

Amused, Jeremy let him. Gregory immediately started downing what was left in the can. At that moment, Michael glanced over and gasped. “Gregory! Is that Coke? Are you encouraging this, Jeremy?”

“He took the can out of my hand. I didn’t do anything,” Jeremy smiled cheekily. “Not my fault he’s so fast.”

“Mmmmm,” Gregory squinted skeptically at the can. “This is Coke?”

“Yeah?” Jeremy looked confused. “Why? Does it taste weird to you or something?”

“It’s better than I remember.”

Michael sighed, removing the can from Gregory’s hands. “That is because Coca-Cola has different flavoring in it than you remember.”

“Are you talking about the whole cocaine in Coke thing? Because I thought that was a myth.”

Michael shot Jeremy an exasperated look. “That is not what I am talking about. Anyway, Gregory does not need caffeine in his system at this time of day. He won’t get any sleep at this rate.”

“Whoops?” Jeremy held his hands up in surrender. “Look I-“

“It does not matter.” Michael shot Gregory a meaningful look. “So long as he doesn’t keep Evan up with his extra energy, it should be fine.”

Evan peered at them all from behind the sofa. “How did he even take it from you? I thought you kept a tight grip on those at all times.”

“Caught me by surprise?” Jeremy shifted his weight as Michael gave him a skeptical look. “He’s faster than he looks, I swear.”

Evan snorted, climbing over the back of the sofa, much to Michael’s despair as he said, “Well, that gives him a one-up in physical games I guess.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I totally crush at Fazblock!” Gregory crossed his arms. “I had more blocks than you did.”

“Gregory, you’re supposed to get rid of the blocks, not keep them on the screen.” Evan shook his head despairingly. “I would’ve explained the rules if you’d asked-“

“It was different than what I’m used to, okay?” Gregory rolled his eyes. “I could totally beat you at Fazzy Kart.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” Evan replied. “I still think you made it up.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too!”

“Okay, that is enough.” Michael shook his head, smiling faintly. “Gregory did not make it up. Fazzy Kart just has not come out yet.” He ruffled Evan’s hair before walking away with the empty Coke can. “And I have something for you two to do when I get back!”

“A task?” Gregory asked.

“A task.” Evan snorted. “Ah yes, my brother typically assigns me tasks. No, Gregory. He’s sending us to do chores or something. Usually he’s more mean about it though.”

“No one understands my jokes.” Gregory’s wing twitched irritably.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jeremy replied. “He still laughed, even if he didn’t get it. Be nonsensical! Nobody cares as long as you’re funny.”

“That’s a terrible line of logic. I refuse to believe that people willingly follow your example,” Michael said, returning with a sheet of paper. “Evan, Gregory, I am trusting you two to find everything on this list and bring it back here.”

“We don’t have money,” Gregory said, but he still took the list from Michael’s hands. “And aren’t we supposed to stay inside until we figure out what to do about our wings? And wait, is it safe to-“

“You worry too much, Gregory. We can just ask Uncle Henry for help.” Evan peered at the grocery list. “What are you making, Mikey? This looks like spaghetti sauce, but you don’t use half this stuff normally.”

“Wait and see,” Michael said cryptically. His own wings twitched as he spoke, even seeming a tiny bit ruffled.

“With the overabundance of clothes Henry seems to have, maybe he has jackets you can just throw on over the wings or something,” Jeremy said, slowly rising from the couch as Gregory and Evan stood to examine the list closer.

“We can handle this,” Evan said with full confidence. “And we’ll try to be fast so you can get started sooner.”

“Thank you, Evan.” There was a deeper tone of relief in Michael’s voice at that. “My heroes.”

Jeremy smiled wearily at them all. “I should probably get going.” It felt like intruding to stay this long. Sure, they all tried to include him, but Michael probably had other things he planned to do while Evan and Gregory were gone. Perhaps he needed to talk to his uncle more or something. Regardless, Jeremy had overstayed his welcome.

“I thought you said you could stay for supper.” Michael sounded wounded. “Are you feeling alright? Do you need to lie down?”

He pressed his hand against Jeremy’s forehead. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”

“I’m fine, Michael. I just don’t want to overstay my welcome, you know?” Jeremy ducked away from Michael’s hand and kept his gaze on the carpet. “Especially if you’re all going to be busy.”

“I won’t be busy until they get back,” Michael replied as Gregory tugged on Evan’s shirt to lead him away. “And even then, I won’t be too busy to talk. You can sit with me in the kitchen while I cook.”

“Yeah but…” Jeremy hesitated, combing a hand through his hair. “Look, I just don’t want to be in the way.”

“You won’t be,” Michael insisted. He sat down on the sofa where Gregory had been sitting before. Patting the cushion next to him, he waited for Jeremy to sit back down.

When Jeremy sat down, Michael gestured for him to scoot closer. “What are you doing?” Jeremy asked nervously.

“Your hair is a mess,” Michael replied. “I’m going to fix it for you.”

“What do you mean?” Jeremy frowned, patting his hair self-consciously.

“It’s all tangled. That’s going to be a nightmare to brush out tomorrow if you don’t take care of it tonight.”

“Oh.” Jeremy looked away. “It shouldn’t be your responsibility-“

“My wings shouldn’t have been yours,” Michael countered. “Let me do a nice thing for you. Please.”

“I helped with your wings because I wanted to spend time with you. Not because it was a burden, Mike.”

“This isn’t a burden to me either. Let me help. Maybe I want to spend more time with you too.”

Jeremy didn’t have a counter to that, so he reluctantly sighed. “Just… be gentle on it, okay?”

“Of course.” He blinked, seemingly surprised that Jeremy gave in so easily. “I do need to go grab a brush and a comb.”

“Naturally.” Jeremy shifted uncomfortably on the sofa as Michael got up.

What was he even supposed to say to Michael? He hadn’t expected to get this far, and now faced with the opportunity to have a casual conversation with him, Jeremy panicked.

When Michael got back, the hair brush he carried had long strands of dark brown hair in it, and both the brush and the comb were shining with water. “I hope you don’t mind,” Michael said awkwardly. “But I know that hair gets really, really tangled, so I just wanted to make sure I could get the tangles out without hurting you.”

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate. “And the water is supposed to fix tangles?”

“Better than a dry brush.”

Jeremy just stared. The most he’d been able to do with his hair was to throw it into the world’s worst ponytail when he needed it out of his face. All this talk of the more effective way to brush through his hair without making it hurt stirred something in his chest. There was nothing Michael would do that could possibly hurt more than the way he was currently doing his hair.

Michael sat back down and got to work. It was strange. Jeremy hadn’t had anyone brush his hair in a long time. His mother had been too busy with work to even notice that he needed help with his hair. Or anything really.

“You have really thick hair,” Michael mused softly.

“Yeah. Makes it a real pain sometimes,” Jeremy replied.

Michael was so gentle with it, apologizing softly when the brush scraped his ear or a snag was too rough. Eventually, though, he set the brush aside and started dividing his hair.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping you with your hair,” Michael replied as he started braiding it. “I assume you don’t have a hair brush for yourself, or maybe you just don’t have much time to do your hair every day. But at the very least, braiding it back at night prevents most tangles from getting worse.”

“How do you know so much about this stuff, dude?” Jeremy wondered. “Like, you know more about this than I do.”

“I…” Michael hesitated. “Evan’s not my only sibling. I had a sister. Elizabeth. Her hair was more of a nightmare than this.”

“Oh.” Jeremy fidgeted. He didn’t know what to do with that information.

“And, there!” Michael twisted a ponytail into the end of Jeremy’s hair. “Less problems for later, see?”

“Yeah.” Jeremy touched a hand to the braid, smiling softly. “Thanks, man.”

“It’s nothing.”

“But I say it is something. Come here, Mike.”

Michael’s wings fluffed up ever so slightly, but he did as Jeremy asked, unprepared for the tackle-hug Jeremy gave him. He gasped in alarm as they ended up on the floor, but when he looked up at Jeremy, it was with what Jeremy could only describe as adoration. Then he was suddenly pressed completely up against Michael as his wings wrapped around them both.

Of course, that was also the moment Evan and Gregory came back from their shopping trip with the supplies Michael had asked for. Letting Jeremy up, Michael immediately accepted the groceries from Evan and went straight to the kitchen. Gregory and Evan were left staring at Jeremy, who was sitting with a ridiculous grin on his face.

“Might need some help preparing this!” Michael called.

Before any of them could move toward the door, however, Henry walked by to go help Michael. Which left Jeremy to get teased by the two younger boys.

“What was that about?” Evan asked, picking a long blue feather out of Jeremy’s hair.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Gregory asked.

“Mike did my hair,” Jeremy replied, gesturing at the hairbrush that now had long strands of gold intertwined with the brown.

Evan looked thoughtful as he fiddled with the feather. “I didn’t know Mikey knew how to do hair.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Gregory asked, picking a smaller, brown feather from Jeremy’s shirt. “He could’ve done her hair once or twice.”

“Maybe…” Evan didn’t sound very sure. “Mikey wasn’t… I don’t know. Maybe he did. I never knew, though.”

“He did mention it when I asked…” Jeremy said, suddenly embarrassed to know more than Evan.

Evan fiddled with the feather more. “He seems to like you a lot.”

“Mike?” Jeremy asked, even more embarrassed now.

“Yeah. He smiles when he talks to you.”

“Except that one day,” Gregory interrupted. “He came inside and cried.”

“That was something else, I think,” Evan responded. “I think the Nightmares finally got to him.”

“So I take it Mike doesn’t usually talk about his issues then?”

“Not usually.” Evan squirmed, his wings puffing up. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah sure,” Jeremy shook his head and finally got off the floor. “Do you want to try playing Kings in the Corner again?”

“Ugh, that’s so boring,” Gregory replied, but Evan was already rushing off to get the cards.

“I need a second. I’ll be right back,” Jeremy said, slipping into the kitchen to grab another can of Coke.

Michael glanced over from where he was cutting an onion and just sighed. “Jeremy-“

“I know, I know. It’s bad for me or whatever. But I need it, okay?” Jeremy took a long swig from the can. “Better than some habits.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine dude. Cut your onion or whatever.”

Henry said something that Jeremy didn’t catch as he rushed back to the living room. “Okay, are we ready to start?”

“This game is stupid,” Gregory grumbled. He was holding his seven cards, and Evan had already laid out the board.

“I dealt, so Gregory goes first,” Evan replied, ignoring Gregory’s comment.

“Lucky,” Jeremy said, eyeing the board.

“I don’t even know how to play,” Gregory complained. “This game is for old people.”

“I guess we’re old then.” Jeremy’s eyes twinkled. “You have to play a card from your hand onto one of those four cards.” He pointed at the two of diamonds, the king of spades, the four of diamonds, and the seven of diamonds respectively. “You want it to be a lower rank, or less points than the card on the stack. And it’s gotta be the opposite color.”

“Oh.” Gregory stared at his hand for a moment.

“You gotta tell him about the kings, Jeremy.” Evan shook his head. “If there’s a king, you can move it into the spaces between the four other cards, and put a new foundation card down.”

“Huh.” Gregory frowned. “This is too confusing.”

“It really isn’t,” Jeremy laughed, taking another sip from his Coke. “If you really want, you can add your cards back to the foundation pile and watch me and Evan play a game.”

“I’m just going to do that.” Gregory stuck his cards back in the bigger stack.

“Suits don’t matter,” Evan said helpfully. “Only color does.”

Jeremy set off to move the king, and the game begun. Evan went out on his first turn.

“Okay, that was a bad example,” Evan said with a grin.

“You didn’t shuffle very well,” Jeremy said accusingly.  “That was- arghhh. We’re playing another game so Gregory can actually see how the game works.”

“Are we doing points?” Evan said innocently.

“We will once Gregory joins in,” Jeremy replied, collecting the cards from the board. “These are warm-up rounds.”

“Riiiiight,” Gregory replied with an amused snort. “You just got destroyed.”

“Thank you for the obvious and accurate commentary, Gregory.” Jeremy rolled his eyes.

When he flipped the four cards over, three of them were kings. Jeremy let out an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing and Evan grinned at the board. Just like that, he was down to one card. Jeremy scowled at his own cards as it became his turn.

“All four kings on the board in the first turn,” he grumbled.

“Now who’s bad at shuffling?” Evan replied, watching Jeremy’s hand drop to three cards.

“Oh, shut up.”

Evan snickered as it became his turn. “I almost wonder if you were trying to let me win.” He took the ace of diamonds and placed it on the two of clubs that Jeremy had missed during his turn. “Do you have the hang of it yet, Gregory? We may need a third player or this are going to be some very quick games.”

“Ha ha.” Jeremy said as Evan gathered up the cards again. “I’m just used to people who aren’t paying attention nearly as much as you do.”

“I’m just playing the game,” Evan said with a cheeky grin. “You had a six of spades in your hand? You could’ve played that on the seven-“

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jeremy sighed, exaggerating his grief as he drank from his can. “You have eyes like a hawk.”

Evan just hummed at that, his eyes twinkling as he shuffled the cards again. “What do you say, Gregory? Want to try and give it another shot?”

“Sure. Can’t be any worse than Jeremy, right?”

“Alright, I get it.” Jeremy shook his head. “I guess this game isn’t as awful as you want to claim it is, huh?”

“We’ll see.”

Evan pulled out a baggy filled with little red chips and shook it for a moment. “I didn’t have a chance to grab paper, so we can just play with chips, right?”

“Let’s give Gregory one trial run first,” Jeremy said as Gregory stared blankly at the chip bag. “Let him get a feel for the game.”

Gregory’s first round went okay. He managed to play half his cards in the first go, but he failed to notice that he could’ve moved the king to the corner right away, and Jeremy took advantage of that. Humming to himself, Jeremy quickly went through his turn and waited for Evan.

“That is absurd,” Gregory said, watching Evan put down cards and move piles around rapidly. “There’s no way you’re not cheating.”

“It’s all natural, Gregory,” Evan said cheerfully. “You’re just mad because I’m better at games than you are.”

“Grrrrrr….” Gregory scowled as Evan tapped his own card against the table. He put down his one card and waited for Jeremy to go.

Adding another person really did slow down the game a lot, Jeremy thought to himself. This was the first round someone had actually had to draw a card. Evan hummed, but he also needed to draw a card. Unlike Jeremy, however, Evan couldn’t play his. Finally, the game was even again.

Gregory scowled at his cards. “What do I do if I can’t play?”

“Draw,” Jeremy said. “We’ve both done it.”

Grumbling, Gregory drew a card. He brightened as he realized he could play it, and then it was Jeremy’s turn. Jeremy sighed in relief as he was able to play a card on Gregory’s queen, and then move a ten on top of that. Moment of truth, he thought to himself as Evan studied his hand. Michael’s brother shook his head and drew another card. And promptly played it.

Gregory and Jeremy both groaned at that. “See, but now things get interesting,” Evan said cheerfully. “We’ve all been drawing cards and actually have to pay attention to the board.”

“Don’t you always have to pay attention to the board?” Gregory asked as he drew another card. “Ugh.”

“Depends on how close,” Jeremy said smugly, laying down his one card. “I win this round.”

Evan sighed wearily, but he said nothing as Jeremy collected the cards to shove them at Gregory. “Your turn to shuffle.”

Gregory pushed the cards back at Jeremy. “I don’t know how.”

“I guess I can do it for you. But you’re still dealing, alright? Seven cards to each of us.”

Gregory nodded as Jeremy shuffled, and Evan quickly explained how chips worked. Everyone put one chip in at the beginning. Then, when you drew a card, you’d put another chip in. Each card at the end of the game still in your hand was another chip, except for kings. Kings were ten chips.

They all put one chip in the middle as Gregory passed out cards.

“Ready for your first real round, Gregory?” Jeremy asked, looking over his cards.

Gregory huffed, but he nodded anyway. “This is still dumb.”

“What if we made it a bit more fun?” Evan asked. “I’ll put in this feather.” He held up the blue feather he’d picked out of Jeremy’s hair.

“We’re playing for feathers?” Gregory asked. “But we both have feathers.”

“Not just any feathers. Michael’s feathers. I know him better than you do, trust me. He wouldn’t just give those away.”

Gregory considered it for a moment as Jeremy bit his lip. It seemed plenty easy to get feathers in his opinion. Michael shed two of them while Jeremy hugged him before. “Deal. I’ll put in this one.”

Gregory set the brown feather on top of the three chips. Evan did the same with the blue feather. Both of them glanced at Jeremy expectantly.

“I don’t have any. You both took those from me in the first place.” Jeremy rolled his eyes. The feathers were cool, though.

He kind of wished he had some of his own, maybe to braid through his hair or something. But that required winning this game. And since Evan was really good at Kings in the Corner, and also used all the chips in the box, it was really unlikely that he’d win them at the end.

“How about…” Jeremy put twenty more chips in the pot. “I know it doesn’t balance out at all, but you two seem to really want those feathers.”

Evan grinned, and so, the game began.

Gregory surprised them all by nearly going out in his first turn, but Evan still won the first game. They played in relative silence, too busy concentrating to hold a proper conversation. Evan crushed them in the first few rounds, but Gregory eventually got a win when Evan had 6 cards in his hand, resulting in a somewhat decent counter-balance.

It did nothing for Jeremy though. He looked nervously at his dwindling pile of chips every time the game ended and knew it was very unlikely that he’d win. It wasn’t impossible, sure, but it was incredibly unlikely.

“This is eight, Gregory,” Evan said absently, after Jeremy had already played his first turn. “We can play it, but you should pay better attention.”

Jeremy bit his lip at that. He was losing really bad. He really needed a win, and he needed one where the other two were struggling. Accidentally starting a round on eight cards was not a great way to start that.

“How did you even notice that?” Gregory asked.

“Eight feels thicker than seven.”

“How much do you play cards? Jeez,” Jeremy asked as it became Gregory’s turn.

“Enough,” Evan said with an amused smile. “I usually play alone.”

“This doesn’t feel like a game you can play alone,” Gregory muttered.

“You can. It’s just not as fun. But I don’t play this,” Evan said as Jeremy had to draw yet again. “I play Solitare.”

“Right, silly me.” Gregory shook his head. “Dude, how are you losing the game you suggested?”

“It takes a lot of luck, Gregory.” Jeremy sighed, having emptied his can of Coke long ago. “I’ve already accepted my fate. Now it’s just a matter of wondering who wins overall.”

They all fell quiet again as they settled back into their concentration. A few tense rounds went by as they all drew cards. When Evan finally played a card, Jeremy breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe he’d last another round.

Or… maybe not. It was a close thing, that balance between drawing and playing. “Are we going to go through the whole deck?” Gregory eventually wondered.

“Maybe,” Jeremy replied wearily.

The pot was massive at this point. Evan’s brow was continuously furrowed, and even his wings were stiff with concentration. There’s no strategy that trumps the good cards being at the bottom of the deck, Jeremy thought to himself with grim amusement.

“Ha!” Gregory shouted his delight as he finally laid his last card.

Jeremy sighed sorrowfully as he glanced at his four chips. He would only have two left for another game after this. If only it had been Jeremy who’d drawn the card to end the game.

“I don’t even remember who shuffled that one,” Jeremy said as Gregory gathered the pot.

“It was Gregory. He started us with eight cards,” Evan replied. “You shuffle next.”

“I’m not going to make it through this game,” Jeremy muttered.

“Then we’ll just play it out, and you can be done after,” Evan shrugged. “Who knows, maybe you’ll win?”

“For every draw you have that you can’t play, I’ll put in a chip,” Gregory offered as Jeremy put his last chip in the pot. “It’ll keep things fair.”

“I’m sure,” Jeremy muttered.

“Awww, you are a grumpy old man. Evan look! He’s so grumpy.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

Evan put his last card down, and Jeremy shook his head. “I’m out. Good luck, Gregory.”

He wondered what Michael and Henry were up to in the kitchen. It had been two hours of this, after all. Surely preparing a meal wouldn’t take that long, especially since Evan implied Michael was making spaghetti.

“Okay, I gotta know. What spaghetti takes three hours to make?” Jeremy said, sitting down at the kitchen table with Henry.

“It’s not the spaghetti that takes so long,” Michael replied from the stove. “It’s the sauce.”

“But why?”

“The flavor has to soak in from the leaves.” Michael shrugged, moving to sit down with them. “What were you playing in there?”

“Cards.” Jeremy shrugged. “Gregory said it was for old people.”

“Then he must have never played cards before,” Henry commented.

“Maybe it’s his age,” Michael suggested.

“Nah. Your brother got really into it. He’s been beating both of us.”

“THAT’S SO STUPID!!!” Gregory shouted from the other room.

Evan laughed and said something in response, as they all glanced toward the hallway.

“No way,” Gregory said, his voice still projecting from the other room. “That’s so stupid!”

“I think the sauce is about done,” Michael said, rising from his seat again. “I should probably begin on the actual spaghetti.”

“I appreciate you deciding to cook for us, Michael,” Henry said. “And not that I’m complaining about your food, but this seems more complicated than some of the other stuff you’ve made.”

Michael just blinked at him, filling a pot with water. “It’s just spaghetti.”

Gregory and Evan walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “It smells great in here,” Evan said.

Michael glanced at his brother and at Gregory for a moment. “Who won?”

“Evan,” Gregory grumbled crossing his arms. “But he cheats.”

“I do not! Withholding cards on my turn is within the rules of the game. Just because it means you have to draw more doesn’t mean it’s cheating!” Evan argued.

“He’s right, Gregory. If he’s withholding cards, it’s still a risk to him since you can easily draw a card at any moment and win the game yourself. There’s a reason it’s ten chips if you’re holding a king at the end of the game.”

“Hmph,” Gregory scowled.

“Jeremy, do you need a new bandage for your face?” Henry asked as Gregory and Evan glared at each other from across the table.

“What? Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Jeremy hadn’t realized that the edge of his bandage was peeling off.

“We’ll get that taken care of later,” Henry said. “Were you planning on staying over tonight?”

“I…” Jeremy glanced around the room. “I don’t know.”

“If you decide to stay, let me know so I can tell your parents,” Henry replied, seemingly satisfied. “And would you like another can of Coca-Cola?”

“Yes please.”

“Don’t encourage his addiction, Henry.” Michael crossed his arms as he leaned against the counter.

Jeremy responded by sticking his tongue out at Michael. Michael shook his head and rolled his eyes, but Jeremy saw a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Can I have one too?” Gregory asked.

“Absolutely not,” Michael replied. His wings twitched slightly. “You’re done with caffeine for the rest of the night. If you’re this loud after half a can, I shudder to think of what would happen if you got a full can of Coke.”

“You’re not my mom,” Gregory grumbled.

Jeremy’s mouth twitched. “He tries to act like it though, doesn’t he?”

Michael made an indignant noise as Gregory burst out laughing. Evan giggled too, adding, “Mama bird Mike.”

All three of them broke into bad laughing fits at that one. Henry and Michael just exchanged an exasperated look as Michael stirred the spaghetti. “I can act like it if you really want me to,” Michael eventually said. “But I don’t think you’d like the response, seeing as you two are baby birds in this analogy.”

“What do you mean?” Gregory asked, bewildered.

“I think what he’s getting at,” Jeremy said, amusement glinting in his eye, “is that mother birds regurgitate food into their chicks mouths.”

“Ewwwww,” Gregory gagged.

Evan snorted. “Mikey wouldn’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Michael raised an eyebrow. “I’ve certainly done worse.”

Evan froze at that. He seemed to be considering Michael’s point. “He totally would…” Evan sounded horrified.

“And with that terrible mental image, it seems that the spaghetti is done!” Henry said, putting a can of Coke in front of Jeremy before going to fetch everyone plates.

“I just need to strain the noodles, and we’re all set,” Michael said. “Could you grab the strainer please?”

Henry nodded and retrieved the strainer. Evan hummed to himself as he fiddled with the two feathers he’d won in the card game. Gregory said nothing, but Jeremy could tell it he was still bitter from his loss. Surely Michael wouldn’t be unwilling to give up feathers if they asked, Jeremy thought to himself. Maybe he’d be uncomfortable with the idea, but if Gregory said how much he really wanted them, Jeremy was sure Michael would give in eventually.

“It’s going to be hot.” Michael warned, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the table.

Henry quickly placed a potholder beneath it, and Michael went back to retrieve the sauce for the spaghetti. “Do you want to get cups out, Evan?”

Evan nodded and got up from his spot. “Gregory, you can get the plates.”

The whole group cycled around the kitchen like a little family, and Jeremy felt a little self-conscious about his place in everything, so he went and grabbed forks for everyone. It was the least he could do.

Michael dished out the food, putting just enough sauce on their spaghetti that they could avoid it if they wanted to. All of them were a little skeptical of the meal, but they all trusted that Michael knew what he was doing. Gregory and Evan both seemed startled by the taste, but Henry simply raised an eyebrow as he took a bite. Michael didn’t seem particularly concerned about their reaction, though.

He was too busy observing Jeremy when he tried it.

It was… spicier than he expected. Jeremy glanced at Michael, suddenly suspicious of him. Michael blinked at him, casually taking a bite of his own spaghetti. Jeremy glanced at him again before moving his plate to the saucepan full of spaghetti sauce and adding more to his plate.

Michael’s slow smile made Jeremy feel even more confident about his decision. Somehow, Michael had figured him out yet again, almost without effort. Jeremy stuck another forkful in his mouth and smiled back at him.

“Gregory, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick,” Evan said.

“It’f, fine.” Gregory swallowed hard.

“Careful you don’t choke,” Henry said warningly.

Gregory set his fork down quietly, his eyes watering. He coughed a little bit, causing Michael to turn to him with concern. “Gregory? Are you alright?”

Gregory fanned himself, and Jeremy immediately figured out what was going on. “Too spicy for you? You barely had any!” He shook his head and poured Gregory a glass of milk. “Drink this. It’ll help.”

Gregory eagerly took the glass, draining it in less than a minute. “Mmmmm.”

The rest of the meal went in relative silence, with Evan and Henry occasionally teasing Gregory for eating too fast and being unable to handle spicy food. Michael seemed oblivious to the main conversation, smiling softly to himself.

Jeremy knew he was staring, but he figured it wouldn’t be the biggest deal. Plenty of people stared at their friends, right? At the way they twisted spaghetti noodles onto their forks and brought their forks to their mouths. At the way their eyes glowed with joy at making something new successfully.

Michael caught his eye, and the smile widened. Jeremy felt himself smiling back easily. He’d already finished his food, and Evan and Gregory had finished half the spaghetti by themselves. There wouldn’t be many leftovers anyway.

Henry was the first to move from the table. He collected plates from everyone to take to the sink. When Michael moved to help, Henry waved him off, insisting that since Michael made the meal, he shouldn’t have to clean it up, with a meaningful look toward Evan and Gregory. He stopped Jeremy when he tried to get up too, insisting that guests shouldn’t need to help.

“But I thought we were guests,” Gregory grumbled when Evan tapped his arm to help him get up.

“Jeremy, that bandage really does need to be changed before you go,” Henry said quietly, gathering the leftovers into different containers.

“I can help him with it,” Michael said.

“Michael, you’ve done enough today. Especially with how you were feeling this morning-“

“I can help,” Michael interjected stubbornly.

Jeremy raised a confused eyebrow at the way Michael’s wings and hair ruffled.

“You need rest,” Henry said in a tone that brokered no argument.

Still, Michael persisted, the feathers now completely refusing to lay flat. Jeremy wondered how this could possibly be something he’d need to be so defensive about. “Hey, maybe Henry’s right. You have done a lot today.”

Michael scowled at that, and he grabbed Jeremy’s arm and practically dragged him out of his chair.

“What- Hey!” Jeremy stumbled into Micheal, expecting him to apologize or something.

“There’s the old Mike,” Evan mumbled quietly.

Michael’s face was right in front of Jeremy’s as he spoke. “I know my limits.”

“Do you?” Gregory challenged. He didn’t seem frightened in the slightest, which was very different from the atmosphere surrounding Michael at that moment. “To me it seems like you keep going until you drop. Maybe you should just get rid of that chip on your shoulder and let someone else handle it for once!”

“Like you did?” Michael snapped, and at that, Gregory actually flinched. “Sometimes, you can’t trust that help will come, Gregory. You should know that better than anyone.”

Gregory’s grip on the plate in his hands tightened. “Yeah, well, I didn’t have a family who took care of me like you do! So just suck it up.” Jeremy heard tears behind those words, and Evan mumbled something gently to him and tried to get him to turn his back on Michael.

That seemed to break something in Michael’s resilience. His wings twitched, and he let go of Jeremy’s shirt. “Right. Sorry.” He sounded just as torn as Gregory. “I…”

Jeremy figured nothing would be helped by Michael sticking around in the kitchen, so he tentatively put a hand to Michael’s shoulder. “Hey, you can help with my bandage. Maybe just tell me how to put it on so I do it right tomorrow morning, yeah?”

“So you aren’t staying then?” Henry asked, looking worriedly between the four boys.

Michael’s ashen expression was not particularly reassuring. “No, I mean. If it’s okay for me to stay, I plan to. I just… Maybe it should be my responsibility to fix that?” Jeremy gestured at the scratch on his face. “Seems like all I’m doing here is making more messes anyway. Might as well try to clean one up myself, right?”

Henry frowned but he said nothing.

Jeremy leaned close to Michael’s ear. “Come on then.”

“I didn’t mean to… I hurt his feelings,” Michael mumbled as he mechanically peeled the rest of the bandage away from Jeremy’s face to wipe at the scratch with a wet cloth.

“Energy was running high. Maybe you are a bit more overwhelmed then you thought? Frayed nerves break way for anger sometimes. Or so I’ve heard.”

“I still shouldn’t have done that.” Michael couldn’t even look Jeremy in the eye. He was too distraught.

“Why did you get so defensive, if you don’t mind me asking? And I’m not just talking about Gregory. You were adamant about helping me with my bandage.”

“I just…” Michael hesitated. “I haven’t had a chance to see you in days, and I wanted to get every moment I could?”

“An afternoon together wasn’t enough?” Jeremy teased, even though he knew exactly how Michael was feeling. “Look, that’s okay, Mike. But you gotta take care of yourself too.”

“Yeah, but-“

“What do you want? I know you think you have to help everybody all the time, but you’ve gotta have desires too, right?”

“Maybe I don’t deserve to have my desires realized,” Michael replied. He still wasn’t looking at Jeremy. “Maybe I’m just a rotten person who doesn’t deserve joy or anything that doesn’t directly benefit anybody else.”

“Michael Afton.” Jeremy said, trying to sound stern. “You are a human being just like everyone else. We all make mistakes. And you sound like you’re trying to atone for yours. I don’t know about you, but someone who tries to learn from their mistakes sounds like someone who deserves to have what they want every now and again.”

Michael completely froze at that. When he met Jeremy’s eyes, he looked utterly shattered. “I…” He swallowed. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“That’s okay, Mike. No one is asking you to do everything-“

“No, you don’t understand.” His voice was hardly a whisper. “I’ve… That scolding… You’ve said that to me before.”

“I have?”

Michael nodded mutely. “It was right before…” His wings stretched their full length as Michael squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t.”

“What can’t you do, Michael?” Jeremy asked softly.

A pained noise rumbled in Michael’s throat, and he dropped the cloth, yanking Jeremy forward by his shirt. Their mouths crashed together, and all Jeremy could think was finally. His own hands went behind Michael’s shoulders, and he gently guided the wings back into a folded position before stroking them gently.

He didn’t want to stop kissing Michael. It was freeing and exhilarating at the same time. Michael tasted like bubble gum and smelled like clean laundry. He was the weirdest man Jeremy had ever met, but maybe that was what made him so alluring. Or maybe it was something else. Something about all this just seemed so… right.

When Michael broke away, Jeremy tried to follow. Michael looked at him fondly and laughed. “I thought you said I needed to take care of myself.”

“I can’t be that addicting,” Jeremy said impulsively.

Michael snorted. “I need air, Jeremy. We were both going to pass out if we kept that up.”

“Can we do it again?” Jeremy didn’t care about air. He just wanted to be close to Michael, wanted to make him smile, wanted to make him laugh.

Michael laughed again, a brilliant sound, before Jeremy pressed their lips back together. It was completely perfect.

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Surprise! (bucky barnes)

Summary: you thought everyone forgot your birthday.

Warnings: none, fluff at the end.

WC: 600ish

A/N: my birthday was October 8. i was feeling super sad and miserable that day and I didn't want to keep posting sad things on here on that day. So viola. have a sad reader on her birthday. lol

Read on Ao3!

-

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the bustling streets of New York. The city was alive with chatter and laughter, but in your small apartment, you felt an unsettling quiet. It was your birthday, but no one seemed to remember.

You had casually dropped hints to your friends in the days leading up to today—talking about your favorite cake, reminiscing about past celebrations—but as the hours slipped away, your excitement faded into disappointment. Messages were scarce, and the few you received were vague: “Happy Wednesday!” or “Can’t wait to catch up soon!”

With a heavy heart, you settled onto the couch, scrolling through social media. Everyone seemed to be having fun, but you felt like a ghost, floating through a world that had forgotten you.

Just as you were about to turn off your phone and give in to the sadness, a knock echoed through your apartment. You sighed, hoping it was a friend stopping by with a slice of cake or, at the very least, a friendly face.

When you opened the door, there stood Bucky Barnes, his signature smile brightening the dim hallway. “Hey, you! Ready for some fun?”

“Fun? What do you mean?” You forced a smile, trying to hide the heaviness in your chest.

“Oh, you know, just thought we could hang out. Got some stuff planned,” he said, stepping inside. His easy demeanor made you feel a little lighter, and you nodded, grateful for the distraction.

As the evening wore on, Bucky introduced you to a series of games and movies, keeping the atmosphere light. You laughed at his antics, but deep down, you felt the ache of disappointment. You wanted to celebrate, to feel special, but it seemed like this was just another ordinary night.

“Okay, I’ll be right back,” Bucky said, heading toward the kitchen. You watched him go, feeling a mix of appreciation and sadness. Just as you settled back into your thoughts, the doorbell rang again.

Bucky returned with an armful of snacks. “I hope you like pizza rolls,” he said, grinning. You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “But we’re not done yet!”

Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed your hand and led you back to the door. He opened it wide, revealing a group of your closest friends, all smiling and holding balloons, streamers, and a giant cake that read “Happy Birthday!”

Your heart leapt, and your eyes widened in disbelief. “You…you all remembered?”

Bucky stepped forward, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Of course we did! We just wanted to make it special. You mean a lot to us, and we couldn’t let your birthday go by without a proper celebration.”

Tears brimmed in your eyes as you turned to face your friends. They all chimed in, “Surprise!” and wrapped you in hugs. The warmth of their love washed over you, banishing the loneliness that had settled in your heart.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you whispered, feeling overwhelmed with joy. “I can’t believe you did all this for me.”

Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, it was a team effort, but I wanted you to know how much you’re loved.”

As the night unfolded, laughter and music filled your apartment, and the worries of the day faded away. You danced, played games, and shared stories, surrounded by friends who cherished you.

In that moment, you realized that even on days you felt forgotten, there was always love waiting to surprise you. And with Bucky by your side, you knew you would never be alone.

[magics-neptunes-things]

Feelings (5)

Hi guys!

New chapter for this Serie, I hope you'll like it too :) Don't be shy about telling what you think about it, or asking if you want to have something special in it. I had a request from here for this one, so I hope it will be ok like this :)

Please enjoy ♥

TW : Suggestive, sex talk (?)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Saying goodbye to Alessia was hard, but you didn’t have the choice. You knew since the start of all this that it would happen, but that doesn’t mean it was making things easier.

You find your apartment like you left it, your friend Sofia came several times to ventilate it and take care of your olive tree. That you renamed Olivio, with all the imagination that is yours. The only thing that changed, is that there is no Alma laying on your couch like she was used to do when you were away. You always hided your keys under your doormat for her to come, but you asked Sofia to take it away for now. You still have things belonging to Alma in here though.

You send them to her by the post before going to your first training session. Your Spanish teammates look at you with friendly compassion when your arrived and you realize that you almost forgot that you lost a finale several days before. Alessia made you forget.

You find your habits really quickly, even if Laia Codina or Jenni are not part of the team anymore. But Ona being one to replace them, you’re pretty sure that Lucy isn’t too mad. You still have to talk to her about Alessia though, you knew that she went on holidays with Ona and didn’t want to bother her. And you teased her so much about Ona that you’re sure she won’t miss to tease you back for now.

Cata Coll is one of your closest friends here and it’s with her that you appear for the first time back on Fc Barcelona Feminin’s Instagram. The training was lighter the first days, but you soon go back to the real session.

“So. You and Less?” asks Lucy one afternoon where you are at her flat after the training.

“Yes?” you answer innocently.

You were playing against each other at Fifa on Playstation, Lucy’s actually crushing you with Manchester City. You’re still trying to figure how she can be good at everything.

“How did you get together?”

“What tell you that we are together?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh I don’t know. Maybe because you were making out in the plane when I came back to ask if I can borrow your earphones?”

Sitting on the other couch while scrolling on her phone, Ona can’t help but snort. You don’t mind her being here while you’re talking about your love life. You like her and she’s your mate’s girlfriend. You better get along and for now it’s working great. You smile too, to be fair, even if you blush lightly.

“We didn’t put a label on it, so I don’t know if I can call her my girlfriend” you answer, frowning softly.

It was the truth, even if you both said that you won’t go for someone else. You really hope that no one will catch Alessia’s eyes at Arsenal or even London. She’s starting again in a new environment; she doesn’t know everyone for now. You trust her obviously, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t lose interest in you.

“We did that at first too” Lucy answers. “Long-distance was hard, but really worth it if you’re meant to be.”

You hum, missing the complicit smile between Ona and Lucy. You sigh when Lucy scores another goal just before the end of the game. With a disgusted air, you let the controller fall on the couch.

“I’ve never been in a long-distance relationship before. It’s strange, to be honest, not being able to take the girl you like on date or something.”

“It is” Lucy smiles, patting your knee softly. “If you need advice or only talking, you can come to me. Or Mariona, she’s dealing with it for longer that I was.”

You nod. You somehow forgot that Mariona is dating Alessia’s teammate. Maybe you can take planes together sometimes, you think with irony.

“And Alma?” Lucy asks.

“Never heard from her again. I send her the things she left in my apartment and that’s all.”

********

You took the habits to call Alessia every night. She’s usually cooking her diner and put her phone against one of her kitchen walls to be able to cook while talking to you. You can really look at her for hours doing it. You only regret not being able to stick against her while she cuts some vegetables.

“What do you like to eat?” Alessia asks you that night.

You were silently observing her, lost in your contemplation.

“Oh uh… It depends” you shrug. “I’m not really difficult, I mean I think?”

Alessia laughs softly.

“I cooked for Leah two days ago, it was entertaining” the blonde says.

You smirk, knowing exactly what it could have been. You never met anyone as picky as Leah when it comes from food. You can guess her choice when you go to restaurant with her, it’s always the simplest dish.

“Why do you ask anyway?” you ask Alessia.

She looks genuinely surprise by your question, stopping to cut her carrots to look at you better.

“Don’t you come next week to London?”

“Yes?”

“Well I want to cook for you, obviously. We chose to get delivered almost at every meal we share when we stayed at home, but I really want to cook for you.”

“Ok” you smile softy. “Only if you let me take you on a proper date.”

“Is that even a deal?” Alessia smiles at you.

You feel your heart beating faster and God, how did you survive when she smiled at you that way in front of you?

Several days later, you were leaving training in hurry. You have two hours to go to the airport after your session and you came with your suitcase to go for it straight after your shower.

“Why are you in such hurry?” Jana asks from her cubby.

“She’s going to her girlfrieeeend” Cata sings from her spot.

“Girlfriend?”

Keira’s voice came from the other side of the room, and you flinch. Right, you didn’t talk to Keira about your new relationship. For your defense, you were thinking that Leah would. You grimace to Cata, grabs your suitcase and go for the exit.

“Say Alessia I say hi” Lucy shouts before getting hit by Ona on her arm.

“Alessia?”

You giggle when you hear the surprise in Keira’s voice but don’t take the time to answer, too scared to miss your plane. You jump in the taxi waiting for you and went for the airport.

It’s only when your luggage are taking care by the company that you take your phone off of your pocket. You wanted at first to write to Alessia to let her know that you were on your way, but you have some messages from Keira too.

Keira 🥠 Alessia??? Like in Alessia Russo? You better answer me right now, Kid.

You Who’s Alessia Russo?

Keira 🥠 You little shit. Bring back some Scones.

During the two hours and twenty-one minutes of the trip, you slept. You went to bed late this week, not being able to hang up with Alessia, even if you knew that you would see her today.

You are alert when you arrive in London, by dint of traveling from this airport, you know it by heart. There is an hour of time difference with Spain, so you feel like you have only left Spain for an hour and a half. The sandwich you snacked while waiting for your suitcase will allow you to wait until you arrive at Alessia’s, who promised to cook for you tonight. You know that you have at least one hour to go to Alessia’s house, London traffic jam being awful.

You were taping on your phone for an Uber when a voice next to you make you jump out of your skin.

“Hi stranger!”

You jump, turning around only to be face with the mischievous face of your gi… Alessia. She was supposed to be at London, not at the airport. You might look stupid when you look at her with wide eyes and your mouth slightly open. It made Alessia giggles, and you feel your stomach make a jump at the sound.

“Lessi? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I have a great visitor coming to mine this weekend, so I decided to come to take her home.”

“No, I mean…”

“I know what you mean” Alessia laughs before kissing your cheek. “I changed my media hours with Kyra to be here at the right time.”

“Oh.”

You blush and let Alessia takes your suitcase. You then follow her to the parking lot, slaloming between people. You want to take Alessia’s hand in yours, but you don’t want to make her uneasy. There are a lot of people here.

You are happy to be sitting on the passenger’s seat of her car, who is definitely more comfortable than your seat on the plane. You can’t stop to look at her and just because she’s just next to you right now, you softly stroke her cheek before taking her hand in yours.

“I missed you” you mumble when she looks at you.

She is driving and you should have taken the opportunity to kiss her before you left the parking, but you maybe will have plenty of time to do it at her home.

“I missed you too” Alessia smiles.

She asks about your trip; you ask her about her day and finally the journey for her house isn’t so long. Even if there are a lot of people on the road at this time of the day.

“Leah wants to meet you during your stay” Alessia said at one time during the trip. “I told her not today because you will be tired, but maybe tomorrow morning? She can come to have a brunch or something before the game?”

“It sounds nice” you smile, not mentioning that only seeing her is enough for you.

Alessia had a game tomorrow afternoon, but it let you all tonight, all day after the game and all the next day too. You will leave on Monday morning very early to be at training in the morning. And you are determined to enjoy it the most possible.

You are happy to find Alessia’s house too, looking around you, you notice that some things as changed since you came the last time. She added some decorations. Alessia showed you during one of your FaceTime, but it’s different like this. You just have the time to look at the picture she took in Australia during the World Cup, before you feel her arms around you.

“I didn’t have my hello kiss.”

You smile, putting your hand on her arms.

“That’s a shame. It needs to be fixed.”

“It does.”

You turn around in her arms, passing both of yours around her neck. You take the time to look at her properly, her eyes, her freckles, and her smile, before leaning in to kiss her. You can’t explain how much you missed that feeling. Alessia sighs against you and you get even closer to her, melting in her embrace.

“That’s better” Alessia smiles after the kiss.

She then kisses your nose, your forehead, both of your cheeks and finish on your lips again.

“Are you tired? Do you want to take a nap while I’m cooking?”

“Like I’m going to sleep instead of being with you.” you snort.

Alessia rolls her eyes but takes you by your hand anyway. She made you sit on a stool at the central island of her kitchen with a mug of tea. You listen to her, Alessia making almost all the conversation, but it’s always like this between you. You love to hear her talking, trying to remember every little thing she says to you.

Your eyes are going sometimes on her bum, you have to admit. But if she notices, she doesn’t say anything. You proposed to help her two times, but she refused, saying that you can help tomorrow. You will.

Her lasagna is amazing.

“It’s my Nona’s recipe” Alessia smiles when you compliment her.

You made the dishes for her, ignoring her protests, and end up cuddle with her on her couch in front of some film she chooses. But you don’t even try to look at it, you are way more interested about your girlfriend than Blake Lively fighting for her life. You try hard not to bother her too much, but you can’t stop yourself from kissing her cheek, her hair or playing with her fingers.

But Alessia doesn’t seem to mind, actually she has a small smile on her face every time you look at her.

“I missed your smell” Alessia mumbles after another kiss.

You smile, because you said yourself the same things a lot of time during the time you were at Barcelona. And you promised yourself that you will take one of her hoodies when you will leave.

You stroke the skin of her neck with your nose before kissing it several times. But then she softly bites your ear, and you feel your body being swept by electric currents. The sensations are hard to ignore.

They are so hard to ignore that you found yourself with your girlfriend, both naked, some hours later, laying in her bed. Alessia is laying on her back while you are on her belly. One of her hands is playing with your hair and you are trying hard not to fall asleep already.

“Can I ask you something?” Alessia whispers “But you have to promise not to mock me.”

“Of course you can Sweetheart. I won’t make fun of you, promise.”

You turn your head on her to have a better look at her and even if the light of her bedside lamp isn’t strong, you can see that she had blush. You watch her bite her lip and fight the want to bite at it, too. You need to stay focused; you are curious about what is in her mind.

“So… As you know, you are my first girl experiment” she begins waiting for you to hum before talking again. “Well to know how to do things right, I made some research and…”

“You made research?” you ask with a smile.

But Alessia frowns, slapping you softly on your arm.

“Babe, you promised!”

“I’m not making fun of you” you swear, still smiling. “I find it cute.”

Alessia groans and you giggle softly, moving a little on her to be able to kiss her cheek. She’s hot under your lips, attesting of your girlfriend’s blush. She smiles though and clear her throat nervously before talking again.

“So, like I was saying, I made some research and I saw that there is a lot of things to use when two women are, you know, having sex?”

“Yes?” you only say, not wanting to interrupt her again.

“It made me wonder if maybe you like to use them? And if what we’re making is annoying for you. And then I thought that maybe I should buy some of them, but I didn’t know which one you like, or you want?”

She stops talking, a little out of breath. She talked quickly though and that might explain that. She seems nervous so you take her hand in yours to try to sooth her a little bit.

“Ok, first, what kind of things did you see?”

Alessia blushes violently and you can’t help but smile again.

“Alessia Russo, did you watch porn?” you laugh.

“No!” she shouts, sitting up in the bed. “I went to website selling toys, I didn’t watch adult’s movies.”

You roll your eyes, asking yourself how a girl you just have sex with can be so shy about something like that. But that’s the innocent part of Alessia talking maybe. And you love it as much as you love every other part of her. You sat too when she sat up and you take support on her knees to lean on her and kiss her.

“Ok first of all, what we are doing is absolutely perfect to me. It’s special because it’s you and I love every second of it, every time even more.”

You are close to admit how much she affects you, but it’s not exactly admitting that you are in love with her for years. You want to reassure her anyway; you had your first time with someone before and you don’t want Alessia to feel insecure. Or worst, not enough.

It seems to work because she is smiling again, and you can’t resist to the want to kiss her again.

“But if you want to try some things together, we can do it too. Or if you miss something –“

“No” she cuts you, shaking her head. “I don’t miss anything I swear.”

She’s blushing again but you feel like she’s telling you the truth. When she talks again, she’s mumbling, looking at her fingers.

“It’s just that I never felt that way before and I want you to feel as good as I am.”

You could literally melt right now. You take a big breath, drawing her attention on you again.

“Lessi, you have no idea how good you make me feel. Really.”

She seems skeptical though, looking at you attentively. That girl will be the death of you.

“But I’m not experimented like the other girls you slept with” she points, frowning. “How can it be as good as you say?”

“I told you. Because it’s you.”

She looks at you for several seconds before smiling shyly, and you are smiling back. You are touched that she had this process and how much your well-being count for her. You sometimes struggle to realize that after all those years you are Alessia Russo’s… things. You really had to talk about it at some point, but the talk you’re having tonight is maybe enough for now.

“Do you want to buy some things though?” Alessia asks. “You didn’t answer about you having anything, but I don’t really want to use something you already… Well, you know.”

“I understand” you smile softly. “We’ll look together, ok?”

Laying down on the bed again, you take her in your arms this time, kissing her softly. She seems to be relaxed now and you let yourself go against Alessia’s mattress. You love sleeping here. Everything smells Alessia.

“By the way, please don’t tell Leah what we’ve done tonight. We’re not supposed to do something physically tiring the night before games.” Alessia smirks several minutes after, making you laugh.

********

You need a little bit of conviction to get up from the bed and your girlfriend embrace the day after. You are still a bit tired and it’s only the idea of Leah coming to find you both in bed because you are late that makes you get up.

“You are late” Leah grumble when you arrive with Alessia.

“Sorry, sleepyhead here had trouble getting up” Alessia smirks.

“I’m on the Spanish schedule, it’s not my fault” you yawn.

Leah don’t have time to grumble one more time, because the waitress came soon after to give you the menu to chose what to eat. You study it with seriousness, your stomach feeling a little bit empty.

“The usual Less?” the waitress asks to Alessia.

You frown, looking at your girlfriend who nod and give her menu back. Leah passes her command after her and you have to fight the strange feeling you have to ask what you want too. Leah seems to have forget about your delay when the waitress left, but you still have that mix of jealousy and discomfort. Alessia never hide what she does during her day, and she told you several time that she went to brunch or eat breakfast with some of her teammates, but you never imagined that there will be a pretty brunette who seems to know your girlfriend’s order by heart.

“I’m talking to you, Sleepy” Leah says, kicking you under the table.

“Wow, way to hurt your opponent?” you grumble while Leah rolls her eyes. “What was it again?”

“Keira. She asks me to remember to bring her Scones.”

“Oh” you smirk softly, remembering what happened in the locker room yesterday. “She told you that she knows about Alessia and I?”

You explain to Alessia yesterday what happened, and she’s smiling too. She didn’t look sad or hurt that you kind of forgot to talk about it to Keira.

“She told me she discovered because your teammates can’t keep their mouths shut” Leah smirk.

“It was Lucy to be fair.”

Leah rolls her eyes one more time while Alessia laughs, but your smile is quickly faded when the waitress is back. She once again turns in Alessia’s direction with a big smile at first, before giving Leah’s plate then yours. You don’t like the way she looks at your girlfriend or even how she smiles at her.

Your eyebrows are still frown when you look at your plate and suddenly the bacon in it doesn’t seems as yummy as it should. Being already concerned by your changing mood, Alessia discreetly take your hand in hers while Leah is concentrated in her plate.

“What’s up?” Alessia whispers.

“Nothing” you say, forcing a smile.

But that doesn’t work. Alessia frowns, looking deeply into your eyes.

“Communication, remember?”

You sigh softly. She’s right, you promised each other to always talk to the other is something is wrong. But you don’t want to do it here.

“Later, ok?”

Alessia nods, but she doesn’t let go of your hand and relax only when you start to eat. The food is delicious to be honest and you understand why Alessia keep coming here. You don’t know what you will say to her about your feelings, you feel bad at the idea of depriving her from this menu.

When you’re finish, you went right to the stadium. You follow Leah in the parking lot and then follow Alessia who introduces you to the different places and people who punctuate her training sessions. You meet almost all of her teammates too, even if you know some of them already. Like Laia Codina, who you know because she was at Barcelona and that you are happy to see again or Beth Mead with who you play for England.

You already know Lia or Jen because of Leah and you are kind of relax around the team. When they need to get training, Alessia goes with you to the friend and family section, holding your hand.

“So, what happened during the breakfast?” Alessia asks.

You sigh softly. You have forgotten that you were supposed to talk to your girlfriend about this. You look at her and she’s already looking at you, concern in her soft baby blue eyes.

“It’s nothing, it’s just… that girl from the Café? The waitress?” Alessia nods, so you continue. “She was looking at you like you are the most beautiful thing in the world and she’s right because you are, but it makes me realize that she can see you every morning if she wants to and I can’t. And that made me miss you, which is probably stupid because you were sitting right next to me, but…”

You shrug, not knowing how to end your sentence. But Alessia nods once again, seeming to understand what you were meaning. Which is already relieving at your eyes. She squeezes your hand softly before answering.

“It’s not stupid at all, I understand the feeling. I miss to have you next to me in the morning and falling asleep against you at night. I miss you almost every second of the day. But we chose to give us a chance and we knew what it would be. I’m sure it’s worth it.”

You feel your heart fluttered once again and you look around you to be sure that no one is near you, before taking her tight in your arms. She holds you as tight as you are doing, and it help you to feel better.

“I have nothing to worry about, right?” you whisper with your chin on her shoulder.

“Nothing.”

She backs her head to have a look at you and she’s smiling softly. You trust her, of course you do. She’s like the sweetest and the gentlest human being. And then she kisses you, not long but softly.

When Alessia left you in the family and friend section, you go to look for your seat, but you are soon spotted by Amanda, Leah’s mom. She waves at you and makes sign for you to come to her, which you do because no one can refuse anything to Leah’s mum.

“Hi darling!” she says happily when you are at her level. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, uh…” you mumble while she hugs you.

“Leah told me why you’re here, but don’t worry your secret is safe with me.”

She smiles at you, taping your cheek in a motherly way before making you sit next to her. You recognize next to her Leah’s nan, who you salute too. Amanda looks at your shirt, raising an eyebrow.

“Not wearing an Arsenal jersey?”

“Alexia would probably kill me if I do something like this” you laugh. “Maybe she would make an exception for Alessia’s, but I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”

“Why that? Everyone seems to think that Less and you are good friends.”

Amanda seems to know what happened in the social media, with the video of you going to recomfort Alessia after the finale in Australia. Everyone said how much you are a good friend, choosing to make your friend’s feelings better rather than being focused on yours.

“I’ll think about it for the next time” you promise.

“Great. In the meantime, wear this.”

Without letting you the time to look at what it exactly was, Amanda put one Arsenal scarf on your shoulders. Leah’s face is print on it, and if you don’t see at least one twitt or one TikTok editing you with your friend, it would be a miracle.

[koolades-world]

Happy Birthday Mc!

today is my birthday so I decided to make a special post in celebration! this usually won't happen but I figured I'd put in a little extra effort for the occasion!!!

Lucifer

"It's your birthday? Have my best wishes. Meet me in the garden behind the house after dinner. I have a surprise for you. See you then."

treats you to anything you said you wanted over the past year

expect flowers, a giant cake, and dinner at the fanciest place he could find

he feels like he doesn't appreciate you enough, so he practically treats you like royalty

lets you cuddle him to your hearts content <3

Mammon

"Happy birthday, human! What, did ya think I forgot? Of course I didn't. Here, I got this for ya. Get ready for a day of fun with your best man!"

so excited that it's your birthday and goes all out

he's never spent so much money on someone that wasn't himself before, but he couldn't thank you more for everything

makes sure you don't have to lift a single finger, even if you fight him on it

gives you a cute little birthday crown that he made himself, and of course, you wear it with glee

Levi

"Happy birthday! Gah, I hope that didn't sound stupid. I spent forever practicing... You're still listening!? Forget you heard that! This is for you. I hope you like it. It took me a month to decide."

he's so so nervous about giving you your gift, but he makes himself give it to you

he gives you merch for your favorite game that you never thought you'd see in person

also gifts you in game currency for your favorite gacha game since he understands the grind

at the end of the day, he gives you a tight hug before running off, embarrassed

Satan

"Good morning, love. Happy birthday. If you're ready, shall we go out for breakfast? You are? Perfect. I have the day planned just to your liking."

he's got the entire day planned, including all your favorite things and romantic moments

each gift he gives is given at a specific time with a specific meaning

even organizes a trip to the human world so you can visit your family and friends

your day ends in his arms as he reads you a book

Asmo

"Happy birthday gorgeous! You look just amazing. Now, before you say anything, open this. Do you like it? Turn around so I can put it on you!"

totally takes you shopping! even goes as far as to rent out the entire store for you

photo shoot with all the fun new outfits you make

fancy dinner and a large party where you're the center of attention

of course, he pampers you at the end of the day with a nice bath and a massage

Beel

"Happy birthday, Mc. I wasn't really sure what to get you, so I hope you like it. There's a cake for you in the kitchen, but don't wait too long to eat it. I'm hungry."

thought very hard about what to get you, and ask around to get ideas

eventually, he decided to give you something small and offer to take you on a hike somewhere remote and beautiful

treats the day pretty much normal, until he reveals the cake that he made for you

it wasn't perfect, but it meant the world to you that he made it and didn't eat it

Belphie

"Ahh, happy birthday. Your first gift is in my room. What's with the surprise? Just because I sleep so much doesn't mean I'm forgetful."

secretly the best gift giver

he makes it so there's a surprise around each corner for you throughout your day

also gives you a beautiful handwritten letter

one of the few days he's actively awake the entire time

Diavolo

"Happy birthday, sunshine!! I know how much birthdays means to humans, so I went all out. Follow me to the first surprise!"

goes all out and makes the entire Devildom celebrate!

makes it a holiday and gives everyone the day off, so he has more time with you

except the biggest celebration you've ever had

researches into human birthday traditions and plans a cute party including a pinata

Barbatos

"Mc, happy birthday. May your day be filled with many joys. The cake I made for you should be just to your liking. I hope you'll enjoy it."

gives you a beautiful hand made card with his gorgeous calligraphy

treats you to a fancy tea party! super fancy with all your favorite sweets

cooks you your favorite food <3

also says the cutest things to you that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world

Simeon

"Hello! Happy birthday! Lucifer told me you were having a party at the House of Lamentation later. Expect to see me there, but I hope you don't mind if I steal you for now?"

most of his gifts are handmade!

expect a cake he made and help with all your daily tasks so you can get to fun sooner

wants to make sure your day is perfect and extra special

prepares you a cup of hot chocolate at the end of the day for enjoying with your favorite movie

Solomon

"Happy birthday, my apprentice. Now, I know this is a little late, but what do you want for your birthday besides my company? Any potion you want made or wish you want granted? Oh, I can do that. Consider it done, beautiful."

pretends like he forgot your birthday at first, but does a 180 and showers you with all sorts of things

gets you a brand new coat that looks suspiciously like his and when you call him out, he acts like he has no clue what you're talking about

takes you to dinner somewhere casual, but treats you like royalty

he pampers you that night and feeds you dessert <3

Luke

"Happy birthday Mc! Will you open my gift right now? I'm so excited! Do you like it? I blessed it myself so those yucky demons won't be able to steal it. Really? Yay!"

so excited to celebrate with you!

he makes all your favorite desserts, and gives you a lot of little things he gather over the year for you

practically attaches himself to your side all day

talks your ear off!! and wishes you happy birthday at least five times and reminds everyone else to as well

[etfrin]

❝ꜱᴏᴜʟꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ❞ — chapter twenty-one | coriolanus snow

「ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ:」 NSFW | canon typical violence, coriolanus snow, a lot of innocent people get murdered but there's no solid description! someone gets hanged as well | lmk if I forgot anything

「ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:」 young! Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

「ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:」 coriolanus snow sees district thirteen getting what it deserves and finds himself with a goal

「ᴀ/ɴ:」 i should be studying... But here ya go! Make sure to give me feedback, we're nearing the end soon!

Beta read by the sweetheart @nowitsmissing

masterlist | navigation

It was extremely early in the morning when every single Peacekeeper was called into the Peacekeeper base. There was a TV, it was surprisingly a big screen. Definitely from the Capitol. You were standing beside Commander Hoff and behind you were several Capitol officials.

“Today, we make history. Today we'll end the rebellion from its root,” Commander Hoffs’ voice echoes onto the hall.

Coriolanus raises his eyebrows, unsure of what exactly is happening. The confusion is jarring. You looked stoic, your face devoid of any emotions. You never looked so beautiful to him. You looked like power. Fuck.

Coriolanus diverts his eyes before his thoughts turn inappropriate. He looks at the screen and watches it come alive. A familiar face shows up. Lucky Flickerman. The first-ever host of the 10th annual Hunger Games.

Coriolanus furrows his eyebrows before he begins to connect the dots. This has something to do with district thirteen. Ending rebellion from its root? How is that possible? Unless…

District thirteen still exists and the Capitol has fed him lies about it from the beginning. Coriolanus wanted to feel bitter but instead, he felt relief because it meant you were doing something about it. You wouldn't let it go. And this was a gift for him, he realized. District thirteen was what ruined his family and now you're eradicating its existence from the face of Panem.

You were extraordinary.

“Today, district thirteen will cease to exist,” you announced to everyone standing.

And then, Flickerman begins to talk,

“Citizens of Panem, today the Capitol will make history yet again. From the dark age, we have learned not to repeat our mistakes. There won't be a war in Panem ever again, and this is a step towards that,”

He continues,

“Months ago, there was reported activity near the area of district thirteen since then the government has worked tirelessly to find out the truth. It has been revealed that district thirteen exists,” Coriolanus hears multiple gasps, and even Flickerman stops talking for a moment to let the shock settle in.

The man then goes on,

“But those lives there are not blameless. They live with the blood of beloved Capitol citizens on their hands. They have rebellion in their hearts and hence keep themselves a secret. But no more! Because of a special mission approved by the President and esteemed officials' dedication to keeping the Capitol safe,”

“We'll be seeing from our own eyes how the Capitol keeps us safe. We'll see from our own eyes why the Hunger Games is needed. Thank you.”

Coriolanus looks away from the screen and turns his eyes towards you. You were already looking at him and when his eyes caught yours, you smirked.

This was the secret.

This was the mission.

He could only hope that everything goes your way. The screen comes alive in a different scene. People in military gear with weapons of all kinds. Coriolanus' eyes widened, the Capitol would be broadcasting the slaughter of the district in front of their very eyes.

Not much different from the Hunger Games.

Coriolanus wonders why they do that- why broadcast it when you can keep it hidden? This shows Capitol can sometimes overlook some mistakes too. They found out about District thirteen accidentally after all. This is a shame for all of Panem for letting them exist for so long.

But he also thinks that it will reinforce the idea of the Hunger Games. It will make everybody think that violence, the punishment are necessary, or else another district thirteen will pop up again. And history might repeat itself.

Snow looks at the screen and hears the gunshot and the screams. They were murdering indiscriminately but the camera made sure only the armed forces of district thirteen came into view. Most of the soldiers there had extremely pale skin and red eyes. The way they were holding the gun, they were shaking.

All these would be missed by the blind eyes such as of the Capitol citizens but he knew every Peacekeeper and district citizens could notice it. They were sick, extremely so. It was a massacre happening disguised as something else entirely.

There was no fight at all despite what the Capitol wanted to make it seem like. District Thirteen was weak and soon a lot of people were captured, and those people would be tried for treason. Those people would die as well. There was no doubt about that.

He wondered briefly about what would happen to the kids they captured as well. He slightly shook his head, he let those thoughts get out of his head. Not his problem.

“District thirteen is ours now,” you were looking at him as you said that.

Ours.

Coriolanus liked it.

Coryo gives you a split-second smile. The rest of the people present watching the screen go blank. This moment was shared just between the two of you. The mission was a success.

A few seconds later, Commander Hoff speaks,

“To accommodate this victory, several rebels that were caught in District Twelve will be executed at noon . Everyone has to be present. Dismissed.”

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

At noon along with Sejanus, he was standing with his back facing the Hanging Tree. He looks through the faces of the people and tries to find you but fails. Maybe you were busy.

Coriolanus has another thought creep into his mind, but he doesn't let it settle. He was sure he would find you in your room when he got back.

He was stationed beside Sejanus. Every citizen present looked down, their shoulders hunched. Every instinct to fight leaves their body after seeing the latest horrors of the Capitol. It is how it should be.

Snow sees the rebels being dragged to their death. Commander Hoff speaks, loud and clear, “Watch all of you, this is what happens when you challenge the Capitols’ rule of law.”

“He's innocent!” A woman screams out, creating havoc in the crowd. “He's innocent!”

The rebel yells at her to run, and other people in the crowd try to make her stop speaking. The rebel was killed within a split second, his body now hanging. His screams are echoed by the mockingjays. It sends down a chill on his spine. His hatred for the bird increases.

Hoff commands the woman to be captured. Sejanus steps forward as if to stop them. Coriolanus holds him back, glad nobody noticed the moment of misconduct. “Don't,” he said, firmly. Sejanus has no choice but to listen.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧

Later, he is called into Commander Hoff's office. He was slightly annoyed because he still hadn't seen you since morning. But to his surprise, you were in Hoffs' office along with someone else.

“You have visitors, Mr. Snow,” is what Hoff said before walking away.

“What's this about?” He questions immediately. He looks at you for reassurance. Which you give him immediately.

“I promise it's nothing bad, Coryo.”

The man in the black suit begins to speak,

“I am Richard Heavensbee. I am here as the representative of the government.”

Then the talk happens. Both you and Coriolanus stay silent as the man, Richard, begins to explain why Coriolanus is here right now. Apparently in district thirteen several nuclear weapons belonging to the Snow family were found. The weapons for which the Snow had lost their fortune.

The weapons will be under the government's control as no one in his family is qualified to have the sort of military power. Coriolanus was at the bottom, after all, he should be happy for not having the responsibility. But he wasn't.

He sucks it up because Richard informs them that Coriolanus will receive sufficient compensation for ‘selling’ the weapon back to the government. It was nothing more than a formality. A formality that probably wouldn't have been done if it wasn't for you.

It wasn't enough money to pay for all of his university semesters but it would certainly pay for some. Even with the bills Snow's family already had. Tigris and grandma’am could have some small luxury with this amount. Thinking of that, Coriolanus signs the paper without a fuss.

“Can't I go back to the Capitol?” Coriolanus can't help but ask.

His question is answered with a simple shake of his head. “Your punishment isn't forgiven, I am afraid. There's nothing we can currently do about it without the appropriate permissions.” After that, the man walks out of the room leaving you and Snow behind.

“What he means is that you need to impress Dr. Gaul. And you have to do it real quick, Coryo,” you look into his eyes, your expression more serious than he ever saw, “Because I will be leaving in a few days and I don't know when I can come back.”

With that, even you walked out of the room before Coriolanus could confront you. Coriolanus looks at the empty office of Commander Hoff. He could see himself here in ten years or so if he remains a mere peacekeeper.

That's a future that he can't allow to come true.

NEXT PART

[talesofesther]

tangle me in all your broken pieces (and watch me stay) | ch 3

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: An Asgardian god has just threatened your planet and you were called in to provide a little help. What you didn't expect was to develop a strange soft spot for said god, who hid more pain behind his cold facade than you thought possible.

A/N: This story is already occupying a very special place in my heart.

Word count: 4,2k

Masterlist | Read ch 2 here

You arrived at Stark Tower a little before noon. The quinjet landed on top of the building and you were once again relieved to be stepping out of it. The ride back had somehow been even worse than the one before, as there was a heavy shadow looming in the air.

Loki had been quiet since he'd stepped back in the jet after the meeting with Odin, his eyes always downcast, fixed on his cuffed hands. You couldn't blame him—even though it felt foreign to see him so… broken, compared to the confident god you first saw being escorted to his cage a couple of days ago—you could only imagine how bare he must be feeling without his powers.

You walked out of the jet and followed Tony inside the top floor of his tower, trying to ignore the weight of a certain stare on your back. Sometimes you forgot just how much money Tony had, being here was a good reminder. Floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked all of New York allowed the sunlight to shine on the plush, velvety burgundy couches, the marble walls, the exaggerated chandelier, and the fancy built-in bar. You certainly won't mind living here, it was quite a step up from your humble apartment.

"I'll arrange for someone to go pick up your stuff from your apartment," Tony spoke, glancing at you over his shoulder, "do you want to go with or wait here?"

"I can wait here," you shrugged, "As long as they bring all my clothes, my laptop, and my cat."

Tony stopped in his tracks and waited for you to reach his side. He narrowed his eyes, "So we're having an actual cat too?"

You opened and closed your mouth, "Uh- I can't leave her alone in my apartment for so long, Tony."

The billionaire hummed halfheartedly, resuming his path toward the elevator at the far end of the room. "No scratch marks on my furniture, please."

"Me and Thor will have to hang back for now," Fury called, walking up to the built-in bar and pouring himself a drink, "I assume you have it handled from here?" He raised an eyebrow at both you and Tony.

"Yes, darling," Tony answered with a smile and pressed the button for the elevator. He whistled and gestured with a hand for Loki, "Come on, reindeer games, you're with us."

Thor let go of where he had been holding Loki by the arm, "I'll see you later, brother." Not waiting for an answer, he threw a smile your way and joined Fury, already asking about the drink in the director's hand.

Loki approached you with staggered steps, huffing out a sigh when he stopped beside you. He still had those same traces of anger lingering on his features; lips drawn into a line, eyes just a tad narrowed, shoulders tense.

The elevator arrived with a ding and you, Tony, and Loki stepped in; with Loki in the middle.

Your hands were clammy, you brushed them on your black jeans to try and chase the feeling away. You didn't know why you were so nervous, this had been your idea, after all. Maybe it was because you could feel all that tension flowing off of Loki—with him standing so close to you, his shoulder mere inches away from touching yours.

The ride down a few floors was agonizingly slow, with only the low humming of the elevator as it moved.

You cleared your throat and broke the uncomfortable silence. "Tony," you called, leaning just a tad forward so you could see him past Loki. You showed him your wrist and wiggled it, raising your eyebrows pointedly.

A deep frown etched itself into Tony's features until his eyes lit up when he understood what you meant. "Oh, right." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a thin, black bracelet with an even thinner strip of soft green light around it. "Because we are civilized," he began, turning to Loki. "I took the liberty of making you this." He raised the bracelet in front of the god, who looked wholly unimpressed.

Unceremoniously, Tony reached for one of Loki's wrists and clasped the bracelet on him. It closed comfortably yet forcefully, it wasn't coming off anytime soon. Once it was secured, he finally removed the uncomfortable handcuffs Loki was still wearing.

A grimace appeared on Loki's face, he rubbed his wrists as soon as they were free. You winced as you caught sight of the reddish skin from where the cuffs had been pressuring. He then turned the single wrist that now styled the new device, observing it closely with a small frown.

Loki chuckled; "You can't expect this little thing to keep me here."

"I can, actually," Tony explained, gesturing to Loki's bracelet, "This little thing has a tracker and if you try to leave this tower when you're not supposed to, or try to take it off, we will know pretty much immediately." His smile was proud and just a tad mocking.

A scoff went past Loki's lips. "Lovely," he mumbled.

"I would really like it if you did try to escape, by the way," Tony suggested, rather animatedly, "Gives me an excuse to test my new security system." There was a sly smirk on his lips, he shrugged, "You'd probably survive."

"Tony! Come on," you groaned, shooting him a glare.

The billionaire rolled his eyes; "I'm kidding, relax."

The elevator finally arrived at what would be your new home. A whole floor exclusively for you and Loki—it had been your request, you figured it would be more peaceful this way and you knew Tony had the means and space to make it happen. As the doors slid open the first thing you noticed was the living room, it was big, spacious, and had a massive burgundy couch with a huge TV in front of it; on one side of the living room was your own set of floor-to-ceiling windows along with the double doors that led to the balcony, on the other side was the kitchen, an open concept adjacent to the living room; further into the room were two doors, one beside the other, which you assumed were the bedrooms. Everything had a beautiful modern look and exuded luxury, the least you'd expect from something Tony built.

"Right, I'm dropping you two off here and heading down to the lab," Tony clasped his hands together, then turned to you; "Your room is the one on the right, I'll ask them to drop your things there."

You opened your mouth to speak, but Tony beat you to it; "And the cat, yes."

You stepped out of the elevator and a moment later Loki begrudgingly followed. The god didn't wait for you or spared Tony another glance before walking into the living room, taking in the place, his fingers tracing the velvet of the couch as he looked around.

"Thank you, Tony." You watched Loki for a beat longer before turning back to your friend. "Truly." You smiled softly.

A sigh escaped Tony's lips, his eyes darting to Loki, "Hope he's worth all this drama." Settling his attention back on you, he raised a finger, taking on a serious tone, "If you need anything, if he does anything, you call me, understand?"

"Yes," you reassured him, burying your hands in the pockets of your cardigan. "I will, don't worry."

With that, Tony bid you goodbye for now, and you were left alone with Loki. A soft breeze came in through the open windows, sending a shiver down your spine. Everything had happened so fast, one moment Fury was dragging you out of your apartment to help stop a god who wanted to rule over your planet, and now here you were, being roommates with said god. A quiet chuckle fell past your lips. What are the odds?

"You have a strange kind of courage."

Loki's voice rang through the quiet room, capturing your attention and urging you to turn around and face him. Once you locked eyes, you raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking that he elaborate.

"Or should I say… stupidity," A devilish smirk came to Loki's features, and he took slow and calculated steps toward you. "Locking yourself here, alone, with me." His voice grew huskier, lower. His bright eyes roamed up and down your body, until he was close enough that you could nearly feel his breath on your lips. "Oh, the things I could do to you," he whispered, the daunting tilt of his lips ever-present.

You held the silence for a moment longer, doing your best not to avoid his gaze. You knew what he was trying to do; he wanted to intimidate you, make you feel vulnerable and small. Just as he was feeling right now.

"Aren't we past the bluffing already?" You mimicked his smirk. You could tell he was caught by surprise when his eyebrows knitted together in a confused frown. A quiet laugh escaped you and you rolled your eyes. "Come on, let's go see your room." You didn't wait for an answer before walking around him and towards the two doors at the back.

You turned the door handle that led to what would be Loki's bedroom. It was pretty simple and bare, still. There was a double bed against the wall, a dresser, a desk in front of huge double windows, two bedside tables on each side of the bed with a lamp on one of them, a bookcase without any books, and another door that you assumed led to a bathroom.

"It's cozy," you mused, "Give it a little personal touch it'll soon feel like home, right?" You turned to look at Loki, who had made his way to you and was analyzing the room with narrowed eyes.

Instead of entertaining your attempt at banter, he said instead; "you don't want to challenge me, mortal."

You threw your hands in the air, "Oh my god, when did I ever challenge you?" You asked exasperatedly, losing the remains of patience you had. "Is this all you know how to do? Threaten the people who want to help you?"

"Help me?" Loki all but growled, "Because of you I'm stranded on this pathetic planet, and my magic has been taken from me." He spat the words with clenched fists, towering over you, "Don't think for one minute that I've forgotten how you've messed with my mind, just wait until I've-"

"Because of me you are not rotting in a dungeon forever," you raised your voice to match his tone, shoving a finger at his chest, "Because of me you're free from the people who fucking tortured you."

Loki blinked multiple times as soon as the words left your mouth, almost as if you'd slapped him. His lips hovered open yet he didn't speak.

You softened when you caught the flash of hurt in his eyes as the memories undoubtedly came back to the surface. You closed your eyes, breathed in, and opened them again. "Believe it or not, I actually meant it when I said I only wanted to help you."

A half-hearted scoff went past his lips and he shook his head. "And why would you ever do that? Surely not from the goodness of your heart." For the first time, his voice held something other than anger, you just couldn't pinpoint what it was. "What is it that you're after?"

You shrugged as a melancholic smile graced your lips. It was rather sad that Loki couldn't fathom the thought of help coming without a price. "I don't know, maybe I'm just that stupid, right?" You stepped out of his bedroom, holding the door handle, "I'll be outside if you need me." With that you closed the door, leaving Loki alone in his room.

For several moments he simply stood there, eyes fixed on the plain wood of the door. Then a shaky breath went past his lips, and his shoulders sagged; all anger washed away, leaving room only for sorrow. Slowly, reality finally started to down on him. Loki turned around in the spot, gaze roaming over his new chambers. From out the window, he could see the never-sleeping city of New York, the world he once wished to take over; it felt like so long ago already, a far-fetched attempt at filling the gaping hole left in his chest from empty promises.

A sharp sting of pain suddenly pierced his back, going down his spine as he stretched. He winced, rubbing the sore spot. Telltales of his captor, the one you'd freed his mind from.

You. Why would you do what you did? What could you possibly gain by trying to help him?

You confused him, a mystery ever since Loki first laid eyes on you, one he was yet to uncover. The fact that you had been able to pry into his mind so easily, see glimpses of his misfortunes, made him feel uneasy. And from all the things he assumes you could've done, you chose to cut The Other's hold of him, and nothing more.

Loki would never admit to the relief it had been, almost as if plucking out an arrow that had been piercing his skin and making him bleed. He refrained from dwelling on the matter for now, especially if you'd insist that you wanted nothing from him—unlikely.

He took one step forward, and then another, and one more. And his vision grew blurry. He opened his mouth only for a choked sob to stumble out. He'd never felt this bare, this defenseless, this vulnerable.

Loki raised his hands, fingers trembling. He tried to bring all his energy to his fingertips, gritting his teeth as his tears fell past the bottom lid of his eyes and dropped to the floor beneath his feet. Nothing. Not even a single spark of green.

Loki's knees hit the floor. He brought his arms around himself. His whole life, living amongst kings and warriors, his seiðr was all he had. And now, he doesn't know who he is without it.

He wanted to blame you. He so desperately wanted to lay the blame on you for losing his powers, for his exile on earth. Alas, it was a weak attempt. A lie that would do him no good in the end.

Several minutes went by with Loki kneeling on the floor of his bedroom, fading into the background like many times before. And like many times before, he eventually picked himself back up, drying his own tears with the back of his sleeve, and taking deep breaths to calm his bruised heart.

Loki made a beeline for the bathroom, maybe a warm shower would do him some good.

─── ·❆· ───

You were sitting on the kitchen counter when Loki finally left his bedroom again. Tony had already gotten Happy to bring most of your things from your apartment, your cat included. The fluffy ball of grey fur lay beside you as your fingers mindlessly scratched behind her ears, making her purr contently.

The sound of a door closing made you look up from your cell phone. Loki approached you as if he were a stray cat seeing a human for the first time—you briefly wondered just how long it would take him to feel comfortable here. His hair was damp, falling just a little past his shoulders in shiny raven curls; he still wore the same clothes from before and you made a mental note to ask that Tony arrange more clothes for him.

"Hey," you greeted gently with a small smile, "Did you calm down?"

Loki gave you an unamused glare before averting his gaze to the windows on the other side. "No," he mumbled just for the sake of it.

"I'm ordering a bit of a late lunch," you wiggled your phone even though he wasn't looking at you, "Would you like something?"

Slowly, Loki's eyes trailed back to you. He said nothing as he momentarily held your gaze, before focusing on the cat laying beside you. A rather adorable frown came to his features then.

You noticed. "Loki, this is Rain," you introduced, gesturing to the cat. "Rain, that's Loki," then gestured to the god, "He's gonna be our new roomie."

"That's a strange name for a cat," Loki commented, taking half a step closer to you.

You simply shrugged, "It was raining pretty hard the day I found her on the street, it seemed fitting." A beat of silence passed. "You… can pet her if you want, she's friendly," you suggested timidly, pursing your lips as you looked at him.

Loki's eyes shot back to your face, his stern gaze returning. "No."

You sighed and pushed yourself off the counter, much to Rain's dismay, "Okay, listen, whether you like it or not, this is gonna be your life for the foreseeable future, yeah?" You kept your voice as gentle as you could, "So can we try not to make each day feel more miserable than the last? I mean, you have to admit that this is better than whatever dungeon they were going to throw you in." With a tentative smile, you gestured widely to the whole floor that now belonged to both of you.

Loki kept silent, his jaw set tightly in place.

At last, you admitted defeat and accepted the fact that chit-chat would not be a thing. You groaned; "Just- do you want lunch or not?"

"Of course I want lunch," Loki snapped, "I haven't eaten in nearly two days."

Immediately, your eyes went wide with shock, "You haven't-" You hesitated, "What do you mean you haven't eaten in two days? Didn't they feed you back at the Helicarrier?"

It was a fraction of a second, but you thought you saw Loki's gaze softening at your concern. "Why would they bother?" He simply asked.

You gulped, trying to conceal how this made you feel. "No wonder you're so grumpy," you mumbled in an attempt to lighten the mood. "What would you like, then?"

You quickly discovered that Loki was worse at deciding what to eat than you were. For today you settled for pizza, not exactly healthy, but simple and tasty enough. When it arrived, Loki took his slices and promptly locked himself back in his room. Living with him certainly would be an experience; taking him out to connect with your world, that would be a challenge.

─── ·❆· ───

It almost felt like floating. For a moment, he was almost at peace as he fell, and fell, and fell. And then he was alone, wandering through uncharted, hostile lands. Each day was a battle just to keep breathing, to keep walking. His body was weak and giving up on him when he was found, and then, his voice started fading with each of the screams that no one cared to listen to. His skin burned, ripped open, and healed. Only to go through it again, and again. Until all fight was snuffed out of him.

"You will long for something as sweet as pain."

Loki woke up with a start, sitting up on his bed so quickly that a thousand stars danced in his vision. His breathing came out in desperate huffs of air, making his lungs sting and not nearly enough to calm his thundering heart.

He looked around frantically, feeling his lower lip wobble and his cheeks dampening when he didn't recognize his surroundings immediately. Clutching the sheets to ground himself, Loki closed his eyes and did the breathing exercise he taught himself. Slowly, the fog cleared, yet only a little. And when he opened his eyes again, he remembered why he was in this bedroom.

With a long sigh going past his lips, Loki buried his head in his hands, nails clawing at the root of his hair. He could feel his clothes clinging to his body because of the cold sweat.

He couldn't stay here. He needed to get out.

The floor felt cold against his bare feet, it grounded him to reality. Gulping down a lump in his throat, Loki took staggered steps to his door, reaching the handle with an unsteady hand.

They couldn't keep him here forever, they couldn't expect a damn fancy bracelet to keep him from leaving. He'd break it, cut it off if he had to.

The walls around him were suffocating, closing in on him as he stumbled into the living room. It was so dark, nothing but a void of pitch black with even darker shadows shaping the outlines of the furniture around him. Who was to say no harm would reach him here?

A pathetic whimper fell past his lips, tears clouded his vision. He had to get out. He had to escape. He had to-

"Are you okay?"

Loki halted in his steps. His hand gripping tightly onto the back of the couch.

Quiet. The night suddenly became so quiet. The walls were far away now, he realized. There was a cold breeze coming in through the open doors of the balcony, and a single dim orange light coming from the kitchen beside him, chasing away the darkness. Loki could breathe again.

He took several deep breaths and felt the relief in his lungs. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the right, to where the soft light and the sweet voice came from.

You were standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding a steamy mug between both your hands and looking at him with eyes just a tad too wide. You were dressed in a purple hoodie with black sweatpants. This was the first time Loki had seen you wearing anything that wasn't black, he noted.

A small frown came to your features and you took a single step closer, "Is everything okay?" You repeated when he didn't answer you.

"Yes," Loki mumbled, pointedly avoiding your eyes. "Just needed a bit of air."

You nodded in understanding, taking a small sip of your tea. If you felt the troubles inside his mind, you didn't show it.

It was… strange, how your voice was able to pull him from the depths of his own mind. Loki forced himself not to dwell too much on it. You had successfully distracted him, that's all.

He straightened his posture, feeling a little self-conscious for being witnessed in such a state. "Don't you sleep?" He raised a brow at you, praying you wouldn't notice the rawness of his voice.

You tapped your mug. Your gaze on him was unwavering, almost as if you could see into his very soul. Loki shifted his stance; not for the first time, he felt way too bare before you.

"I could ask the same of you." You walked closer, and then past him, heading towards the balcony.

Loki followed. Thoughts of escaping long forgotten. You intrigued him.

The air outside was colder than the floor beneath his feet. From this high up in the tower, the wind was almost howling. New York looked like nothing but a sea of blinking lights.

You leaned on the railing, mug in hand as you looked down at the city. Loki approached slowly, warily, until he stood beside you.

"Sometimes, even if I don't want to, I can feel… whispers of people's feelings," you continued, voice quiet amidst the wind. "The nights are calmer," You closed your eyes, breathing in deeply, "Quieter. Sometimes I like to enjoy the silence."

For a long moment, Loki said nothing. He blinked lazily as he mulled over your words. He'd be lying if he said your abilities didn't fascinate him. And then, he remembered, and his breathing stumbled again.

He had to know.

"How-" Loki hesitated. He focused down on his hand, on the faint scars on the back of it. "How did you know?" It was nothing but a breath, as if he didn't have the guts to speak louder tonight.

You turned to him, cocking your head to the side.

Loki pursed his lips. "How did you know… My mind was…" He cursed under his breath when the words got stuck and tangled in his tongue.

"I felt it." You told him simply, your voice as soft as satin. "When they first brought you in, I- I felt this… heaviness, like something wasn't quite right…"

Loki chanced a single glance towards you, only to find your eyes already focused on him. They were shining under the moonlight, "Like it was hurting you."

You spoke as if it was a secret, one you weren't sure was yours to keep.

Loki sneered. He avoided your gaze promptly, knuckles turning white with the force he gripped onto the railings.

"You're ridiculous," the words fell past Loki's lips before he could stop them. They were all he had to protect himself. "Why would you ever go against your peers to help someone like me? When I've threatened your life and killed your kind?" Yet now, he didn't know if he was saying them to mock you, or to punish himself.

"I don't believe you're truly bad," You confessed without an ounce of doubt or anger, voice steady and gentle as the cold wind.

Loki's gaze found yours again, and he couldn't recall if anyone had ever looked at him the way that you do.

Your smile didn't hold happiness; "You have sad eyes."

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Ch 4 coming soon.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

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[megumisgirl]

too hot. a game where the two players kiss without stopping and touching each other. if one player touches the other, s/he loses. the winner gets to do whatever they want with the loser.

megumi x fem!reader

on a regular day, you wouldn't indulge in stupid games with your best friend-- megumi. specially at a party. you were a sloppy(-horny-)drunk, and you kept the horny to yourself.

"come on, y/n!" yuuji whined, dragging you as megumi stood behind you. you turned to look at him with a pleading look so he'd help you with yuuji. but he just looked away.

as much as megumi hated you being drunk, he kind of secretly loved it. how you would bat your eyelashes at him, how touchy you would get, kissing his jaw, going lower and lower till he has to forcefully stop you. the only thing he hated was how you forgot everything the next day because of your bad tolerance.

"megumi! tell him i can't!" you whined, yuuji wheezed, dragging you in the private room. nobara, maki, inumaki, yuuta sat in a circle, waiting for the three of you. "guys!" you whined.

"there they are!" nobara said, angrily. " 'bout time!" you groaned as yuuji pushed you. you sat down beside nobara as megumi sat opposite you. you smiled at him sarcastically as he smiled back at you.

"we have an exam tomorrow!" you whined, the group boo-ed as you raised your hand up, signalling peace. nobara put the bottle in the middle and leaned back.

"so, we're playing too hot. whoever the two people lands on, must kiss untill one of them breaks it, or touches the other. winner does whatever the fuck they want with the loser." nobara smirked, "and i mean... whatever."

naturally, your eyes went to the raven haired man in front of you. his eyes were already focused on you. his blue eyes now almost seeming black, with lust, greed and hope. you took in a breath, blinking, hoping you imagined that. his eyes, however, stayed focus on you. how you squirmed under his gaze, your nervousness as the bottle spinned. you watched yuuji and inumaki kiss awkwardly and inumaki telling gojo to flash his abs at the new freshmen students as punishments. you were actually having fun.

as everyone settled down again, the bottle spun. your heart beating inside your ears as the bottle stopped. shit. everyone "ooh"ed as you looked up to see megumi. the boy's cheek crimsoned as maki nobara nudged at you.

"kiss!" she cheered. you looked at her with wide eyes before you looked at megumi again.

"he's my best friend!" you protested. megumi's heart cracked everytime you said something like that. he's just a friend. you're my best friend, megs. but when you were drunk, you'd just blabble the truth. you're so kissable. i wish you would let me kiss you more often. can you rail me, please? he knew you never really meant that, but you did. drunk words are sober thoughts.

"tuna mayo." inumaki said.

"yeah! he had to do what he was said, we even kissed!" yuuji groaned, "you have to as well!" he pulled you towards the center as inumaki pushed megumi to the middle. "inumaki's breath smelled like swiss cheese." he mumbled.

"mayo."

"NO I DID NOT LIKE IT!" yuuji screamed. you looked at megumi who didn't say a single word since you two arrived. you breathed as you brought yourself closer to him.

your lips hoovering over his before he inisiated the kiss. nobara from behind brought your hands to your back, saying something. but the sounds stopped. everything stopped when your lips crashed with his. his tounge swirled over yours as you bit back a moan. moaning in front of everyone while you kissed your best friend would've been an embarassment you couldn't live with.

unconciously, your hands went to his hair, pulling him close as the buzzer rang in your ears. "y/n loses!" yuuji grinned widely, winking at megumi. "fushiguro! you're the winner, what's her punishment?" his blue eyes went to yours before you blushed brightly. your mind still processing the kiss that happened.

"i'll take it from here." megumi said, standing up as he dragged you with him. your eyes wide as the other "ew"ed at you. he dragged you through the various rooms, till he found a good one. he opened the door, pushing you inside before he locked it. your back was still turned to him while your mind ran scenarios of what could happen right now.

you turned out to face the raven haired boy. he just looked at you, savouring every inch of what he was going to destroy. his hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning yours. "not drunk.." he mumbled, taking your hands as he checked your pulse, "not drugged." his eyes went back to yours, but you stared at the two of your hands connected. his large hands practically absorbed yours.

you looked up at him when his hands slowly went higher, caressing you in the slighest way. "megumi..." you breathed out, "what are you doing?" you asked. he didn't answer right way, his hands snaked to your neck, and then the back of his hands caressed your cheek before you leaned in his touch. closing your eyes, letting the dim purple light beam through your eyes.

"what i should've done years ago." he said, before pulling you by your neck and crashing his lips into yours. you moaned at his rough movement before you moaned in his mouth before he guided you to the bed. you slammed on your back before you pulled your sweatpants down. you didn't a chance to breathe before his lips was on yours again.

"megumi..." you moaned as his lips nibbled at your neck, your jaw, your earlobes. his hands roamed around your body, pinching, rubbing and caressing every bit of free skin he could find. his hands went inside your hoodie, pinching your nipple. "ah!" you moaned in his mouth. he groaned as your hands went to his buldge, palming it over his sweatpants.

with one swift movement he took of your skirt, leaving you only in his hoodie and your panties. he pushed you into the bed, the matress sinking as he lowered himself right in front of your pretty cunt. his long slender fingers rubbed you over your panties, you bit your lips, trying to calm the moans that were in your throat. the loud chase atlantic music coming from outside, the loud thumps making your heartbeat faster than it already was.

pushing your panties aside, he ran his fingers through your slick folds. you whimpered, your legs spreading unconciously. he looked up to see your face, head thrown back, hair sticking to your face from the sweat, your face red and mouth slight agape. you felt his gaze as you lowered your head. your eyes hazy and vision blurry.

he pulled your panties and threw it somewhere with your skirt on the floor. wrapping his arms around your thick thighs he yanked you closer to him. you yelped at the sensation. his tounge flickered over your bud, licking, kissing, sucking. doing anything to make you feel good.

you arched your back, pushing yourself further into his mouth as you felt your orgasm near but he stopped. you panted as you opened your eyes, your mascara smudged from the tears and your lipstick anywhere but on your lips. "this is a punishment, remember?" he smirked, you whined. a sharp slap to your pussy. you jerked up from the sensitivity, tears welling in your eyes as you moaned as he rubbed your cunt. "good girls don't whine, y/n. they take their punishments, and get rewards..." he lowered himself to your ears, kissing your cheek as he whispered, "do you want your reward, y/n?"

you never saw megumi like this. truth be told, you barely acknowledged that he might have feelings for you. but seeing him like this made the knot in your stomach tighten, "yes." you said, breathlessly, almost panting.

he sent you a mocking smile before he got up again. his hands running through your hair, letting your bun fall loose. he kissed the top of your nose as he pushed your hoodie upwards and your bra downwards. his thumbs gazed over your peaked nipples as you shuddered at his touch.

he kissed your nipple. rolling his tounge over your bud as he gently grazed his teeth over it. you turned your head to your side, trying to stiffle the moans but he roughly turned your head to him. his hands still wet from your slick, "i want to hear you, okay? dont be quite."

he made it impossible for you to be quiet. his fingers went in and out of you, knuckles deep, at such a fast pace, you felt your entire body shake. and just as you were going to come, he would stop. making even more tears fall from your eyes. the sound of your sobs and his fingers squelching in and out of you filled the room.

"megumi please..." you sobbed in a shaky breath, he laughed, taking his shirt off, his perfect tonned and tanned abs in display for you. "please let me come." you cried, he ran a thumb over your tears and brought it to his lips, licking your tears as you inhaled shakily.

"aww... you wanna come?" he taunted, you snuffled, nodding your head. "fine, butterfly." he cooed, running his hands through your hair as he pushed his sweatpants down with his free hand. "i'll let you come this time, hmm?"

he tapped the tip of his swollen dick to your pussy, making you jerk up again. a soft smile placed on his lips as he kissed you sloopily. his dick slipping inside you perfectly because of how wet you were. he thursted all nine inches of him side, you arched your back, feeling him up your throat as you shook your head.

"too full, too full, too full!" you mumbled, curling your toes as you felt your orgasm near.

he brought his face closer to yours whispering praises as you cried at his girth, "doing so well, butterfly." he kissed your cheek, leaning back to see his cock slide perfectly in and out of your pussy. a ring of arousal coating each thurst. he started going harder, rougher, deeper, "so tight.." he mumbled, grabbing your leg and throwing it over his shoulder.

he used his free hand to rub circles around your swollen clit. thats all you needed to come all over him. hot liquid gushed all over his thighs, your leg and the sheets. he smiled cockily, "i made ya' squirt?" he chuckled, drool slipped from your mouth as he flipped you over, so you'd be over on your stomach.

he pushed you down and arched your back just the right way before he entered you again. you screamed as he hit your g-spot. the second orgasm almost coming minutes later. he wrapped your loose hair around his fists and pulled you up. saliva dripping from your open mouth, tears streaming down your face. a smirk formed on his lips, "have i fucked you dumb, y/n?" he chuckled.

you cleched at his words, squeezing his dick as he lets go of your hair. your head thumping into the pillows as he thursted into you sloopily. bruises started to show on your hips as he gripped you tightly.

you gushed out all over him again, triggering his come to squirt all over your thighs, your stomach and your boobs. he panted on top of you, both of your breathing getting lost into the music.

"i should come to parties more often." you joked, he chuckled, still panting as he laid a soft kiss into your mouth.

"yeah, you should."

[filmbyjy]

‘kissing them just to see their reaction’

pairing: enhypen x fem!reader

summary: you and the boys are best friends and well, you wanted to see how kissing them would go.

warning: on jake’s part it’s a little suggestive so umm proceed with caution.

NOTE: saurr i’ve opened up my request box so feel free to request any headcannons or even imagines!

lee heeseung

side note: he looks small here😭😭

you and heeseung were hanging out peacefully in your living room. he was busy trying to beat the shit out of people in ‘call of duty’ so you were just left there scrolling on your phone. then a certain video comes on your ‘for you’ page.

the video was about two best friends and the girl best friend kissed the guy best friend to see his reaction. you fell into that pit of watching a lot of similar ones and so you looked up from your phone to peak up at heeseung.

he was busy furiously clicking on the buttons of the controller. you weren’t stupid, you knew your best friend was hot. he was every quality every girl wanted in a man and that included you. however, you knew heeseung didn’t like you that way. especially not when he didn’t show any signs of possibly liking you as more than a friend.

which is why you never made an effort to woo him but something tells you maybe you should give this challenge a try. you wanted to see how he’d react. besides, it can only go two ways. knowing heeseung, he’d either kiss you back or possibly sit there looking shocked with his widened bambi eyes before he shyly stutters and asks why you kissed him before admitting he doesn’t like you that way.

you hoped for the latter because although seeing the boy adorably get flustered, you weren’t ready to get rejected. taking this risk meant you’d be crossing a line between being more than friends. you sighed. heeseung takes notice, he pauses the game and turns to you.

“hey, what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

he nods before walking over to where you sat, “but I also know that if you say nothing then something is wrong. tell me what’s in that amazing mind of yours?”

“well…”

should you take the risk? you looked straight into heeseung’s eyes. he tilts his head waiting for you to say what you wanted. which you don’t because you just went for it and gave him a peck on the lips. he did his bambi eyes just like you predicted. is he going to reject you? you can’t look at this, you stared down at your hand and nervously played with it.

“sorry, i shouldn’t have done that. i just saw a tiktok about two best friends kissing and i just wanted to see your reaction. i crossed the line, didn’t I?”

what you didn’t expect was for heeseung to place a finger under your chin and tilt your head up. he places a delicate kiss on your lips, it was short and sweet.

“i’ve always wanted to do that.” heeseung whispers once he pulls away.

“you did?”

“i’ve had a crush on you for a while now but I was scared you didn’t like me in that way.”

“heeseung. we are both idiots.” he places his forehead against yours and shuts his eyes. you shut your eyes too to bask in each other’s embrace.

“yeah, we are.”

park jongseong

a/n: let me introduce you to some new thangs. get it cause ‘kick it’. ehem I’ll see myself out.

bless your soul, you have no idea how you managed to even be friends with this greek god of a man. who did you save in your past life to even get such treatment?

okay but enough with that. it was the start of the world tour period and so you decided to travel to Seoul to watch his concert. both you and jay had been childhood friends before he moved to Seoul to pursue his dreams of becoming an idol. it was sad because you missed him a lot. however, you realised would jay even remember you? what if he forgot about you?

you didn't have much thought as you were already on the way to the concert. you had special access as jay's mom had requested it when bang pd had invited them. you realised that it had been 11 years since you've last seen him. what was surprising was that he pulled you into a hug backstage when you joined his parents.

"i missed you." he muttered. you felt your heart race.

since you had a term break for your university, you decided to spend it in seoul for a few days. hence, you were staying with jay's parents for a short while before you flew back to seattle. so far they treated you with so much care and you felt loved. the next day after the concert, jay had gone over to his parent's house. it was his day off before he had to go on tour so he wanted to spend it with you.

"brought some snacks." jay holds up a plastic bag full of snacks. you smiled. he lets himself in and shuts the door behind. the both of you falling into a deep conversation whilst catching up with each other. jay kept rambling about i-land, about the boys, about the idol life etc.

it came to the point where you really wanted to see what would happen if you just possibly kiss him to see how he would react. which you stupidly did so. just one tiny peck on the lips. jay stops talking. his eyes were widened, his jaw dropped at how shocked he was.

“umm continue.” you say shyly. you were already blushing hard, your ears turning even more red by the second. jay gets over the initial shock, a smirk plastered onto his lips (which was hiding how much he was flustered)

“you like me don’t you?” jay teases.

“jay, can we not talk about it?”

“why not? didn’t like kissing me at all?” he pouts.

“jay, please. drop this subject, I’ve already embarrassed myself enough. moreover, I don’t expect you to like me back so-”

“who said I didn’t like you back?” jay says.

“huh?” jay didn’t say much because the next thing he does was pull you into a loving kiss.

sim jaeyun

note: jake is not an idol here, just a normal aussie boy :)

it was a hot day, jake invited you to go swimming since he had a swimming pool in his backyard.

“you can change in my bedroom, I’ll change in the bathroom since I need to take off my, you know, underwear.”

“YOU GO SWIMMING WITHOUT YOUR UNDERWEAR???” you gasp.

“(name), the swimming trunks have an underwear inside. why would I wear another underwear over it. it’s uncomfortable.” (he was lying there was no underwear in those swim trunks, he went commando and is a free man)

“well, how am I supposed to know there was already an underwear inside. i’m not a guy.”

“yeah, I know. you walk around in your scandalous bikini set.”

“ITS NOT SCANDALOUS, JAEYUN.”

10 minutes later, both you and jake were in the pool. swimming around and enjoying the cool water. until jake decided to go full on wwe on you and tried to tackle you.

“jaeyun!” you fell straight into the water. you yelled whilst swiping the water away from your eyes. jake laughs but pauses when he looks back at you. yup, he thought you were hot.

you walked closer to him and pointed a finger right on his bare chest. jake didn’t even comprehend the words you were muttering out, he knew you were lecturing him about tackling you in the pool. his hands suddenly wrapped around your waist. you gasped a little. it went silent between the both of you.

and that’s when your eyes flickered down onto his plump lips. how you’ve always dreamt of kissing them but you always thought your friendship was simply platonic. clearly it wasn’t because who would think of kissing their guy best friend.

you went for it and kissed him first. before he could even make the first move but then you realised…did he even want to kiss you? you pulled away after the short kiss and covered your mouth.

“I shouldn’t have done that. I am so sorry, jake.”

jake doesn’t say anything further before he pulls you back into another kiss, that conveyed his true feelings for you.

(ONE CHANCE JAEYUN🧎🏻‍♀️)

park sunghoon

you and sunghoon were like sort of friends. the only way you befriended him was through jake. however, the only time you ever chatted with fine sculpted boy was when jake was around.

other times, you would not be caught talking to him. you preferred to keep your mouth shut. reason being, you were afraid of fooling yourself in front of him. there was no way of denying that sunghoon was attractive. moreover, he was your type. shy, introverted and has an adorable toothy smile.

you would rather just keep your mouth shut than to make a fool out of yourself. sunghoon too thought the same. he thought you looked pretty, he felt like you and him were meant to be. okay, maybe it was just because he fell in love at first sight but he will never admit it. anyways, today, you, jake and sunghoon were hanging out at jay’s house.

they wanted to play games jay’s newly bought console. courtesy of mr.park since he loved his son dearly. jay and jake were busy tapping at the controllers, screaming their heads off while you and sunghoon either watched them or were busy scrolling on your phones.

“hey, wanna play you two? we played too long, our hands are cramping up.” jay asks. you didn’t fancy playing video games but you wanted to try it so you took the controller and sat where jay previously sat. jake smirks.

“let’s make a deal.” jake suggests.

“what? no. i’m playing for fun, I’ve never played this before.”

“exactly, you get handicap benefits. sunghoon can also help you if you’d like.” jake winks. you turned to look back at sunghoon. he was sending glares at the boy beside you. when his eyes with yours, it softens.

“umm, if you want help. I can help.” he says.

“then can you help me?” you shyly asked.

“sure.”

“alright then, since you have sunghoon’s help. I’ll make the challenge harder. you have to kill the boss. like the top boss of this level.”

“bro, this level is hard though.” jay says.

“yeah I know but sunghoon said he beat this level before so it will be easier for (name) with his help.” jake explains.

“alright then. deal, sim jaeyun.” sunghoon says.

and so the game begins. jake plays the level but dies like 20 seconds later. he groans.

“alright your turn (name).” jake says.

it was your turn, sunghoon tries instructs you to do things. surprisingly, you were so far doing well. when there was a part you couldn’t do or figure out. sunghoon sat behind you and grabbed the controller to move your character around.

the boss level arrives and you were panicking while trying to defeat it. you yelled cusses while trying to beat it. sunghoon helps you through it and when it ends when the monster falls to the ground dead. your jaw drops. you turned to hugged sunghoon but miscalculated and accidentally kissed him right on the lips.

okay maybe it wasn’t a miscalculation, you knew he was near to you and you wanted to see what happened if you kissed him. either ways, your eyes ‘widened’ and you quickly pulled away. you gasp and frantically apologised to the boy. even the two boys that were there had their eyes widened. they were shocked at what they witnessed.

“oh my god, this is embarrassing. sunghoon, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do that I swear-” you felt a pair of lips on yours again.

you hear gasps behind and beside you. jay and jake’s jaw dropped even more at the bold action sunghoon did. your hands fall around sunghoon’s neck, you kissed him happily.

“okay okay! stop kissing you two! god, I don’t wanna have to bleach my damn eyes.” jay says. both you and sunghoon pulled apart.

“you two are disgustingly cute but at the same time just eww.” jake fake gags.

“you are just jealous, I have a girlfriend now.” sunghoon proudly says.

kim sunoo

sunoo runs around the art store, trying to help you find what you needed. he has a sugar rush so you thought it was smart of you to use the energetic boy.

“here. pencils for shading.” he says. you thanked him. he runs off again and you just watched him.

“i’m surprised he actually willingly wanted to do it for you.” jay nudges at you.

“it’s probably the (name) effect again. sunoo likes you.” jake adds.

“pfftt very funny. there is no way sunoo likes me.” you say. the two older boys rolled their eyes.

“yeah sure. just so you know, even if he has sugar rush, he would never be caught helping any of us.”

“well too bad. maybe treat him nicer and stop teasing him then he will like you.” you stuck out your tongue.

“that’s not the only reason. it’s because you are you and sunoo likes that.” jay says.

“enough. there is zero possibility of sunoo liking me.”

“whatever you say.”

“(name) (name)!! I found those fancy colouring pencils that you’ve been talking about!!”

“oh my, I’ve been wanting these for so long…” you noticed the price tag. “it’s too pricey. come on boys, let’s go. you have practice.”

just when you were about leave the store, sunoo comes up behind you and places in the colour pencils that you wanted so much. you quickly realised that it was already paid.

“sunoo.”

“save it. I wanna gift you this since you’ve always wanted it soooo much.”

“once again, kim sunoo strikes at buying a gift for (name).” jay says. you rolled your eyes.

“how about I reward you!” you say to sunoo.

“oooo what reward-”

you pecked sunoo’s lips. he gasps and covers his mouth. even the two older boys were in shock.

“(name)…” jake says.

“d-do you like me too?” sunoo says.

“maybe…” sunoo pecks your lips a couple more times and hugs you excitedly.

“eeeekkk, (name) is my girlfriend now!!” the boy shouts.

yang jungwon

“you know jungwon, I really don’t get how flexible you are.” you wince watching the boy stretch his legs almost easily doing the splits.

jungwon shrugs, "i did taekwondo for years. why wouldn't i be flexible?"

"you're right. i shouldn't doubt your skills."

jungwon snorts. he huffs and gets into position.

"alright. you said you wanted to learn how to do 'pass the mic'?"

you realise what you've gotten yourself into. you awkwardly stood still.

"umm, i won't break my ankles right?"

"no but there is a possibility of spraining it. which is why you should stretch properly."

you hummed, "then, teach me."

jungwon smiles. he teaches you how to do the dance. it was extremely hard and you tripped like so many times. thankfully, jungwon catches you all the time without fail.

you tripped for the tenth time and jungwon catches you.

"you know...i'm starting to think you're purposely falling for me." jungwon jokes.

you blushed, "shut up, i'm just clumsy."

"sure, you usually don't fall this much. especially in school."

"well, i'm not an idol so obviously i am not used to this. besides, we were in a debating club together!"

"yeah whatever. wanna do it from the top again?"

"will you lead?"

"sure."

and so you and jungwon get into positions. the song starting to play and you followed jungwon. just about halfway through the song when you were getting into it, you tripped again. this time, you dragged jungwon along with you.

accidentally pecking him right on the lips in the process. you gasp.

"is this your way of telling me, you have a crush on me (name)?" jungwon asks.

"what? what do you mean? i don't have a crush on you!"

"mhm sure~~" jungwon teases. you were feeling flustered but you could only think of one thing to do and that was to kiss yang jungwon right on the lips again.

the boy was initially in shock but got over it quickly. his hands reach out to place right on your cheeks so he could really kiss you back. you pulled away.

"i-"

"let's go out on a date." jungwon quickly mutters.

nishimura riki

it was a tradition to go to a bowling alley every once in a while with ni-ki since he constantly begged the boys. unfortunately, with busy schedules, they were unable to do so.

instead, ni-ki begged you. his extremely close 'friend'. reason why there is a quotation mark on your friendship is because sure you and ni-ki were friends but it was clear he treated you as more than friends.

he was more touchy with you as compared to everyone. you weren't opposed to dating ni-ki though since you liked him too. however, the boy made you feel confused. as such, you decided you wanted to confirm the relationship you two had.

"here you go. it's your turn first." ni-ki hands you a bowling ball perfect for you.

"thank you." you rolled the ball down the lane and knocked down a few pins. ni-ki was proud so he high-fived you for doing well. you collected the spare soon after.

"you're getting good. you may even be able to beat jay hyung in bowling." ni-ki says.

you snort, "i thought you said you don't really play bowling anymore? why are we here together then?"

"because...i wanted to spend my time with you."

you shoved the boy, clearly you were flustered. ni-ki smirks.

"watch this." ni-ki rolls the ball and gets a strike.

"great job, ni-ki but this isn't over."

"oh so it turned into a competition? alright, then. let's do this."

and so a competition between you and ni-ki starts. a small bet was created where the winner would get to do whatever they wanted. however, you were losing. you huffed. maybe it wasn't too smart to challenge ni-ki. knowing his competitive nature, it made it harder.

ni-ki notices how hard you wanted to win this bet. hence, he started to slow down. he pretended to do bad for the rest of the rounds, purposely rolling the ball to the gutter or getting lesser pins. in the end, you won.

you jumped up excitedly and ni-ki smiles.

"I WIN!!"

"beginner's luck." ni-ki says before bending slightly down to your height. you rolled your eyes. "what do you want then?"

that's when ni-ki felt your lips against his. it was just a mere small peck. you instantly hid your face with your hands. ni-ki stares at you in shock but a smile creeps up. he pulls you into a hug.

"i see, you wanted a boyfriend."

"shut up!"

"well, if that's what you want...i guess i could be yours." he says whilst a smile playing on his lips.

[doudouneverte]

hii, how are u?

i've been obsessed w feli but sadly there aren't many fics w her.

could you write some angst+fluff for her? reader is sad that she can't introduce felicitas to her parents, because theyre not in the picture anymore (you can choose why) and feli comforts reader, but r feels like a burden?

a/n: oh, I love this one. Sorry for the wait but school is messing with my writing time...

"It's okay, I'm here"

*not my GIF*

Pairing: Felicitas Rauch x FRAWNT!reader

Summary: based on the request above

Type: Angst + Fluff

Warning: bad parents, homophobia (homophobic parents)

word count: 3398

--------

Back to the changing at the end of training, joy and excitement for the next game were clearly drowning the room. It will be the final of the DFB-Pokal against Freiburg. While the girls were planning things for the next day, you were discussing something with Svenja until music started to play in the room and you felt someone dragging you by the arm. You looked at them to find your girlfriend, Felicitas Rauch, visibly very excited to dance. You were exhausted and just wanted to get dressed and go back home, but her smile made you give up.

After a little dance and finally getting changed, you waited for your girlfriend in the parking lot, where you resumed your conversation with your captain.

"So, how was your little trip with Feli last week?" The German player asked.

"It was pretty cool. We didn't do anything special, but you know, with her, everything is special."

"Aww, look at you. You're too cute when you talk about her like that."

"I mean it. I don't really need to do something; I'm just grateful she's here, and I thought about..." You interrupted yourself when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. Before you could speak again, your girlfriend wrapped you in a tight hug and left some kisses on your neck, making you giggle.

"Okay, I think I'll let you enjoy your time together. We will see each other tomorrow." Svenja told you. You just nodded before she left, and you entered your car with the defender.

Back in your shared house, you exaggerated a groan before you left your shoes and your training bag at the entrance before collapsing on the couch. Feli laughed at your attitude before she joined you with Cinnamon in her arms.

"Oh, come on, training was rather light today." She said letting the dog sit on your lap before snuggling against your tired body.

"I know, but I didn't sleep enough yesterday, so I'm very tired." You explained.

"Don't worry, tomorrow is a day off. I know the girls proposed to have lunch, but if you're very tired, we can stay at home."

"I would love that, but you forgot something." You said making her a little confused. "Tonight, Julie, come, and we also need to prepare something for tomorrow." You remembered her.

Julie was your little sister, and the next day would be her birthday—well, not exactly. She already had her birthday the day prior, but since you started to play in Germany, she always comes to celebrate with you a few days later.

Feli knew about that. At least about the version you always told her—that being busy meant that your sister always had to come to Germany to spend time with you. It was actually true, but not the full version.

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Do you need my help for anything?" Your girlfriend asked.

"Um, I think I just have to buy eggs and flour to make a cake for tomorrow, but don't worry I-"

"I'll do it!" The defender cut you. "Let it to me. You know how much I love your sister. Don't worry, you can go pick up her, and I'll buy everything we need for tomorrow." She assured you.

"Are you sure about that? I mean, I know you can deal with everything, but I don't want to force you to do anything. We just came back from training; you're tired."

"And so you are. Don't worry; I promise you it's okay. I love to pamper her." She stole you a kiss before standing. "Okay now, come on, we need to take a shower before we go."

"I don't know if I ever told you, but I'm really lucky to have you." You said before following.

"I know, you say it every day." She commented.

"And you don't know how much it means to me." You whispered before kissing her. The defender didn't hear you, but she still reciprocated the affection.

An hour and a half later, you were finally ready to leave, and it took you only thirty minutes to reach your destination. Like expected, your sister was waiting for you, and she immediately caught you in a hug when she saw you.

"Je commençais à croire que tu m'avais oublié. (I started to think that you forgot me.)" She said after you pulled away.

"Arrête de faire ta drama queen, je viens a peine de finir mon entrainement. (Stop doing your drama queen; I just finished my training.)" You replied. "Now let's go. I have a girlfriend that I want to see." You added while you started to put her luggage on the backseat.

"Oh, come on, you see her every day." She said before taking place on the passenger side, you rolled your eyes and decided not to talk back.

The ride back was filled with laughter and pure enjoyment at being reunited. Back at home, Feli was already here, and of course the two women instantly fell in each other's arms.

"Wow, okay, I already got replaced." You said irronicaly.

"Oh, come on, don't act like that; you are always with her." Your sister said.

"Okay, I don't want any arguments today; I'm really tired, and I think we all need to have a good night. So, now girls, let's eat and sleep." Feli said ending any potential sibling argument.

"Yes, ma'am." you both said before heading to the kitchen.

-----

The next day, you were awakened by a very excited defender, and because she had to be quiet, you found it very cute. When she realized that you were fully awake, she didn't waste more time before leading you into the living room to show you what she started to do.

"Wow, why are you so excited?" you asked her after almost tripping on your own foot.

"Look at this." The defender showed you all the decorations she made a little earlier. "I just need your help with something. But before that, what do you think about this?" she asked you.

"That's... incredible," you finished. "I didn't know you had so much talent to decorate this place," you added, really surprised.

"Thans. I didn't want to awaken you because I know that you were very tired yesterday."

"Oh, come on, babe, you know you're maybe the only person who is allowed to wake me up whenever you want." You said while you rolled your arms around her hips. "I meant it when I said that I'm lucky to have you in my life."

"Okay, now stop being cheesy and kiss me before the baby wakes up and starts to complain because we show 'too much love'." She mimicked your sister's voice.

Just after attaching your lips to Feli's, you heard someone making some disgusted noises behind you.

"I can't leave you two alone for five minutes," your sister said, making you roll your eyes. "And by the way, I'm not a baby anymore," she added.

"You need to stop eardropping, you little dipshit." You said earning a firm slap from your girlfriend.

"Okay, let's not talk about that." Feli said, escaping from your arms to hug your sister. "Happy birthday, Prinzessin (princess)."

"Oh, and now she's been called Princess; you never called me like that before." You said while you filled a cup of water.

"Stop pouting, mommy; it doesn't suit you." Your sister said making you choke on the water, and Feli blushed more quickly than ever seen.

"Julie!" you both yelled.

"What? It's your own fault to not be quiet while you....you have your affairs," she replied with a disgusted look.

"Please, someone kill me right now." Feli said this dramatically before going back to your shared bedroom.

You were about to say something when your sister's phone rang. She looked at it, then looked at you with a curious expression. You didn't have to ask before she showed you who was calling; it was your mom.

You picked up for her and quickly pressed the phone on her before leaving the room. On your way to go somewhere far away from your sister's phone, you collided with the defender.

"Hey, where are you going? We haven't given her her present yet." You didn't reply and just dragged her back from where she came out.

"I just want to cuddle with you while she's on the phone."

Feli was aware that something was strange after your request. Of course, it was not unusual for the defender that you asked something like that, but when Julie came to visit, you were always stuck with each other. Sometimes the defender felt like the third wheel, but she knew that because you couldn't see her as much as you wanted, it was logical that you wanted to spend all your time with her.

"Is everything okay?" The defender asked carefully while you were lying on top of her with your head hidden in the crook of her neck.

"Yes," you replied quickly, but without moving.

"Are you sure? Because usually you would be annoying Julie knowing that she can't do anything while she's on the phone." She said with a little smile on her face, reminding herself every time you did that and your sister chasing you around the hole house after.

"Yeah, don't worry, I just want to spend some alone time with you."

"Okay." She replied and started to play with your hair. A few seconds later, she heard someone knock on the door. "Come in." 

Julie opened the door and immediately felt bad for you when she saw you curled against your girlfriend's body. "Uh, Y/n?" She called you, a little unsure of how she should announce it. When she heard you hum, she took a rather long moment before dropping the bomb. "Mom called. She asked if I was planning to come home soon and told her that I would stay until your next game." She took a pause, letting your girlfriend be confused for a moment. "Her and dad will come to see you play tomorrow."

"That's super!" Your girlfriend sheered, but when she was not met with the same excitement from both of you, she reconsidered it.

"Svenja wants to see me," you said before leaving the bed and heading to the bathroom. "I think it would be cool if you came too; I promised her to let her know when you come to visit," you said to your sister before closing the door.

Feli stayed there, trying to process whatever was happening. She didn't have to wait too long before you came back and started to get dressed.

"Listen, I don't know what's happening right now, but you do really need to leave right now?" the defender asked.

"Don't worry, we will be really quick." You tried to reassure her with a light peck on her lips, but she could feel that you were not totally honest with that. Even if she wanted to stop you or invited herself, she knew (almost) more than anyone to not overstep things with you.

~~~~~

"Well, when you say that something bad happened, I didn't know it was that bad." Svenja said while you were trying to be eaten alive by her couch.

"At least they didn't show up unnacounced." Julie said.

"Why do they have to come when we play a final? They had all the season to come and be as disrespectful as they wanted; why did they choose one of the most important games?" You asked no one.

"I think you should tell her." Your captain proposed.

"I can't..." You started to feel some tears filling your eyes.

"Y/n, I agreed to keep it for myself because we were sure that they would never come here to see you, but now things are different."

You sighed and tried to restrain some tears.

"Don't worry, we will be there if you need anything." Svenja reminded you.

~~~~~

An hour later, you were back at home. Feli noticed the change in mood but didn't say anything, at least not to you. She waited until you went to your bedroom to take your sister apart.

"Julie, what happened?" The defender asked.

"I don't think I'm the right person to talk to you about. I think you should see it directly with her." Your sister replied. "And honestly, I think she may need your help." She added.

In the bedroom, you were curled up on the bed while trying to stop spiraling–which was almost impossible–when you heard the door getting opened. You didn't have to look to know that it was your girlfriend who was visibly worried about your state.

"Hey liebe(love), what's going on?" She asked after she sat next to you.

"I don't want to play tomorrow." You said making her more worried than before.

"Why?"

"Because that means I would have to see them, which I don't want."

"Who? Your parents?" You didn't reply and just nodded. She laid down next to you and cuddled you as much as possible. "Listen, I don't know what happened with them, but can you explain me why you feel like that? You are usually the one who always complains that they never come to see you play, and now you're not happy with that."

"Trust me, you don't want to know." 

"Of course, I want Y/n. They're the ones who raised you, and... they're your parents."

"They were." You stated making the defender's heart shatter at your expression. "They stopped being my parents at the moment they stopped seeing me like their daughter." 

"What happened?" She asked after a little silence.

"Nothing," you replied. Your body was slightly shaking, and you were crying again. "nothing happened. They just hate me because I... because I..." You couldn't find the strength to finish your sentence while you were remembering your sudden departure from the place you once called home.

Feli tried to calm you, but nothing seemed to work.

"They hate me because I love you." You said, and now the defender started to put some pieces together.

"They don't like who you are?" She asked, and you shook your head. She finally dragged you into a bone-crushing hug while you continued to cry on her shoulder.

"It's okay, babe; I'm here. I'll not leave you." She said trying to shush you.

"I don't want to see them, please." You pleaded to no one because you knew that whatever happened, you would have to face them.

Your girlfriend pulled away from the hug and cleared some tears from your face. "Hey, hear me out, mein liebe(my love). Even if these people don't like you, we will always be there for you. Me, Julie, and the team. And even Cinnamon and my parents too." She kissed one cheek and the other before she spoke again. "If they don't love you because of who you are, that's their problem. For me, you are the most beautiful and incredible woman who ever walked on this planet; you are perfect, and nothing could change that. I will not let some horrible people think that they can change that. I love you, and I don't care if I have to fight your parents or the entire planet to have you by my side, because I would definitely do it."

Your sobs were more calm after her confession. That was the first time someone said something like that to you. "Do you mean it?" You asked.

"Of course. And look, my parents already love you, so you don't have to care about what your parents think about us. And I was thinking that if one day I have to ask for someone's blessing to marry you, it will definitely be your sister..."

She continued to ramble for a moment until you kissed her, and she realized what she said.

"I mean only if you want, of course." She said making you laugh quietly.

"Let me some time to think about it, but I would be happy with that." 

You stayed in your girlfriend's arms for a moment until you heard someone knock on the door. When Julie opened it, she could tell that you cried a lot, but from your expression and Feli's tight grip, she could also guess that you finally decided to tell her about your past.

"Excuse me, I don't want to ruin anything, but I think we have a birthday to celebrate, and we still don't do anything today." Your sister reminded you.

~~~~~

The final whistle announced the end of the match, and with that, your victory. You were celebrating with your teammates when you spotted your sister and your parents among the VfL fans. You shoot a sincere smile at your sister but decide to ignore the other adults to not ruin the mood of the team.

After a little celebration in the locker room, it was time to leave. You were in the bus waiting for Feli to come, but the defender didn't show up since you left her a few minutes earlier.

"Hey, Poppi, do you know where Feli is?" You asked your captain, a little confused, not to see your girlfriend anywhere.

"She said she had someone to see, but she should be back really quickly." The striker replied, and despite your pout, there was nothing you could do except text her.

In the parking lot, your sister was talking with your parents when they heard someone coming in their direction.

"Feli?" Your sister asked very confusedly.

"Hi Prinzessin, I hope you enjoyed the game." The defender said while she hugged the younger woman. After she pulled away, she looked at your parents and held her hand, which they shook much to her surprise. "Hi, I'm Felicitas Rauch. I think you saw me play earlier."

"Yeah. We don't usually watch football; we came because our little girl wanted to see this match, but I need to say that I'm very impressed by your performance." Your mom said with a rather bright smile, and that's almost made your girlfriend feel sad to know that the smile that she loves the most came from someone who hates you the most.

"Yes, I have to say that I agree with my wife on that; your team was very good." Your father added, and the defender offered them a fake smile. Julie watched the interaction, totally flabbergasted by everything.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that, but I came to talk to you about something else." The German said, earning a confused look from the couple. "I'm Y/n's girlfriend." At those words, your parents faces changed suddenly. The bright and welcoming smile was quickly replaced by a heinous and disgusted expression. "See, I'm not here to ask for your blessings or anything like that. No, I came to tell you to never show in front of her again. You already destroyed her too much in the past, and it took me a very long time to put the pieces together. I don't know why you showed up today, but judging by your expression and your lack of good feelings for her, I don't think you're here to make things up. I just want you to leave and never come back. You ignored her for the most part of her career. I think it will not be very difficult to do the same a little longer."

"I knew it." Julie mumbled to herself after your girlfriend finished her speech.

"I don't say goodbye; just go straight to hell and leave her alone." The defender said before going back to the team bus.

Almost five minutes later, you were talking with Dom and Lena when you saw your girlfriend finally walking to the bus with an angry expression. However, this feeling totally got washed away when she saw you tap the seat next to you to indicate that you had saved her a seat. She crashed next to you and intertwined your fingers before resting her head on your shoulder.

"Where were you?" You asked quietly.

"Saying goodbye to someone." She said with a proud smile. When you nodded and were about to resume your previous chat, she grabbed your face with her free hand, making you look at her. "I'm really lucky to have you in my life, mein liebe." She said making you blush.

"I'm very lucky too." You replied. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[arcandoria]

Virtual Photography Process

I got an ask that I posted by accident before being ready, so I'm going to make this a post I suppose fmdlksg Anon was asking about my Reshade Preset for Cyberpunk and what my VP process is, so here it is!

Anon, I don't quite have a VP process. Not in a trademark way anyway. My VP varies wildly across the years and generally speaking I just go with the vibe I feel at the moment!

I've had phases where I would barely do any post-processing at all and only rely on heavy Reshade, I had phases where I'd do some minor color tweaking and add a lot of effects like dust and sparks, and my current one where I do pretty much all my color tweaking in post-process and only really use light Reshade to sharpen the image and make colors pop a bit.

My current Reshade is a tweaked version of a friend's preset. I have an average rig, don't have any Fancytracing, so Reshade is mostly there to sharpen the image, deepen the colors and try to compensate for my GPU's limitations. I forgot to use Otis DOF for this example, but nowadays I don't use any Reshade DOF, and rely only on Otis'. I also only use Otis lights because I can control what each light does a little better than AMM lights, but I used AMM lights a lot when I first was VPing.

It's when the game's closed that I have my fun with colors!

I do my coloring on RawTherapee, which is a free Lightroom. Mostly I make use of the Film Simulation, sometimes layering multiple, sometimes using only one.

I then move to Photoshop which is my last stop and my "correction" phase. I have a huge library of actions and gradient maps I paw around for any last coloring (specially making shadows more matte and less defined), tweak contrast/brightness, and add some blurring and noise (beloved).

I probably have actions/gradient posts reblogged on my repository blog (@halkuonn), I can't point you to a single place because I've been dragging these around for over a decade and across at least 3 computers...

Honestly, don't get too attached to a single workflow with your VP. VP is art and art is meant to be a creative outlet, if you start putting too many rules and step by steps on your personal workflow, you'll probably get frustrated fast.

My current workflow is way lengthier than how I took some of my older VP, but that's because I feel like doing it. I don't necessarily feel like it's better or worse, it's just a different way I've been doing stuff and having fun with VP.

This is from 2022 - I wasn't using Otis Freecam, relied on AMM Lights, and did some mild/low post-processing - things like making the shadows a little bit more purple with Color Balance, and adding A LOT of blur manually because I didn't know how to use any of the DOF shaders. I was using Pinky's Preset back then.

This is from 2023 - the fuck it we ball era. This has like... 0 post-processing. I wasn't using Otis DOF (I don't think it existed yet), but I was already using Otis Lights learned to use the DOF shaders. The only thing I was doing for post-processing is add Noise and slap my signature (which this one doesn't even have lmao). I already had a new Reshade preset from my friend, but didn't really tweak any of it.

From this year! I still wasn't using RawTherapee a lot, but it was the start of my "I'm going to do everything in post-processing" era, with shadows not as dark/contrasted and everything a bit hazy.

So yeah! Don't stress about having a single workflow, or the best workflow, or even the most appropriate Reshade. For me the less I try to be biblical about my VP process, the more I enjoy taking it, and in turn the more satisfied I am with the results.

If you want more of a tutorial, I can try?? doing one?? but really the only thing I have been consistently doing with my VP all these years is slapping some extra blur and adding Noise on PS.

Hope this helps or at least provides some software recommendations / process ideas though!

[kingdomvel]

For the kiss prompts, what do you think about Obikin saying “close your eyes” or kissing on a dare? 😘

I realise I forgot to say to tell me an au you wanted this for and luckly because of that I got an amazing idea

Here is a canonish obikin snippet with "close your eyes" AND kissing on a dare

“Truth or dare” Ferus asks.

“Dare” Anakin answers immediately. The last four people had chosen truth and Anakin needs a bit of excitement or he will go to bed before the countdown to the new year properly starts, and that is in ten minutes.

The whole Jedi order is gathered to welcome the new year with a bit party. There is music, drinks and food. All Masters, knights and padawans in attendance, even the younglings had joined for the first part of the evening.

The party had started early, and that is why a couple of hours in, Anakin and some other young knights had gathered to play a game of truth or dare. The dares so far had been fun. Making Master Windu drop his drink with the force, drinking a whole bottle without pause, mimicking a Master for five minutes without them noticing – though Anakin is sure they had won that one because Master Koon was too amused by their antics to call them out.

Anakin chooses dare, because it’s more fun and choosing truth is always dangerous, specially when you have something you don’t want anyone knowing like Anakin does.

The smirk on Ferus’ face makes him rethink his choice.

“I dare you to kiss Master Kenobi when the countdown strikes zero.” Ferus says.

“Okay.” Anakin answers easily. He knows his former master, he is not overly affectionate, but he doesn’t shy away from that kind of displays either. He has seen him greet Padmé and Bail with kisses on the cheek. He probably won’t think much of it, specially if Anakin does it to welcome the new year.

It’s not a specially hard dare, he doesn’t understand Ferus’ smirk.

“On the lips.” Ferus adds.

Anakin blanches.

Ha can’t know, it’s the first thing he thinks. Ferus can’t know about his feelings for his former master. There is no way he knows.

“Uuuuuh luckyyy” One of the other knights says, her voice teasing, “who hasn’t dreamed about kissing Master Kenobi?”

There are a few teasing remarks more, a few laughs. They don’t know. Anakin forces himself to laugh too.

It’s a minute before the new year when Anakin finds Obi-Wan. His Master smiles at him and hands him a glass with a drink. They both turn towards the countdown on the centre of the room. Anakin sees Ferus smirking at him from the other side of the hologram. He wants to punch him. He won’t back out of a dare.

He can feel the nerves filling him, squeezing his insides. It chokes him.

He leaves the glass on a table close to them, afraid he will drop it.

Fifty seconds.

Obi-Wan asks him if had fun with his friends, Anakin tries not to choke on his answer.

Twenty seconds.

Anakin turns towards Obi-Wan. The party lights dance on his face, he looks beautiful.

“Master” Anakin says. Obi-Wan turns towards him, and Anakin’s heart jumps in his chest from how easily he can get his master’s undivided attention. But the attention is too much for him knowing what he is about to do. Obi-Wan’s eyes are too blue, too piercing. Anakin feels like he knows what he is thinking, what is in his mind and heart, like he can see right through him. It’s too much.

Ten seconds.

“Close your eyes.” Anakin says and Obi-Wan does.

Anakin admires him as the people around them count down the seconds.

When it reaches zero, Anakin surges forward and kisses his former master right on the lips. It’s meant to be quick, celebratory, just a peck. Something he can later brush off when his Master pulls away with a horrified look on those beautiful eyes of his.

When Obi-Wan doesn’t pull away immediately Anakin lingers.

And then the impossible happens.

There is a hand on his face.

Lips move against his.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his girl - ch. 7 **

You might want to put aside some time for this, I somehow managed to write 10k...and the second half is like all smut, almost.

Took me a while to get this out, it was kinda meant to be a filler chapter but then I wanted to add more so I ended up moving things around in the story line so now we've got this one. Next chapter will see their relationship move forward with leaps and bounds and then we get into the really juicy bits!

Please enjoy and if you do, please reblog so that more people see the fic, I'll love you always if you do

If wanna catch up from the beginning, here is chapter 1 of The Pilot and his girl

Chapter 8

Tag list: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer

Sometimes you think back on other guys you’ve dated. The guy who wanted to be able to call you up whenever he wanted sex and always got mad when you weren’t around to supply, the college guy who never wanted to touch you in public, the older guy who ‘forgot’ to mention his wife and two year old son, the guy who cheated on you and then messaged all your friends and told them he’d dumped you because you’d cheated on him with his boss. And that didn’t even cover all the ‘normal’ guys who just wanted to play the game, date and have sex but never commit or say what they actually felt or introduce you to their friends or family. 

And then there was Frankie Morales. Sweet, loving, loyal Frankie who never seemed to hide what he was thinking or wanted to play games. Who never made it difficult or made you guess what he felt or what his intentions were. He was just always happy to be with you, to see you and to let the world around you know that he belonged to you and no one else. Who would kiss you in public just because he felt like it, took your hand as soon as you were near, and never hesitated to include you in his plans. Being with Frankie was easy and you finally started to understand that dating someone shouldn’t be non-stop drama, it should be easy and that’s how you knew it was right. 

And Frankie slipped into your life as easily as he let you slip into his. After your first few dates he made it clear that he would happily spend as much time as he could with you, the only other priority in his life being his daughter and you happily took a back seat to her. Frankie was always a bit low when he came back from seeing her, or she’d spent a weekend with him, his guilty conscience about not seeing her enough always on his mind. But he was also full of stories about her, his eyes beaming, a wide, proud, smile on his face, as he told you about what they’d done, the things she’d said and how much she’d grown or what new skills she’d learnt. She was the centre of his universe and you didn’t mind, she grounded him and made him happy and a better man. Both for her and for you. 

When Frankie wasn’t working or went to see Lucía, your weekends were spent mostly in each other’s company. He’d pick you up on Friday evening and take you out ‘properly’, as he said. He’d show up in his truck, freshly showered after work and in a clean shirt. If he’d ditched the cap you knew he’d made plans for a more upscale restaurant. If the cap was firmly pressed down over his, still very, unruly curls, you knew he was taking you on one of his special Frankie dates. 

The first time you’d expected maybe a cool food truck or local BBQ place when he said he’d made ‘special plans’, your expectations from previous guys were not exactly high. But instead he’d taken you to a secluded spot up on a hill, parking the truck and walking with you through the forest on a small path until the trees fell away to a cliff overlooking a lake. Stuck into the ground was a small sign that read “Reserved - Morales” that made you giggle at the thought that he’d hiked up here earlier, just to place the sign. Frankie had then produced a thick blanket from his backpack, a lantern, a camping stove, various containers and bottles and proceeded to cook you dinner while the sun set behind the forest on the other side of the lake. When dinner was done with, and you’d expressed your deep astonishment at how romantic he was, Frankie blushing to the tips of his ears, he’d wrapped you both in the blanket and leaned back against a rock with you tucked in against his chest. 

“You’re setting the bar very high for all the other guys, Francisco Morales,” you hum as you feel the cool tip of his nose brush against your cheek. 

“What other guys, hermosa?” he mutters, lightly kissing the tip of your ear. 

“All the other guys in general,” you lean into his warm lips skating along your neck, “once word gets out this is how Frankie Morales treats women, who’s gonna want a regular guy?” 

Frankie chuckles quietly, his rich, warm voice close to your ear. “I don’t treat women like this, only you, solo tu hermosa mujer.

“See, there you go again, setting the bar impossibly high,” you smile and push your fingers into the curls at the back of his neck, scratching his scalp and drawing a soft moan from him. 

When the night became too cold even for the blanket and the Frankie shaped furnace at your back, he’d held your hand as you walked back, his powerful torch shining the way through the pitch black forest. At any other time the thought of walking through a dark forest would’ve made you slightly panicky, but with Frankie’s warm hand in yours and his broad shoulders in front of you as he easily navigated the path back to his truck, you felt as safe as you did at home in your bed. 

It was easy, being with Frankie was the easiest thing of them all. 

…

You woke up with a groan on Sunday morning, six weeks or so into dating Frankie. You’d been out the night before with friends and now you were paying the price; dry mouth, headache and that horrible shaky feeling as you moved your limbs. You were definitely never, ever drinking again. You were in Frankie’s bed but he was absent so with a groan you pushed the covers aside and sat up carefully. 

As you sat on the side of the bed, contemplating death, you heard Frankie’s bare feet coming down the hall, pushing open the door. 

“Morning, my little ‘I’m not drunk’ girl,” he smiled, far too cheerful and you groaned again and fell back into bed, pulling the covers with you as Frankie chuckled. 

“Just stay in bed, hermosa, I’ll get you some water and coffee, and breakfast whenever you feel up for it.” 

“Thank you,” you mumble from under the covers. 

“Anything for you, I love you,” he says as he bends and kisses the covers over your head. 

Oh yeah, you said that last night too.

…

Towards the end of your night you’d met up with Frankie and his friends at a bar. Your friends  were heading home, and you probably should’ve done the same, but you wanted to see Frankie and you’d promised to call him before you went home. He was the designated driver for the evening, as most evenings. Frankie didn’t like tempting fate with too much alcohol after he got clean from the coke. 

“Mi hermosa, hi,” came his warm, smiling voice over the phone when he picked up, and you immediately heard someone shush loudly in the background. 

“Sssshhhhh, everyone, ssssshhhhh, it’s the girlfriend, sssshhhhh!” The drunken voice of Benny was easily recognisable in the background.  

“Hi Frankie boy,” you cooed, definitely a little bit more than tipsy, “and hi Benny,” you giggled. 

“Tell her to come here,” Benny’s voice was suddenly very close, “I need her as my wing woman!”

“Benny, for fuck’s sake!” It sounded like Frankie had to pull his phone away from his friend as he shuffled away from the table they were all at, chairs scraping across a floor. 

“Sounds like Benny’s a little bit drunk, baby,” you give him a tipsy giggled again. 

“Sounds like you’re a little bit drunk too, cariño,” Frankie chuckles. “Do you wanna come over, we’re at the usual place.” 

“Only if you want me to, I don’t want to crash boy’s night.”

“You should definitely come over, I wanna see you this drunk,” he laughs as you protest and claim to be only slightly tipsy. “Get yourself in an Uber, and send me the details so I know when you get here.” 

“Ok, Frankie boy, always so responsible,” you pout and give him a salute before you remember he can’t actually see you through the phone. 

“Just be safe, hermosa,” he smiles before he hangs up. 

He’s waiting outside for you when the Uber pulls up, opening the door of the car and giving you a hand as you step out. 

“Hi sweetie,” you purr, wrapping your arms around his neck, stumbling slightly on the curb, as Frankie catches you around the middle. 

“Hey there, not drunk girl,” he smiles down at you and accepts your wet kiss to his lips with a chuckle. “How’s your night been?” 

“S’been good, everybody came, even Hannah who always cancels because her kids are sick.” you say as Frankie guides you towards the door of the bar. “And we got free drinks from a bunch of guys who were trying to hit on us, but their loss, because we’re all taken,” You pull him close and place a kiss on his cheek, “You’re my Frankie boy.”  

“Did you accept their drinks?” Frankie’s got a worried look in his eyes that you don’t notice as you shrug your jacket off as the heat of the room hits you.” 

“Yeah, sure! It was free drinks. It’s not like they were gonna get anything in return.” 

“Cariño, you shouldn’t accept drinks from random men in bars, what if they slip something in it? You’ve got to be careful.” He’s got his arm around your waist, walking you towards the table where the guys are. 

“Wait,” you stop halfway across the bar, poking his chest with your finger, “you were gonna buy me a drink when we met, are you saying I shouldn’t have accepted that?” 

“Uh…I mean…” Frankie flounders, “technically, I guess, no?” 

“You’re so cute when you blush, sweet Francisco,” you gush, wrapping your arms around his neck again and standing on your toes to kiss the tip of his nose, “I know I shouldn’t accept drinks from random guys, baby. But free drinks!” you grin again and Frankie can’t help but chuckle when he sees your delighted grin. 

“My tipsy girl,” he smiles, “we should get some food in you.” 

“Nachos!” you exclaim as Frankie puts his hand on your back and ushers you towards the table and the guys again. 

Pope pulls you in for a bear hug as Frankie pulls out a chair for you, and Will gives you a grin from across the table. 

“Hey, there she is!” Benny whoops as you sink down on the chair, “My wing woman!” He attempts to high five you but you’re too focused on telling Frankie you want the biggest serving of nachos they’ve got, and Benny’s hand slaps down on your shoulder instead, making you jump. 

“Jeez, Benny, calm down,” Frankie scowls and knocks his hand off your shoulder. “I’m getting nachos for the drunk girl, anyone else want anything?” he asks. 

“Nachos and drinks, if you’re offering,” Pope says and Frankie nods, heading back towards the bar. 

“I’m really not drunk, just a little bit tipsy,” you tell the three guys as Frankie walks off. “He’s being very overprotective.” 

“I heard that,” Frankie calls from over his shoulder, making you giggle loudly and snort.

“Well, you’re in good company here,” Will nods at Benny who’s slightly red eyed appearance betrays that he’s by far the furthest one gone at the table. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Benny taps your arm excitedly, looking at a table towards the back of the bar, not paying attention to his brother, “Can you help me get that blonde over there? Like, walk over to her or something and tell her I’m great in bed and she should totally let me buy her a drink.” 

“What Benny?! No!” you protest, “I’m not lying to some poor woman, I don’t even know if you’re good in bed.” You give Benny a slightly unfocused once over, “Are you any good in bed?”  

“I’m totally good in bed!” he insists, “I’d prove it but you know…Fish would literally kill me dead.” 

“Ewww!” you exclaim, sending Pope and Will into a laughing fit as Benny blinks, trying to figure out if he should be insulted or not. “Sorry! That came out wrong!” you grab on to his arm, “I mean, you’re cute and all but just not my type, I like - “

“We know what you like,” Pope interrupts with a grin, “you like ‘em dark haired, brown eyed and tanned.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you as you snort out a laugh. 

“I mean, I can’t deny that, but I like my men taller and with less body hair, Santi,” you smirk and Pope tries to look insulted. 

“Ouch, going after my height, evil woman,” he huffs, but he’s still laughing. 

“You got the right one then,” Will chuckles, “Frankie’s got less body hair than a hairless cat.” 

“Why the fuck are you talking about my body hair?” Frankie says, coming back to the table, sending Benny and you into a laughing fit and Will just waving his hand. 

“Forget it man, not important.” 

Frankie raises his eyebrows and gives his head a slight shake as he sets down the nachos and drinks for the table, although you’re also getting a large glass of water. 

“Are you riling them up, cariño?” he asks, smiling down at you as you try to pull him down for a kiss that he willingly gives, your lips tasting of tequila and wine, oh, you’ll be hungover for sure in the morning. 

“I’m innocent,” you smirk, looking anything but and Frankie chuckles. 

“Move, baby, sit on my lap, there’s no extra chair.” 

You happily oblige, sitting sideways across Frankie’s lap, his warm arm around your waist, holding you tight. 

Nachos and beers are soon gone and Pope gets everyone a new round, getting Frankie a Coke that he tries to make you drink instead of the beer Pope got you, but not having much success. Benny’s trying his luck with the blonde across the room and Will and Pope decide to shoot some pool while you and Frankie watch from the table. Despite there being several empty chairs now you stay on Frankie’s lap, his legs are slowly falling asleep but he won’t make you move, he’s got you tight against his body, and your arm is draped across his shoulder, absentmindedly dragging your fingers through the curls around his neck at the edge of his cap. He hums contentedly as your nails scratch his scalp and you feel the rumble in his chest. Looking down you see his eyes slip closed, he always has trouble keeping them open when you play with his hair. He’s not asleep but his muscles relax and his head slumps forward, leaning against you. 

Gently you pull his cap off so that you can run your fingers through more of his hair, Frankie mutters his consent and you feel his fingers trace small circles on your back, warm through the thin fabric of your top. His soft curls slip under your fingers as you run them through his hair, the buzz of alcohol in your system making you sleepy, Frankie’s warm body making you feel safe and content. You bend down and press a kiss to the top of his head and with your lips still close to his hair it slips out.

“I love you.” 

Frankie’s eyes snap open and he pulls back from your chest, looking up at you, searching your eyes to see if you mean it or if you’re just too drunk. 

“What did you say, hermosa?” he asks softly as you look down at him, a small, uncertain smile on your lips. 

“I’m sorry…” you waver, “it just slipped out, it’s too soon and I’m drunk and it’s -” 

“I love you, I love you too,” Frankie interrupts, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest as he pulls your lips to his, “don’t be sorry,” he mumbles against your mouth, “I would’ve said it weeks ago if I had the guts.” 

His hand slips behind your neck, holding you to his lips, as you wrap your arms around him. His heart is racing, he can feel your smile against his mouth as you press yourself against him and it feels like millions of tiny bubbles are gathering inside his chest, pushing up through his throat and making him grin like a fool against your soft lips. The kiss turns sloppy as you both start to giggle, foreheads leaning together, you look into his warm, brown eyes that are crinkling at the corners. 

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, still smiling so wide you feel like your face is splitting but happy tears are threatening to spill out. The way Frankie is looking at you makes you feel like he just wrapped you up in a blanket, tucked you against his chest and enveloped you with his love, making you his axis point. 

“I love you too, hermosa,” he replies, “I love you so fucking much, I wanted to tell you when you took my hand after I told you about all the shit in my life, but I was scared it was too much. And when you still wanted to be with me and the first morning you woke up with me, you told me how amazing you think I am…” Frankie reaches up and strokes his thumb over your cheek, catching a tear that’s escaped from your eyes, “I almost said it then too, I really wanted to tell you then, but I chickened out..” 

“You should’ve said it all those times, Frankie,��� you say, putting your hand over his, still on your cheek, “I would’ve said it back, but I thought it was too soon. I thought you’d run a mile if you knew how fast I fell for you.” 

“Not in a million years, hermosa, never.” He pulls you in, catching your lips in another kiss, slow and searing, making you part your lips so that he can taste you, despite all the alcohol. You feel his tongue, soft against your own, as he moves to kiss you deeper, his arm wrapped tight around your waist, holding you firm against him as you hold onto his shoulders, and push your fingers into his hair. You’re in your own bubble, only you and him, and the noises of the bar fades away as you hum against his mouth, the taste of him, his tongue, overtakes your hazy mind. 

…

You stay under the covers, you can hear Frankie moving around his kitchen, making coffee. You remember him taking the guys and you home last night. The truck had been full, the guys in the back and you tucked into Frankie’s side in the front, falling asleep against his shoulder as he dropped the others off first. You vaguely remember Frankie gently scooting you out of his truck and picking you up. You’d woken up when he had to put you down to dig out his keys, his soft voice telling you to stay awake as you leaned on him. Finally he’d gotten you both into his place and he’d tucked you in under the covers of his bed, the last thing you seem to remember is him taking your shoes off. 

Now he pads back into the bedroom with a bottle of water and a large coffee. 

“Here, cariño, drink the water first.” 

“Thanks, Frankie, you’re more than I deserve, I was way too drunk last night,” you moan, gratefully taking the water bottle from him. 

“You’re a very cute drunk,” he smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed as you pull yourself up, leaning against the headboard and taking a long drink of water. 

“And I love you too,” you say, putting down the water and taking his hand, “I remember that part at least.” 

Frankie chuckles and pulls your hand to his lips, kissing your palm, “I was a bit worried you’d said all those sweet things and then forget about it. 

“Never, Frankie,” you smile, “how could I? I just wish I hadn’t blurted it out when I was drunk...” 

“It was very sweet, hermosa, alcohol clearly makes you honest. I need to remember that,” he pulls you towards him with a big grin and you lean against his chest, breathing into his clean t-shirt, fresh cotton and the smell of just him underneath it. If you weren’t so hungover you’d pull him back into the bed with you, he feels good next to you, warm and solid, his little belly soft to the touch as you absentmindedly run your hand over it and listen to his heartbeat under your ear. Frankie’s hand is rubbing up and down your back and you can feel his breath against the top of your head where he's leaning his chin. 

“I wanted to ask you something,” he says after a little while of enjoying just sitting together in silence. The slight hesitation in his voice makes you lift your head and look up at him. He’s got that worried look in his eyes, and it makes you mirror his look, raising your eyebrows in concern as he goes on; 

“Lucía is supposed to come here next weekend, she’s staying Saturday and Sunday. And you can say no if you think it’s too much but, but I really want you to meet her, if you want?” 

“You know I’d love to meet her, Frankie” you say, sitting up so that you can look properly at him. His expressive eyebrows immediately shoot up in a relieved look. 

“I know, I just wanted to make sure,” he says, “I’ve…I’ve never…let her meet a girlfriend before and I wanna make sure you’re fine with it too.” 

“I’m absolutely fine with it, sweetie,” you rub his arm, wanting to reassure him that it really was fine. “If you want, we can start easy though, maybe? Just tell her I’m a friend of yours or something and we keep the PDA to a minimum around her?” 

“Yeah, I was thinking that too,” he agrees. “I haven’t talked to her mom yet either, it’s not like I need her permission for it or anything, but you know, just so that she hears it from me and not Lucía afterwards.” 

“I won’t stay over at your place when she’s here,” you stretch your arms up, yawning big and Frankie pushes the coffee mug into your hands with a smile. “We’ll just hang out a bit,” you say, “I don’t wanna intrude on your father - daughter time, I know you feel like you don’t see enough of her as it is.” 

“You could never intrude, cariño,” Frankie protests, “hang out with us as much as you want. Although, four year olds can be a bit rowdy so you might need to work on your stamina,” he chuckles. 

“I know how to handle four year olds,” you grin, “I just buy them the loudest toy I can find and be their new best friend.”

“That’s just evil, just pure evil,” Frankie groans, “every parent's worst nightmare, you would never.” 

“I would never do that to you, Frankie,” you smile and accept his hand as he pulls you out of the bed. “But my brother’s kids, absolutely.” 

“Remind me to never piss you off, cariño,” Frankie chuckles as you make your way into his small kitchen where he’s got breakfast laid out. 

Right from the start Frankie had claimed he couldn’t cook and his mom’s brownies was the only thing he could bake. You’d quickly figured out that the ‘can’t cook’ line was more a show of Frankie’s insecurity rather than an actual thing. And he excelled at breakfast, making both blueberry pancakes, omelettes and smoothies so good you’d rather have his breakfast for every meal of the day than anything else. The first time you had his pancakes, made from scratch and not a box mix, you’d eaten four in one go and not even felt bad about it. Frankie’s smile when you kept asking for more was worth the bloated feeling you had for the rest of the day. He admitted he’d taught himself to make them because they were Lucía’s favourite food and the thought of Frankie looking up pancake recipes online to be able to serve his daughter her favourite food made you almost teary eyed. The more you got to know him, the more you saw of his big heart and soft side, the more it became difficult to equate the man you now knew, with the man who had been in Delta Force and displayed such skill at violence in the bar that horrible night. 

There was one thing that betrayed his background though, his nightmares. Frankie said he had them less these days but there were still several nights where you’d been woken up by him thrashing around in the bed, crying out incoherently. A few times you’d been woken up by Frankie throwing himself on top of you when his sleep hazy mind thought there was a threat in the room and you had to be protected. Sweet on one level, but on those nights it took you both a long time to go back to sleep, Frankie’s adrenaline spiking high and your own heart rate going through the roof after being so brutally woken up. You were grateful that he seemed to need to hold you as close as possible on those nights, it made it easier for you to fall back asleep with his heavy arm draped across your waist or chest, pulled in so tight that you could hear his heartbeat, feel it slow down as he calmed. 

The next morning he’d wake up in a dark mood, feeling guilty about scaring you and bringing his issues into your life. You soon figured out that the best way to get him past his sullen thoughts was to pull him down on the sofa and make him lay back, resting against you. That way you could hook one arm around his broad chest, make him tip his head back on your shoulder and then scratch his scalp with your fingertips. His mind would stop racing, he would feel your heartbeat under his body and your fingers softly scraping through his curls, slowly realising that you weren’t leaving, that he wasn’t scaring you away by showing you the darker sides of himself. 

“I’m sorry, cariño, I’m such an idiot, it’s just me and my stupid brain causing trouble,” he mumbled while your fingers worked through his hair. 

“You’re not an idiot, Frankie,” you gently admonished him, “you know why your brain gives you nightmares, you’ve been through more than anyone should have to endure, “ you press a kiss to his head and he leans towards you. 

“My sponsor always says I should tell people close to me what’s going on when I start spiralling out of control, but that’s always been the hardest thing.” 

“Why is it hard?” you ask, still brushing through his soft curls, willing him to relax against you. 

Frankie shifts under your arm, turning so that he can press his face against the side of your neck, you feel him inhale deeply as he stretches his arm across your chest and pulls you closer. 

“It took me a long time to figure this out,” he says in a low voice, “I feel like I fail when I lose control, fail my family, my friends, anyone I wanna be close to.” His voice is muffled, pressed up against you as he hides his face, “I feel guilty about failing so I don’t ask for help and then it gets worse, I fall into to bad habits and that makes me feel like more of a failure and that makes me feel even more guilty and then it just spirals out of control.”

“What do you think will happen when you tell those you love about losing control?” you ask in a soft voice. You’re leaning your cheek against his head, feeling his breath fan across your neck and chest as he draws a deep breath. 

“That you’ll leave me, see what a fuck up I am and realise I’m not worth the effort.” You can barely hear his low whisper, it cracks at the end, and your heart clenches, your hands leaving his hair as you wrap your arms tight around him, burying your face against his soft curls. 

“Never, Frankie, never.” You squeeze him, willing him to understand how much he’s come to mean to you in this short time. “I don’t know what happens in the future but I can promise you that I’ll never leave you because I think you’re not worth the effort. And don’t say that about yourself, you’ll always be worth the effort, Frankie,” you lean back, putting your hand on his chin and tilting it up so that you can look at him, his eyes are distressed, the usually soft look, pained and tight. “I’ve already told you I think you’re the best man I’ve ever known and even if you spiral out of control and your demons get the better of you, I won’t leave because I know how good you are, what a great man you are and what a great father you are to Lucía.” 

Frankie closes his eyes as you lean in and press a soft kiss to his lips, a long breath escaping with a shudder, as if he’d been holding it in.

“I’m always scared I’ll fuck things up with her,” he says when you pull back from his lips. “How am I gonna be any kind of role model to her when this is what I’ve done with my own life?” 

“Frankie, you idiot,” you smile softly at him, and he looks confused. “You’ve had a passion for helicopters since you were a kid right?” He nods and you continue, “So you found a way to become a helicopter pilot, a very difficult profession that takes enormous dedication and skill. You then got sucked into the fucked up system of the military, and saw some horrible things. Things that any normal person would consider fucked up and have trouble processing, right?” 

“Yeah, I guess, bu- “ 

You stop him, “You didn’t get any adequate help to deal with your PTSD so you found a way to deal with it yourself. A stupid way, sure, but you had the willpower to get your shit together when it became about someone else but you, your daughter.” 

Frankie just nods, his eyebrows pulled up in that tight little knot you’ve seen so many times. 

“Don’t you get it?” you say, “you’ve already proved to her, before she was even born, that she’s the center of your universe and that you’ll do anything for her and that she can do anything she wants. All she has to do is to look at how you’ve managed to get through some of the most fucked up shit.” 

Frankie looks at you as you stroke the lines between his eyebrows with your thumb, smoothing them out. “Frankie Morales, you’re amazing, and if you keep thinking you’re not I’ll have to smack you,” you smile at him and you see the corners of his mouth twitch up, “or I’ll get Pope to smack you,” you say and Frankie smiles properly, his face changing into that soft smile you’ve always loved. He drops his head down on your chest again, his nose pressed against your throat. 

“I’d like to see him try,” he chuckles as he wraps his arm around you and pulls himself on top, looking down at you. 

“Thank you,” he says, using your real name as if to emphasize, “I don’t know what I did in my last life to deserve you in this one.” 

“Maybe you saved my life somehow,” you smile and stroke your thumb over the bare patch in his scruffy beard, “and now you get to have incredible sex with me as a reward.” 

“Yeah?” he smirks, pulling up one corner of his mouth, “Maybe I wanna claim some of that reward right now.”

…

On Friday night, before Lucía’s coming to stay, Frankie picks you up for your date wearing no cap, but a white dress shirt with his dark jeans. You open the door and do a double take, holding out one hand in front of you to stop him, as you shamelessly admire the view. 

“Damn, Frankie…” you purr, letting your eyes travel down from the v of the open neck, the smattering of freckles dark against his tanned skin and white cotton, the wide shoulders that stretch the fabric when he crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame with a smile, his forearms on display where he’s rolled up the sleeves to his elbows, and all the way down over his slim hips and lean thighs under the black denim. 

“Are you taking me out to dinner, or are you delivering yourself for dinner?” you ask, giving him a wicked smile as you hook your finger into his shirt and pull him closer. Frankie chuckles and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Maybe I’m here to make a meal out of you…”

“Cheesy,” you giggled into his mouth, “but I’ll definitely remind yo-” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his hand into your hair and sealing his lips to yours, licking against your bottom lip before he gently sucks on it. A jolt of electricity immediately shoots down your spine and settles between your legs, the sheer promise of what he could deliver had you trembling. A moan escapes you as he pushes you against the wall and lets his thigh spread your legs, the friction shoots another jolt through your body and Frankie knows exactly what he’s doing. You can feel him move his thigh, the thick muscles giving just a taste of what his fingers would do later, and with a crooked smile he pulls back, both from your lips and your legs. 

“Frankie…” you moan, chasing his lips, but he chuckles and takes your hand, pulling you towards the door. 

“Let's get actual dinner before I make a meal out of you, my greedy little girl.” 

With a pout you follow him out the door but when he wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your neck in the elevator on the way down you melt, you were never really upset. “Who says I’ll keep my hands off you, hermosa,” he murmurs, “the restaurant is really dimly lit.” 

…

The place Frankie has picked is a new place you’d mentioned a while back and you squeeze his arm tightly when you realise that he’s made a reservation especially because he knew you wanted to go. He’s even requested a table at the back where the restaurant has a few tables in small window nooks overlooking the river. The waiter seats you and lights the two candles in the windows and in the small hanging chandelier over your heads, casting the whole table in a soft light. 

You sit down in the middle of the plush bench that curves under the windows, and Frankie sits down close to you, rather than opposite. You’re sharing a corner at the table, and even though there’d be more room if you sat at opposite ends, none of you are moving, least of all Frankie. Instead you feel his hand on your leg, slipping up under the edge of your dress, as soon as he sits down. His hand is hidden under the table cloth and although he lets his hand rest on your thigh for now, you’re fairly certain he won’t let it stay there.

The waiter returns to take your orders and while you’re asking about the fish dish Frankie’s fingers start moving, gentle little circles on your thigh but steadily moving up along your leg. You steal yourself to not let his touch get to you while you talk to the waiter, sitting perfectly still in your seat as you ask about the evening’s special. You can feel his fingers creep further up your leg, starting to tickle the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh. From the corner of your eye you can see Frankie innocently studying the menu but you can also see the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. As the waiter finishes with your order he turns to Frankie and as soon as the waiter’s eyes are off you, Frankie squeezes the inside of your thigh. Not hard, but enough to make your limbs clench together as you shudder from the jolt of heat that shoots through you, settling between your legs. Your involuntary spasm makes the waiter look at you again and you pretend to reach for the breadbasket as Frankie struggles to keep a straight face.

As soon as the waiter leaves Frankie turns to you with a mischievous grin and moves his hand further up your thigh. 

“Hermosa,” he purrs as you try to scowl at him, “your skin is so soft and grabbable right here.” He kneads the plush flesh of your inner thigh as you try to ignore the way it feels as he sinks his fingers into you. 

“You’re a menace, Francisco Morales,” you glare and he leans in on the table, propping his chin up with his free hand, so that his mouth is only inches from your lips. He continues to draw shapes on your skin as he looks at you, his face softening into an innocent look, big brown eyes looking at you like he’s only adoring his girlfriend, not slowly moving his hand up to brush the edge of your panties under the table.

“Why would you say that, cariño?” he asks, smiling as you clench your jaw when his finger tips nudges at your legs, beckoning you to spread them, and you obey without hesitation. “Am I distracting you from the nice view?” You scowl at him again but you can’t hide your smile and Frankie closes the last bit of distance between you and nudges the tip of his nose against yours, letting it brush along your cheek as he captures your lips with his. 

The kiss is soft and demure, anyone looking will only see a couple in love sharing a tender kiss, a sweet moment together. Frankie’s free hand takes your hand on the table and your fingers entwine, but under the table his fingertips are slowly brushing over the thin lace in your panties, feeling the dampness his touch is creating. He traces the slit under the fabric and grazes over your clit, making you quake against his lips, and you feel his mouth pull up in a smile. His tongue quickly darts between your lips as the pad of his thumb rubs with more pressure against the spot, pulling a soft moan from you as you lean into him. With a chuckle Frankie pulls away, moving his hand down your leg, and when you open your eyes to protest you see the waiter walking over with your drinks.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, you know,” you mumble and Frankie gives you a look of perfect innocence as he thanks the waiter for the drinks. When he leaves Frankie takes a sip from his beer and over the brim of his glass his eyes crinkle at the corners in a smile. 

“I think I’d like that, cariño, why don’t you try right now?” 

“No, I think I’ll pick a moment you’ll enjoy less,” you smile back at him, taking a sip of your own drink. 

Frankie leans forward, his hand falling below the table again and you quickly cross your legs as his hand touches your knee. 

“Ah, c’mon, cariño,” he coos, caressing the top of your thigh, edging under the hem of your dress again. 

“Keep your hands on the table, Francisco,” you give him a stern look that only makes him grin and scoot closer, leaning in so that he can skate his nose along your jaw, his lips brushing up against your ear, his hot breath tickling you. 

“Mi hermosa,” he mumbles, his lips barely touching your skin, “I want to touch you, feel if you’re as wet as I think you are.” He moves his mouth down and you feel the tip of his tongue slip out and lick across the spot he knows makes you shiver whenever he touches it. “I wanna to feel your sweet pussy tighten around my fingers as you think about what I’m gonna do with my mouth later.” 

His words make your eyes close as a shiver goes down your spine, heat pooling rapidly between your legs. And Frankie knows, he knows exactly what his dirty talk does to you. And now he continues to whisper how he wants to push your dress up over your hips, spread you before him and taste your sweet pussy, all the while his hand gently nudges your legs apart under the table. You feel heat rising in your cheeks as his fingers brush up over the soaked material in your panties. He’s telling you how good he knows you taste, how he loves the feeling of your pussy clenching around his tongue as he pushes into your tight hole. 

“I know you love how my nose rubs against your clit when I bury my face between your legs, hermosa,” he murmurs and you bite your lip to stop a moan escaping. Outwardly he’s still just whispering sweet nothings to you, a loving boyfriend nuzzled against the neck of his love, under the table his fingers have slipped past your panties and are pushing into your pussy, his thick index and ring finger stretching you. You lean forward on your elbows, tilting your head towards him, hiding your face from the room. Frankie’s teeth scrape against your skin as he curls his fingers back inside you, rubbing against the spot he always seems to find so easily. The thrill of him fingering you in public has your cheeks burning, your jaw is clenched tight to stop yourself from panting. Tension is building inside you as Frankie’s breath fans over your skin. 

“Are you gonna come for me, baby?” he whispers, “I wish I could get down on my knees and lick you, tug that sweet little clit of yours into my mouth, make you come on my face just like I did - “

Frankie suddenly pulls back, footsteps approaching your table, his fingers slipping out of you as he sits up. 

“Alright, I’ve got the grilled tuna for the lady and the lamb racks for the gentleman,” the waiter says, placing plates on the table. 

You’ve still got your face turned away, cheeks burning as you calm your breathing. Frankie’s hand comes up and genty cups your chin, a soft smile on his face, as if you say he’s got you, and not at all sorry that he’s got you on the edge of an orgasm in the middle of a crowded Friday night restaurant. 

…

You barely make it to the truck once you're done with the meal. The thrum of your near orgasm is still humming through your body and Frankie’s warm arm around your waist, holding you close, makes you want to duck into an alley and risk getting caught for public indecency. You stop him and cup his cheek, pulling him down for a kiss, letting your tongue slip between his lips as his large hand cups the back of your head. You feel his other hand sliding up your back, pressing you against his chest and you lick into his mouth, tasting him and the chocolate he had for dessert. Heat shoots through your body as he presses his hard on into you, he’s trying to create friction to give himself some relief but the way your body reacts, a low moan slipping out, only makes him harder. With a groan he pulls away, grabbing your hand and almost drags you the last bit to the truck. 

It’s parked on a side street and you pull him against you again when he takes you around to the passenger side. Slipping your hand in between you, you palm his cock through his jeans, Frankie grumbles, dropping his head on your shoulder and letting his mouth kiss your neck.

“I need to get you home, hermosa,” he murmurs, his face buried in your hair. “I wanna get you out of this dress so badly.”

 Letting your fingers trace the outlines through the fabric, you circle around the tip pressed against the zipper and Frankie’s breath hitches, his teeth sinking into your neck, sucking against the skin. Behind your back he opens the door to the truck and manoeuvres you so that he’s got his arms at your waist. With casual strength that takes your breath away he lifts you up, setting you down on the bench seat, and for a second you think he’s going to climb up after you. Instead he stops, one foot up on the step, his gaze dropping to where your knees fall open, he’s got a perfect view and his eyes go dark. His hand grabs your thighs, pushing you further into the truck and pushing them wider, the tip of his tongue comes out and licks his bottom lip, before he tears himself away, looking up at you again and inhales deeply as he steps down and closes the door. 

You can’t help but giggle at the effect you had on him and he notices your smile when he pulls himself into the driver’s seat. 

“What are you giggling about, cariño?” he says, buckling in and starting up the truck. His hard cock is straining against his jeans, and you scoot closer to him, cupping your hand around it. 

“Nothing,” you say, “nothing at all, sweetie,” but you smile when you see his jaw clench as soon as your palm presses against his cock and his voice is strained when he replies.

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna have to park the truck somewhere dark before we get back to my place.” 

“Would you like that, Frankie?” you ask in a low voice, leaning in so that your breath tickles his neck and you see goosebumps break out on his skin.

“If you’re asking if I wanna fuck you in my truck, then, fuck yes. But let's save that for a date where I can do it properly, and not in the corner of some Costco parking lot.” His voice is a dark rumble as he looks over at you, pausing the truck at a stop sign. His unruly curls are creating a halo lit by the street light behind him and it reminds you of the first time you were in his truck. Him driving to the airfield with you and you’re struck by how much has happened since that first day with Frankie. 

“Remember when we were first in your truck together?” you ask, mirroring the gesture you did then, lifting your hand to push it through the soft curls on his head. 

“I do, vividly,” he smiles, leaning into your hand, “I told you to do that again when we weren’t in any vehicles I would crash.” 

“You also said you wanted to kiss me.” 

“I did, and I wanted to kiss you right then, but it took like three more tries before I got my chance.” Frankie chuckles as he puts the truck in drive again. He lifts his arm so that he can put it around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you take your hand from his cock, not wishing to cause any accidents, resting it on his thigh instead. 

“Put your hand back there as soon as we’re inside the apartment, please,” Frankie says, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, making you giggle and squeeze his thigh. Your sexual energy is still thrumming in your nerves but they simmer lower as you lean against Frankie, feeling a different kind of energy in your system. 

This man makes you feel safe, comfortable and wanted. You drop your head against his shoulder, relishing in the way his sheer presence wraps you up in a cocoon of happy content, as if his solid, calm energy makes your body relax and sink into him. Frankie’s own self doubts and nerves never seemed to seep out of him, he pulled them into himself, you could see in his eyes when he was pulled under by his negative thoughts, but the energy he gave to you was always solid, like a rock holding you steady. 

“You’re my rock, Frankie,” you say, as you wrap your arm across his waist, hugging him tightly. 

“Your rock, cariño?” he smiles, dropping his eyes from the road for a second to look at you. 

“You’re solid like a rock, making me feel calm when I’m with you, like you can handle whatever happens and keep me safe.” 

“I don’t know how much of a rock I am, I’ve struggled with keeping myself steady for most of my life,” he says, his voice a little doleful. 

“I know, but somehow you still manage to make me feel like you’re the most stable person in the world.” 

“You mean boring,” Frankie snorts, “should I be insulted?” 

You slap him playfully and shake your head, “Anything but boring, Frankie, just…you make me feel calm, and relaxed, when I’m with you. And happy. Very, very happy.” 

You feel him tighten his arm around your shoulders, “Mi amor,” he mumbles, his lips pressed to your hair as he keeps one eye on the road, “you make me very, very happy too.”

…

The mood changes as you get to Frankie’s apartment, riding up the elevator he nods up at the security camera in the corner and you resort to snuggling into him, keeping everything PG. But the second he’s got you over the threshold he cages you in between his arms against the door, his long body pressed up against yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck as his mouth finds yours. 

“Longest fucking dinner of my life,” he murmurs against you, his hips are flush against your belly and the hard line of his cock twitches between you. “Would’ve pulled you out of there and actually fucked you in my truck if I hadn’t waited three weeks for that reservation.” 

“You’re such a romantic, Frankie,” you smile, grabbing hold of his curls and pulling him back a little so that you can see his dark eyes, his eyelids half closed and a greedy look on his face. 

“Put your hand back on my dick, please, hermosa,” he husks, rolling his hips so that you can feel his cock more firmly. Keeping a hold on his hair so that you can look at him you snake your other hand between you and cup it over the hard bulge in his jeans, stroking it firmly with your eyes locked on his. His lips curl up almost as if he’s in pain and a dark groan slips out between his parted lips as he keeps his eyes on you, his pupils are wide and half hidden under his eyelids. You repeat the motion, adding your nails, rasping them over the bulge and Frankie’s head falls back. 

“Fuuuuck….” he moans, louder this time, “fucking feels so good but I’m about to break the zipper, cariño,” he pants. 

You tug at his hair, “Eyes on me, Francisco.” The use of his full name snaps him back as you palm him again, using your nails, and the look in his eyes sparks something inside you. Leaning in, close to his ear, you nip lightly at his earlobe, pulling a soft gasp from him. 

“Frankie,” you whisper, “do you like it when I tell you what to do?” The groan from deep in his chest is answer enough, and when you lean back, looking at him again, his jaw is clenched and he’s got a strained look on his face. 

“Tell me what to do, hermosa,” he grates out, his hips still against your palm cupped over his aching cock. His eyebrows are tightly knitted, his dark eyes fixed on your as he swallows hard, but he doesn’t move. 

You smile, the thought of having Frankie obeying your orders turns you on more than you thought it would. He’s always in control when you have sex, apart from the last few minutes when he loses himself, pumping into you as he chases his orgasm, he’s always in control. He always makes sure you come once or twice before he thinks about himself, he’s always thinking about how to give you as much pleasure as possible and seems to get as much out of it as you do. But he’s always called the shots, until now. 

“Frankie…” you purr, pulling your hand up from his dick to stroke your fingertips over his patchy beard, “this is new, I can call the shots tonight?” 

“Yes, baby, tell me what you want me to do,” his face is less strained now that your hand isn’t caressing his aching cock but his tone is still a dark groan

“Take me to your bedroom, Frankie,” you say, testing the waters, although this is hardly a difficult one. 

With a swift motion he bends and puts his arm behind your knees, the other at your back, picking you up as your arms wrap around his neck for purchase and he walks through the dimly lit apartment.  

“With the risk of sounding like a cavewoman,” you giggle, “your strength always turns me on, I forget how strong you are until you pick me up like I weigh nothing.”

“Maybe I should pick you up more often,” Frankie grins, pushing open the door to his bedroom. “Tell me, what do you want me to do with you now?” 

“Put me down,” you say and he gently sets you down on your feet and you sit down on the edge of the bed, giving him a mischievous smile. 

“Take your clothes off for me, Frankie.” 

He grins and starts rolling down the sleeves of his white shirt before unbuttoning it, revealing more tanned skin as he moves down. 

“The thing is,” you say, your eyes shamelessly watching him slide the shirt off his wide shoulders, “you’re always in control when we have sex. Making sure I come first, making me come several times before you even let me touch you.” Frankie gives you a proud smirk while his hands undo his belt and slides it out, dropping it on the floor next to the shirt. “And tonight, I wanna do the same to you.” You watch as his hands still, his zipper halfway down. 

“Don’t stop, Francisco,” you tell him. “You take your pants off at the last moment, when you’ve already got me spread out on the bed, coming down from you eating my pussy. I wanna watch you properly this time.” At the mention of him eating you out he narrows his eyes and you see the pink tip of his tongue peek out between his lips, his eyes dropping to the hem of your dress. 

“Maybe later, Frankie, if you’re a good boy,” you smile and his eyes find yours, the greedy look in them almost makes you want to drop your game and let him take control again. But instead you watch him push his jeans down over his narrow hips, catching his socks at the same time as he steps out of them. He stands up, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his snug black boxers, looking at you with his head tilted to the side and a crooked grin. 

“Want me to keep going?” he asks, his eyes crinkling at the corners. 

You bite your lip, it’s hard to keep a straight face when he’s looking so good standing in front of you and he knows you’re cracking. “I didn’t tell you to stop, Francisco,” you manage to press out. 

The boxers are stretched over his rigid cock, doing nothing to hide the sheer size of him or how aroused he is. When you first had sex with him he was a bit self conscious, both about his body and the size of dick. Any qualms about this size you’d dispelled the first time, he knew you loved how he filled you up and you let him know it, loudly. His hang ups about his flat butt and soft belly were harder to dispel, but now he’s standing in front of you without any nerves, confidence oozing from him as he drags his boxers down his hips. He keeps his eyes on you as they slide over his cock, making it jump out as the elastic pulls over the tip. You’re flitting your eyes between his boxers and his face, your tongue peaking out without you noticing, licking your lips as he drops the boxers and strokes himself a few times with languid passes. 

“Lie down on the bed, Frankie,” you order him, standing up so that he can stretch out and lie back. He puts his hands out for you, trying to pull you down on top of him but you smile and slip away from his hands. 

“Patience, Frankie boy,” you purr and swat his hand away from your leg as he grins. 

You’ve still got your dress on and you see his cocky smile fade away as you give him the same view you just got. You’re wearing the black wrap around dress he loves and as his dark eyes watches, you untie it at the waist and let it fall open, pulling the ribbon out of the dress. 

“Hermosa,” Frankie moans, “you’re so beautiful, come here, let me touch you, please.” 

Shrugging it off your shoulders you step back up on the bed and straddle Frankie’s thighs, his hard cock jutting up towards his stomach just in front of you. 

“Not yet, my sweet Frankie,” you coo, “I know you want to taste me, make me come with your face buried in my pussy, but not yet.” 

Frankie’s jaw clenches and you can see his hands grabbing hold of the covers as you sit down. He’s desperate to touch but determined to let you guide him this time. The black lace panties and bra you’re wearing aren’t helping, it’s his favourite set. You’d asked for his advice when you bought it a few weeks ago and his cock had twitched when he thought about seeing you in it, wrapped like a present for him. Now you’re hovering above his erection, wearing that set, leaning down over him as your hand closes around the base. 

“Cariño,” he grumbles with a shiver as your breath ghosts over the head of his cock, it’s already weeping, drops of precum collecting at the slit. “Please…” 

“Please what, Frankie?” you smile, leaning closer to the tip, sticking out your tongue, keeping your eyes on him. His eyes are black, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks at where the tip of your tongue traces the slit of his cock. When you make contact he moans, his hips bucking up involuntarily. 

“Please, hermosa,” he pants, and you lick your tongue over the head, collecting the salty liquid as he groans and bucks his hips again. Your mouth sinks over him and he’s fisting the covers, fighting the urge to grab on to your head, instead he watches as his aching cock disappears between your lips. He can feel the head gliding along the inside of your mouth as you take him deeper, your tongue licking along the length, teasing along the swollen ridges and veins that thrum with heat. Saliva drips from your mouth, down over his cock and you use it to slide your hand up and down him, easing the friction over the part that’s not in your mouth. 

Heat is building fast in his belly, your mouth is a hot vise around his cock, taking more and more down your throat as he gasps and groans, screwing up his eyes when he can’t watch, when he gets too close to coming. He’s rambling as he shivers underneath you, praising your mouth, your tongue, your hands. When your nose brushes against the wiry curls at the base of his cock, the head bumping the back of your throat, he cries out, begging you for release. 

“Please, you’re so good to me, let me…oh fuck you feel good,” he stutters, his voice catching as you close your mouth around him, dragging your lips along his length as you increase the pressure.

“Fuck…your mouth…hermosa, your mouth, make me come, let me come in you.” He opens his eyes again, looking down at you as you sink your mouth down over him again, you can taste his precum on your tongue, more of it leaking out. 

His hips are jerking up, he’s breathing fast as he whimpers and you lift your eyes to him, meeting his gaze. Seeing him like this, his mouth hanging open as he whines, looking wrecked, he screws his face up as if he’s in pain, makes you shudder, your panties are soaked, every one of his moans and whines going straight to your core. 

You sink down deeper over him, your tongue licking every inch of him as you take as much as you can, letting his cock brush against the back of your throat again as you move your mouth up and down his length, stroking the slick base with your hand coated in his precum and your saliva. 

Frankie lets out a broken growl, “fuck, cariño, ple…please…I’m gon - “ his stuttering turns into shout as you feel the first burst of thick liquid coat your tongue, he’s jerking his hips, his hands fly from the sheets and tangle in your hair as he pumps himself upwards, your mouth closing tight around his pulsating cock, milking his spend as it shoots out of him. Frankie’s whole body tenses up, his back arching off the bed, the corded tendons on his neck stretch and tremble when he throws his head back, a cry as if he’s in pain tearing itself from his throat. 

You continue to stroke him through his climax, looking up at him, seeing his throat strain as he pants, groaning through his high. His thrusts grow slower and you let your mouth drag along him, softening your lips as you let him pump the last of himself over your tongue, ending with a small kiss on the tip of his sensitive head. He relaxes and looks down at you again, seeing your mouth come off him and you wipe the back of your hand over your mouth. 

“Help, I can’t move,” he groans softly and you smile at him as you crawl up his body and lie down in his arms. 

“I liked that,” you say, wrapping an arm over his chest as he pulls you in close. “I see why you like eating my pussy first, it’s a rush to have that power.” 

“Don’t get used to it, cariño,” Frankie smiles, “I’m not giving it up so easily.” 

“I’ll get Benny to teach me how to bark orders like in the military, you seem to like me bossing you around.” 

“Only because I let you,” he pokes his finger into your side, “I wanted to see if you had it in you.” 

“Bullshit!” you splutter and almost sit up, but Frankie’s arm tightens around you and pulls you back down. “The second I used your full name you caved.” 

“I hated hearing my full name in the army, it meant I was in trouble. But when you say it, cariño lindo…I melt.” 

“I know, Francisco Morales,” your giggle turns into a squeal when he suddenly grabs your arms and flips you over. 

“Ahora, mi hermosa,” he murmurs as he sinks his mouth to your neck, “now it’s your turn.”

Chapter 8

[standfucker]

More Than Enough

Extremely belated birthday gift for @nekomacheercaptain, thanks for being a great friend these past few months! Hope it was worth the wait, thanks for your patience!

Characters: Rosinante

Reader: Cis Fem

Word Count: 11,898

CW: fluff, explicit N.SFW content, established relationship, lots of smooches, shy reader, chubby reader, lil bit of soft dom Rosi, body worship, praise, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving,) fingering, vaginal penetration, size difference, size kink, big insertion, belly bulge, slight bit of hurt/comfort, reader does not finish but has a great time so it’s all good

Summary: When Rosinante discovers that your birthday's coming up, he does what he can to make it special.

Ao3 Link

“Y/n? Are you okay?”

Rosinante’s call of your name pulls you out of your thoughts. You blink, now back in reality, and look his way. At this distance, you can see his concerned frown under the red paint, pointed opposite of the harlequin curves.

“Hm? Oh, I’m fine,” you reply quietly.

“You seem distracted.”

His eyes are soft. It’s not something you would ever see around the family. To the outside world, they are cold and aloof, all out of necessity. But the way he looks at you in private–it’s like he’s a completely different person.

All Rosinante had done was comment on the date, and you had gone quiet, a realization setting in that you didn’t know how to feel about. Knowing the stakes as you do, this long after he had divulged his secret to you, it seems trivial. Now that you’re both playing this deadly game of pretend under Doflamingo’s nose, what does it matter?

You play with the hem of your sleeve, thumb sliding across the worn threads for stimulation and comfort, a nervous habit. Rosi’s eyes settle on your busy fingers. He knows it means you’re agitated, you’re pretty sure. He’s frighteningly observant.

“It’s nothing, really,” you try to dismiss, hoping to avoid the conversation altogether.

Rosinante hesitates, unsure if he should pry. He hates making you uncomfortable, but you can tell he wants you to confide in him–he told you as much, after all, those many months ago when he revealed his voice.

“I’ve told you my secret. In exchange, you tell me yours, and we’ll call it even.”

Guilt stirs uncomfortably in your chest. Rosinante had long since earned your trust, hadn’t he? He would probably want to know.

“It’s just… It’s my birthday tomorrow,” you finally admit. “I completely forgot about it, to be honest, until just now when you mentioned the date.”

His reaction is as you feared–shock slowly morphing into excitement, his lips curling up to match the direction of the face paint. He starts to speak.

“We should do somethi–”

“No!” you cut him off, surprising you both. Then you cringe at your outburst, giving him an apologetic look. “Sorry! I’m sorry. I just… I don’t know. Birthdays can be a weird time for me. I don’t know that I want to celebrate.”

His face falls. “Oh.”

The disappointment in that little ‘oh’ reinforces the guilt. You try not to overthink it–you’re too tired from the mission Doflamingo assigned you two to let minor stresses pile up now. At least you and Rosinante had finished up early. There were still two more days until you were scheduled to meet the Numancia Flamingo, from which you would be sailing to the next island, only a day’s travel away. 

For now, you took temporary refuge in a recently-abandoned house on the outskirts of town. It meant that for the next 48 hours, neither you nor Rosinante had to pretend. He seemed aware of the shrinking span of time you had left, because he had been touchier since the mission ended, even for him.

“It’s just…” Rosi takes your hand, dwarfing it in his. His thumb sweeps over your knuckles, his go-to gesture when you’re anxious.  “I want to do something for you.”

“I knew you would,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, because of course he would. He cares fiercely, as you've come to find out, for his loved ones–and somehow, somewhere along the line, you'd become one of them. It’s only natural he’d want to celebrate. And while you don’t know if you have the mental energy for an outing tomorrow, you wonder if you can make a compromise. Indulge him in indulging you.

“Spend time with me?” you suggest. “Just me and you staying in tomorrow, keeping each other company, doing absolutely nothing. That would be more than enough.”

That was what you needed. To relax for a day, to have no expectations, to give your nerves time to come down. Having Rosinante by your side for that seems like a pretty good birthday gift to you.

“You want to do nothing?” he questions, uncertain.

“Yep.” 

Uncertainty turns to thoughtfulness. You know he’s tired, too.

“...I suppose we have earned a break.”

Rosinante holds you close when you go to bed that night, one huge arm across your torso tucking you against his chest like you're a stuffed animal. Your hands come to rest on his arm. He’s solid and warm against your back, bringing a sense of safety you’d never really felt in your life before knowing him.

With privacy among the family nearly impossible to find, you soak in each other’s presence as much as you can in these rare opportunities. He kisses the top of your head before settling, and you squeeze his arm in response.

“I love you,” he says sleepily.

That has you twisting in place, rolling over to face him. Even in the dark, you can clearly see those soft eyes looking down at you fondly.

Why? A part of you wants to ask. But you don’t. There will be plenty of time for doubts once you’re back around his brother. Right now, it’s just you, Rosinante, and the delicate, wild thing that’s bloomed between you this past year. Candid, honest, and trusting. The ‘why’ doesn’t matter.

So you say, “I love you too,” and you look into those adoring eyes of his when you do, to let him know you mean it.

Even as tired as he is, Rosinante’s smile is bright and giddy, more like a schoolboy whose crush held his hand rather than a three-meter tall grown man. He bends down to kiss you, and you stretch to meet him, freeing your arms from between your bodies so you can hold his face to yours.

He's holding you almost too tightly as he falls asleep, but the pressure is soothing, and once he dozes off, his grip loosens. You both tend to move in your sleep, you more so than him, so you’re not surprised to no longer be in contact when you wake the next morning. But when you reach your arm out to the other side of the bed, seeking his warmth, you find that it’s empty.

You sit up, right in time to hear the front door open. On instinct, you get tense, battle-weary nerves anticipating a possible enemy. But then you hear a thump, followed by Rosinante’s yelp, and you know all is well.

As you’d expected, a single night’s sleep wasn’t enough to ease your tension after the stresses of the mission. You’re still tired as you stretch and rise, briefly debating on just going back to sleep but deciding you wouldn’t rest as well without Rosinante there anyway.

You find him in the kitchen. There’s a bag with crumpled take-out boxes on the table, likely smashed during his fall.

“Good morning,” Rosinante says merrily, rubbing a new sore spot on his head. “Happy birthday!”

Right. Your birthday. The momentary blank look on your face makes Rosi chuckle.

“Did you forget again?”

“Um… Maybe?” you say sheepishly, pulling out a chair to plop into.

“Well, I didn’t,” he says, his proud look turning into a slight cringe when he removes the crushed boxes from the bag. He slides one over to you. “Got us breakfast. Should be intact.”

The boxes have the logo of what must be a local diner. Inside is a stack of heart-shaped waffles. Thankfully, being flat, they survived the fall without being ruined. There’s little containers of butter and syrup inside with them, upturned but miraculously still closed.

“Oh, it smells so good!” Your mouth is already watering–restaurant food was always a welcome change from boat food. “Thank you, Corazon! I was so drained from this week, I didn’t even think about what we’d eat today.”

“Sure." He beams at your response, proud of himself again. “We can figure out lunch and dinner later.”

After breakfast, you check on the laundry you had hung up the day prior. Sweat, dirt, blood–not a trace of the mission remains on them. Washing the bloodstains out of clothing by yourself had always felt sinister, like you were covering up your crimes. Doing it next to Rosinante, for some reason, was different. With him, it felt more like a cleansing ritual–sitting side by side, working to return your attire, and by extension, yourselves, to a state of normalcy. Afraid he would get the stain remover into his eyes somehow, you had forcibly taken over for him. After some initial protesting, he acquiesced, sitting you in his lap as you worked, his arms loosely wrapped around your waist.

Everything is dry except for Rosinante’s black feather coat, the thick material still damp to the touch. There are spots along the shoulders where the feathers are scratchy and stiff from having been singed, but the rest is soft. You run your hand over it, then lean in to sniff the garment without really thinking about it. Even having been washed, it still smells like him, a comforting mix of his natural scent and nicotine.

“Is it dry?”

Rosinante’s voice behind you makes you jerk away from the coat, face flushing warm. His goofy smile and the dusting of pink on his cheeks tells you that you’ve been caught.

“N-No, it’s not,” you say quickly. “Might be a while before it is, so try not to get that one dirty again soon…”

Rosinante’s smile widens, playful. “I guess that detergent smells pretty good, doesn’t it?”

The detergent you had on hand last night was unscented. He’s messing with you. 

“Cora…” The heat creeps further up your cheeks.

“All sweet and floral,” he continues.

“Cora.”

“Or is it the cigarette smell you like?”

“Rosinante!” you say firmly.

He rubs the back of his neck, grinning apologetically. “Sorry, love. I’m done.” 

The teasing is relatively new, something he didn’t start doing until you became fully comfortable with each other. You’re not used to it yet. It’s a bit frustrating how easily it gets to you, but you also know that on the rare moments you get the nerve to tease him back, he falls apart worse than you do.

Rosinante starts heading your way, but hesitates at the clotheslines strung across the yard. They’re at chest height to him, perfect to get tangled up in. You shake your head as you take down the last of the dry garments. At least he’s self-aware. (If only it was enough to prevent accidents.) You approach him so he doesn’t have to take the risk, and he holds his arms out, offering to take the clothes off your hands.

Rosinante's blushing when you set the bundle in his arms, and he doesn’t move right away, looking down at you with a bashful grin.

“What is it?” you ask.

“I like when you call me Rosinante.”

It’s not the first time he’s told you that, but you still get a bit flustered, averting your eyes like you haven’t slept together before. The last time he said that, he added, “but it can’t become habit,” concerned that it would potentially give you two away if it slipped out in front of the family.

This time, he must not be worrying about it, because he adds in a lower voice, “I like ‘Rosi’ even better.”

That makes you heat right back up again, and you fidget in place. “I thought you said you were done,” you mutter, poorly suppressing a smile. 

“Ah, that’s right! I’m sorry. You’re just so cute, it’s hard to help.”

You shove your face into the pile of clothes he’s holding to hide the furious blush that must be tinting your skin, muffling your whine. “Rosi…”

“There it is.” He leans over and kisses the back of your head. “Mwah~! Come on, let’s go inside.”

Rosinante insists on folding the laundry, since you did most of the washing. He sits down to work, and you drape yourself against his back, your arms hanging over his shoulders and your face buried into his neck. He’s so tall compared to you that you have to be standing up to do so.

“Aren’t you tired, baby? You don’t wanna sit?” he asks.

“I’m good here,” you mumble, more than content to be close. 

Taking advantage of the fact that your heads are currently level for once, Rosinante turns his head to kiss you, first on your nose, then your cheek, working his way down with soft pecks. Your giggle is cut off when he reaches your lips, his eyes fluttering closed. Responding eagerly, you angle your head for better access, making him hum in satisfaction.

“Don’t let me distract you, Rosi,” you whisper.

“How can I not be when you’re right here?” he whispers back. “Radiant as a star, with none of the family around to disturb your light.”

Given your eye bags and messy hair, you’re not sure where he’s getting ‘radiant,’ but at the same time, you understand–you’ve seen him dirtied, bloodied, and exhausted and still especially found him attractive. But you're not used to such compliments, no matter how often he gives them. The flattery is always overwhelming, because no one's really spoken to you that way before him.

At your doubtful look, Rosinante opens his mouth to add something. You know it's going to be more praise, and you're already blushing, so you shut him up with a kiss, small hands holding his face to pull him right back in.

At some point while he’s folding clothes, you’re suddenly hit by the domesticity of it. In another life, this could be your reality: Mundane. No stakes. No risking your life. Just the day-to-day upkeep that you would share, together. Maybe it’s still possible someday. Maybe, if you’re lucky, this could be your future. You hold him a little tighter at the thought, and his sigh of contentment is like warmth in sound form, melting away doubts and worries.

All that the prior house occupants had left behind in the pantry are an unopened jar of coconut oil, a tin of stale crackers, and some half-empty spice containers, so despite your initial plan to stay in, the two of you decide to go into town for lunch. The weather’s nice for an outing anyway, sunny and temperate with a light breeze. You hold hands as you walk and discuss your plans, settling on getting lunch from a restaurant and then buying some groceries to make dinner yourselves. 

You’ve finished with lunch and are walking to the market when a storefront catches your eye, the rows of transponder snails sitting by the window standing out. They’re arranged in a neat display, though their purpose isn’t immediately obvious, as it doesn’t look like a typical snail-breeding operation. Rosinante encourages your curiosity, and the both of you duck into the store to see what’s going on. The clerk is happy to explain–the snails are actually visual transponder snails available to rent, each one having memorized three films they can project. It’s your first time seeing such a service, and you can’t help but be impressed as you browse the options, each snail resting next to a card with its films listed.

“Three entire films, huh?” you muse, picking up one of the snails and scratching along its shell until it purrs. “That’s pretty impressive. Aren’t you neat, you cute little thing?”

The snail withdraws slightly into its shell, eyestalks still poking out, but it won’t look at you, which makes you giggle. “Aww, Cora, I think it’s shy.”

Rosinante glances at the store clerk, currently a ways away but still within earshot, and then snaps his fingers, creating a small bubble of silence around the two of you. At this point, you recognize the ability when it manifests, though you don’t know why he chose to use it right then, especially so close to a civilian.

“It reminds me of someone,” Rosinante says cheekily, clownish grin stretching when you predictably get flustered. 

So he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of the clerk, but still felt that teasing you was necessary enough to risk being seen using his power? Before you can come up with a clever retort or admonishment, however, he drops the bubble, forcing you to keep it to yourself lest you sound like a crazy person. You try to communicate your disapproval with a pointed look, which promptly fails on account of your blush and only serves to make him chuckle.

After you pick out a snail and continue on your way to the market, you’ve calmed down enough that your stern expression actually comes off as stern.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you chide, “taking such a risk just for the sake of teasing me. Really, Corazon…”

“Well, I won’t be able to once we meet up with the family,” he says casually, “I’m trying to get it all out of my system while I can.”

“Is that even possible for you?” you joke as you side-eye him, knowing full well that Rosinante can be a bit… unhinged, at times.

That harlequin grin returns. “Maybe not, but I don’t think you mind nearly as much as you act like you do.”

There was that keen observation of his again. Sometimes you could be apprehensive over just how well he knew you. But other times, on those long nights where you were stuck deep in your own head, and he would just know without you saying a thing, and he would come to your side and wordlessly hold you close–those times reminded you that this was what trust was supposed to be like. Even if a small, dark part of you kept waiting to be taken advantage of, it never happened.

“Even so,” Rosinante adds, “if it’s too much, you know, just say the word. I’ll stop.”

A sharp swell of gratitude in you threatens to form tears, and you look away from him, taking a deep breath to hold it in. What did you do to deserve him? To show you’re not upset, you squeeze his hand, but he still picks up on your distress, lightly returning the pressure.

“Y/n?” he questions.

“I’m okay.” You compose yourself with another breath and smile up at him. “I love you, Rosi. That’s all.”

Rosinante’s cheeks turn a shade of pink that matches the hearts on his shirt. Then, breaking out into a delighted grin, he picks you right off of the ground in a tight hug. You immediately wrap your arms and legs around him in turn, both of you giggling.

“As hard as the mission was,” you say, “I’m glad it was just us two. I’m glad I don’t have to spend my birthday with anyone else.”

“Me too.” Rosinante kisses your cheek, and you push him away half-heartedly.

“You’ll smear your paint again.”

“So what?”

“We’re trying not to stand out, remember?”

His huffy pout is so childish it makes you giggle again. 

“You’re right…”

After you return to the house and put the groceries away, you spend the next hour or so unwinding from the trip. There’s a bookshelf in the living room with a variety of paperbacks, so you take advantage, each picking out one that looks interesting. Rosinante manages to knock the entire bookshelf over somehow, getting pelted by a small avalanche of books. Once you help put them away, the two of you curl up against each other to read on the rather large couch in the living room, big enough to hold even his bulk. The exhaustion from the previous week still lingers, as you both end up falling asleep, you leaning on his broad chest and soothed by the lullaby drumming of his heartbeat.

When you wake up next, you finally feel refreshed. Coming back to consciousness to the feel of his large body against yours is a soul-deep comfort, one you wish you could enjoy more often. If only you didn’t have to hide your relationship… You idly trace formless shapes on his chest, mulling the thought over like you have hundreds of times before, and he begins to stir.

The slight movement draws your attention. Rosinante had passed out hard enough to drool a bit in his sleep, and as you reach up to wipe it from his chin, he grabs your wrist, pulling your fingers to his lips to kiss them sleepily.

“Rest well?” you ask, smiling.

“Mm. Always do, when I’m with you,” he responds, kissing your palm next.

You sigh. “Cora…”

“Something on your mind?” He lowers your hand so he can fix his marigold eyes on yours, searching and curious.

You hesitate, mustering up the courage to share your thoughts. “I was just thinking… If we revealed to Doffy that we’re seeing each other, maybe we could be close more often. Share quarters instead of sneaking around. We could have this every night…”

Rosinante sits up, shifting you to sit onto his lap. He’s pensive, frowning slightly, the look alone making anxious nerves unsettle your stomach. As always, though, he notices, rubbing soothing circles on your lower back to show he’s not mad.

“I have thought about that,” he says after a minute, “but I want to save that information.”

“Save it?”

“As my brother gains momentum, the stakes only continue to rise, as do the risks we take. If we are ever out doing something conspiratorial against him, and, god forbid, he catches wind of it… I want to be able to use our relationship as an alibi. So I can tell him that we were just trying to hide that we’re dating.“

So that was his plan. Moments like these were a sobering reminder of his true nature–ever the cautious spy, strategically manipulating any and all information available to him. You imagine Doflamingo’s response to hearing that. After years spent in his service, it’s not difficult–you can picture his demonic grin clearly in your mind, and how it would widen upon the revelation. ‘A relationship? Why would you hide such a thing from me, dear brother?’

“He’d question why you went to lengths to hide that.”

“But he knows you,” Rosinante says, wiping the drool from his chin with the back of his hand. “He knows you’re shy, and he’s still under the impression I’m reserved. It might be enough to convince him. On the off chance that it could save us…”

You nod, if a bit reluctantly. “I understand.”

His smile is wistful, at first, before he puts on a more confident front, bending over to press his forehead to yours. “I’ll find ways to be close to you, Y/n. No matter what. Okay?”

“Okay.” You cup his face, mindful not to smear the paint, and he wraps his arms around your back. You both stay like that for a while, like you can combat an uncertain future by figuratively and literally holding onto each other. And maybe it’s just because you’re head-over-heels for him, but sometimes, his embrace feels a lot like hope.

You make dinner for the both of you, outright refusing to let him help, knowing no good can come of him being around open flames or knives. After eating, you set up the video transponder snail, settling on the couch to watch the films. By then, Rosinante’s coat has fully dried, and he lets you curl up in it, more like a massive blanket in comparison to your body. He must get a kick out of seeing you practically drowning in the fabric, because he can’t stop giggling to himself as he tucks it around you.

Having not been familiar with most of the films advertised at the store, you had picked out the snail at random. The first film turns out to be enjoyable, a lighthearted but thrilling espionage flick that Rosinante can’t resist making comments on.

“That’s not how that works…”

“It’s just pretend, Rosi.”

“Still-!”

The both of you are lying down by the time the second film starts, your back to his chest, his hand resting on your hip. You’re not really paying this film much attention, focused more on the soft joys of the present: his scent surrounding you, the heat of his body that you can feel even through the coat, the sense of safety you get from being in proximity.

Rosinante must not be paying attention to the film, either, because after a while, he noses into your hair and breathes in deep. A moment later, his lips press to the back of your neck.

“Mm…” You shift a bit. “Rosi?”

“I know you said you don’t want to celebrate your birthday, but…” He doesn’t pull away from your neck to speak, and you can’t tell if the goosebumps that result come from the tickling of his lips on your skin or his deep baritone in your ear. “Can I make you feel good?”

A pulse of excitement runs through you at the husky intent in his voice, but it’s quickly tempered by doubt. It’s not like you haven’t done it before, but you’re self-conscious regardless, since…

“You know I won’t be able to finish,” you remind him. 

It kills you that because of your issue, Rosinante can’t even do that much for you. He’s well acquainted with your struggle by now, and while it’s never stopped him from seeking this type of closeness, you still feel guilty. But it’s like he can sense your shame, because he kisses the back of your neck again as if to soothe your worries.

“That’s okay,” he murmurs. “So long as you enjoy yourself.”

That swell of gratitude returns in full force, rising in your chest along with such a strong surge of love that it almost hurts. You roll over to face him. He’s already blushing from the proposition, and you feel the heat start to crawl up your own cheeks.

“I love you so much,” you confess. “Yes, Rosi, you can. I… I want it. I want you…”

That giddy schoolboy grin returns for a moment, and then it changes, becoming something far more subdued and adult, his eyes half-lidding as he cradles your face in both hands.

“Then you’ll have me.”

Rosinante kisses you softly at first, pacing himself like he’s committing the feeling to memory. Then you grab onto the open collar of his shirt, and the tug of fabric triggers something in him, arms wrapping around you as he brings a heat that wasn’t present in any of the sweet kisses throughout the day. You can sense the change, his intent seeming to flow directly into your veins from his mouth like venom, burning you up in a good way. He’s measured, even restrained when he swipes his tongue along the seam of your mouth, only for his breath to hitch when you reciprocate, you parting your lips to curl your smaller tongue around his. His resulting moan comes from deep in his gut, stirring heat in yours.

Without breaking the kiss, he lets go of your face in order to peel his coat off of you, tossing it out of the way and swallowing your little noise of protest before his hands are right back on you, pulling you even closer. You reach up to grab the tails of his hat, eagerly pressing your body against his as you return everything he gives you.

Breaking for air lets him get a good look at your face, flushed and panting, and he curses at the sight of his face paint smeared across your swollen lips.

“Fuck, Y/n… Seeing my paint all messy on you–it does things to me,” he admits breathlessly, pupils blown wide.

“I could say the same,” you smile, as his is smudged just as badly. It would look ridiculous if it wasn’t so hot.

Rosinante kisses you again, open-mouthed and passionate. Given that he’s larger in every way, all parts of him proportionate to his height, even his tongue is that much bigger, filling up your mouth when he thrusts it past your lips. You moan around his tongue, and again when his large hands start to roam your body, greedily feeling you up. The tails of his hat aren’t sturdy enough for your liking, so you pull it off his head and bury your fingers directly into his hair, gripping the blond locks tightly enough to make him groan into your mouth. He starts to kiss and nibble along your jaw, muttering huskily in between each one.

“Could smear it elsewhere,” kiss, “could smear it all over you,” nip, “d’you want that, baby girl?”

“Ah! Rosi, y-yes! Please!”

His low chuckle sends a spike of heat between your legs, another one following when he rolls you onto your back, hovering over your form. “There’s my good girl.”

You whimper at the praise as Rosinante kisses his way down your neck, gliding his hands up and down your sides before hooking them under the hem of your shirt. He peels it up with reverence, like he’s unwrapping a long-anticipated gift, slow and methodical. You raise your arms to help him remove it, then undo the clasp of your bra yourself, figuring he’d only struggle with his large fingers. You let him remove your bra the rest of the way, too, knowing he enjoys disrobing you, though feeling a wave of embarrassment at how he sucks in a breath once your breasts are exposed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, awestruck, and you can’t help but cover your face. He always acts like he’s never seen you naked before.

Rosinante pulls your hands away, kisses you with tongue, then replaces your hands where they were, making you giggle. Then he presses his face between your breasts with a muffled sigh, enjoying the feel of your body for a moment before he shifts himself lower, mouth leaving a stripe of red down your front until his head rests on your stomach. His fingers sink into the doughy flesh of your hips, and you tense only for a moment before relaxing.

“You okay, baby?” he checks in.

“Mhm,” you assure him, “feels good.”

By now, you were used to how Rosinante reacted to your body, but the first time you had been intimate, you froze up at his touches.

“It doesn’t bother you?” you had asked him as he kissed your hip, trailing his lips along a stretch mark.

“Hm?” His eyes, glassy with lust, flicked up to meet yours, making you shiver. “Does what?”

“My, um…” Unable to say it, you grabbed your stomach to illustrate your point.

Rosinante followed your gaze down to your hands. There was a beat where he just blinked, unsure of what you meant, before his eyes widened with realization. Then he blushed even deeper. Tentatively, his hands came to rest over yours on your stomach, and then he gently pulled them away so he could lay his head there instead. 

“Silly girl…”

The way he said it, like he was in on something you weren’t, went straight between your legs. He let go of your hands so he could lecherously squeeze at your thighs again.

“You have no idea…” he whispered, and kissed your stomach with the same veneration of one kissing the foot of a revered statue. “...No idea what you do to me.”

Finding out he liked it–once you got over the initial shyness–had been a major confidence booster, even if it veered on overwhelming at times. Rosinante’s size may have made you weak-kneed if you dwelled on it too much, and his hidden gentleness had its draw, of course, but the sexiest thing about him was just how into you he was.

His lips press to your stomach the same way they did that first time together, and thanks to the sheer size of him, the purr in his throat sounds more like a growl.

“You’re so soft, Y/n…” His tongue dips out to taste your skin.

“Ah!” You squirm. “Rosi-!”

Rosinante’s grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place. “Can’t get enough…” He licks his way to the top of your hip, where he starts sucking a bruise that has you whimpering. His hands travel lower to wrap around your thighs, and then, without warning, he suddenly drags you further beneath him, so his head is level with your neck, handling you like the tiny thing you are in comparison. You gasp at how easy it is for him, and again, breathier, when his lips touch your shoulder.

He’s gotten bolder in bed. You would have never imagined it from how cautious he was your first few times together, but Rosinante was keen. This long into your relationship, he’d zeroed in on what you liked–not that you made it all that difficult, reacting rather strongly whenever he manhandled you a little. Sure enough, between that and his earlier kisses, you already feel yourself growing slick.

“Soft,” he repeats, kissing your skin. “Sweet.” His mouth skims along your shoulder until he’s at the curve of your neck. “Like something to be eaten…” He bites into the tender flesh, drawing a moan from you.

“Rosi,” you whine, a little gasp escaping when he starts sucking on the spot. “Mm-! Please! D-Don’t tease me!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mutters, then promptly contradicts his words with another gentle bite.

“Rosi!”

“Sorry, baby girl… Hard to help when it makes you sound like that.” He kisses your neck in apology. “I’ll take care of you, promise...”

True to his word, Rosinante pushes you back up the couch so he’s positioned over your hips this time. The removal of your pants and underwear is treated with the same careful devotion that he did your shirt, savoring the act almost as much as what will follow. He doesn’t hesitate once you’re fully nude, immediately kissing your mons despite the soft curls of hair, then kissing your outer lips, groaning with heady anticipation.

“Spread your legs for me,” he directs, the command making you throb. There's something immensely appealing about knowing he could easily do it himself, but having you do as he says anyway. He sucks his lower lip between his teeth when you comply, entranced by the display. “Oh, good girl, so pretty. I’m so lucky…”

Before you have a chance to react shyly to that, he dips his head and licks a broad stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit, and your back arches at the electric contact, a small cry slipping out.

“So wet for me,” Rosinante moans. “Tell me if you need to stop, okay?”

With that, he dives back in, warming you up with slow, persistent licks, large tongue spread flat against your entire slit. Only a few seconds in and you’re already whimpering and squirming, prompting him to hook his muscular arms around your thighs to hold you still. The strength in his grip is almost as intoxicating as his enthusiasm, all the shrewd composure he’s forced to uphold for his mission gone, not even an afterthought when presented with the opportunity to indulge himself. He’s like a different person when he’s between your legs, usual modesty replaced by something carnal and hungry.

Rosinante eats you out like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance, shameless and thorough, deftly weaving his tongue between the folds of your inner lips before suckling on them. He gives quick, toying flicks of his tongue along your entrance, teasing the idea but not yet penetrating, and you can’t stop yourself from thrusting slightly into his mouth, which makes him tighten his grip on you.

“Oh-! Oh! Rosi!” you whine, unable to escape the blissful onslaught, fingers digging uselessly at the couch.

He’s noisy about it, too, not just because of the wet, messy slurping, but because he won’t stop moaning against your cunt, like he’s on another plane of being. While he claimed to be doing this for you, you suspect, even despite how incredible it feels, that he’s the one getting more out of this. He doesn’t let up for a single moment. You’re not sure how he’s breathing.

From the very start of your sexual relationship, Rosinante has always had a natural aptitude for giving head, and he’s only gotten better with time. He reads your body effortlessly, attentive nature serving him well for the task, knowing when to be consistent and when to switch it up. He’ll lick in one direction for a while, then, right before you become used to it to the point of the pleasure diminishing, he’ll change direction, interspersing with a new sensation that has your toes curling.

Once he’s decided you’re warmed up enough, he starts being more precise, using the tip of his tongue for more pinpoint stimulation in between the steady, rhythmic licks. Then he licks a long stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit again, except this time, he finishes by circling around your engorged clit. You arch deeper, if possible, as you cry out, burying your fingers in his hair and tugging hard, and he moans even louder. There’s a brief pause where he takes a breath–more of a gasp of your name, really–and then he’s buried his face between your legs again, focusing his attention on your clit, flicking and lapping his tongue at it like it’s his goal to get you to pull his hair out. Your noises, your writhing, the slight pain of your grip on his hair, all of it drives Rosinante mad, self-control slipping as he starts to buck his hips into the couch now and then while he goes down on you.

Right as the attention to your clit becomes too much, he snakes his tongue down and finally penetrates you, licking and undulating along your walls. Thrusting as deep as he can go, he curls his tongue to collect your slick at the source before drawing it back into his mouth to swallow it down, groaning depravedly at the taste. He never slows down, either, tongue-fucking you with a drive bordering on obsessive.

You’re almost as noisy as Rosinante is, now, hopeless to stop each shaky little whimper and moan of his name that he so expertly coaxes out of you. With his relentless pace and excellent attention to detail, it’s only a matter of time before it all becomes overstimulating.

“Rosi,” you gasp, tapping his shoulder. “Rosi, it’s too much.”

He looks a complete mess when he lifts his head, hair disheveled, mouth and chin shiny with slick and drool, almost no face paint left on him, likely all smeared on your vulva–you’ll definitely need a shower later. With the color and thickness of his hair, his reluctant look reminds you somewhat of a golden retriever that’s been called by its owner to leave the dog park. 

“Just a little more?” he asks with an innocence that has no place being there after how he just ate you out.

You giggle, both at that and because this was supposed to be about you, but you’re flattered that he can’t help himself when it comes to your body. “Give me a minute to recover, first. Then you can keep going. But slow down a bit when you do, okay?”

He rests his head on your thigh. “Whatever you need, baby girl. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

You lay your head back, catching your breath as you come down. Rosinante busies himself with marking up your inner thighs in the meantime, nibbling and sucking one bruise after another while you stroke his hair appreciatively. Once your nerves have settled, you give him the okay, and he wastes no time getting back to work.

Rosinante adjusts his hold on your thighs and drags your body closer, grinding your cunt right against the flat of his tongue as your fingers find their way into his hair again. He doesn’t stop you from rolling your hips into him, encouraging it with a gratified moan. Pleasure builds back up gradually, only to spike too high when he turns his attention to your clit again.

“Slow, Rosi,” you remind him, and he grunts an affirmative, easing up significantly.

One of his arms unhooks from your thigh, large hand squeezing your rear before he slips it between your bodies. As promised, he moves slowly when he penetrates you with a thick finger, but you still arch from the contact–his fingers are so much bigger than yours, and taking his time means the sensation is drawn out that much longer.

“Oh!” Your gasp is only pleasured, but he checks in anyway.

“This okay?”

“Yesss,” you moan, making him chuckle.

Mindful of your sensitivity, Rosinante pumps his finger at a leisurely, unhurried pace, relishing in each of your twitches and cries.

“What a good girl you are, Y/n,” he praises, then licks along the side of your clit, just once. “Letting me do this to you behind closed doors…” His tongue sweeps over your nub again. “You’re sweet all over, aren’t you, baby?”

He keeps from overstimulating you by breaking up each pass of his tongue with praise, until you don’t know if it’s his mouth or his words that’s making your breath catch in your throat.

“Your moans are so cute.”

“I love how you try to hold back…”

“You don’t need to, Y/n.”

“After all… This is all for me.”

“All mine to see, to hear, to taste. My girl...”

Rosinante curls his finger, and you cry his name. He’s gentle but insistent, sparking little pulses of pleasure through your core. It doesn’t build up much, but you ride it as long as you can, until your enjoyment starts to wane and there’s more friction than you’d like.

“Rosi, I–I need a break,” you tap his shoulder in signal, and he withdraws from you.

“You lasted longer that time,” Rosinante notes, then grabs your thigh and drags you underneath him so he’s at eye level with you again. Despite how he moves you as he pleases, he looks at you like you’re an angel gracing the earth. “You taste so damn good… Want me to show you?” He sticks out his tongue devilishly.

You consent by reaching for his face, pulling him in for a messy kiss that tastes of your slick. He probes his tongue deep, making sure to fill your mouth with the slippery tang. You moan softly in approval, and the thought that you like it turns him on so much he’s bucking slightly again in response. If it wasn’t for the significant height difference, he’d be grinding against you, but with your heads currently level, his hips are below your own.

Rosinante growls into your mouth, hands roaming your body to grab and squeeze as he likes. You can feel the rumble of it in your chest, and along with the dizzying taste of your slick and his covetous groping, you find yourself craving even more of him, like the depth of his need has rubbed off on you. Your hand trails down, reaching for his pants, but alas, he’s too damn tall for you to get any further than his abs. He picks up on it, though.

“You want my cock?” Rosinante whispers huskily, thrusting into the couch again.

“Yes, yes, please, Rosi!” you beg, and he grins at your desperation.

“I thought you needed a break.”

“Don’t be mean! It’s my birthday…” A cheap card to pull, maybe, but you’ll say anything at this point to get what you want.

Rosinante chuckles and kisses you, gently biting your lower lip. “Think it’ll fit this time?”

Even after all of his prior attention, the words pool fresh heat between your legs, an anticipatory shudder running up your spine. “Let’s try?” you ask. “Pretty please?”

“Like I could say no to you.” He kisses you again, groaning when you grind your crotch against his stomach. “Just don’t push yourself if it hurts.”

Rosinante’s eyes glaze over as he watches you hastily unbutton his shirt, taken at your impatience and at how avidly you run your hands down the soft fuzz of his chest once it’s exposed. He’s already undone the button of his pants earlier for some relief from the tightness, and there’s a wet spot on the fabric you don’t miss. He takes enough mercy on you to remove his own bottoms quickly, sliding both off in one motion. His cock springs against his stomach, fully hard and leaking, leaving a smear of precum on his abdomen. Like the rest of him, it’s proportionate to his size, far bigger than anything someone your height was probably meant to take. The length and girth would be more intimidating if it was attached to anyone else, but Rosinante was always mindful of your limits, taking the utmost care anytime you attempted penetration. Still, you can only fight the confines of anatomy so much, and as such, there’s only been a few times that you’ve been able to take him, all of which involved the assistance of lubricant.

Rosinante sits up with his back against the couch, and you eagerly straddle him, scooting forward until your clit’s pressed against the base of his twitching cock. The tip reaches past your navel, promising an incredible stretch if you can manage to fit him.

“Take it nice and slow, okay? Don’t force yourself,” he says as he rests his hands on your hips, helping you position yourself over him. He gasps at your touch when you reach to line him up with your entrance, your fingers not meeting even around the head of his dick.

His energy has changed, all earlier lust now controlled under a tight leash, restrained but brimming beneath the surface. You can feel it in the twitch of his fingers on your hips, and in his shaky breathing as he watches you lower yourself onto him. You both let out a breath when the blunt head of him presses against you. The delicate walls of your entrance are gradually spread wider and wider, stretching to accommodate the intrusion. There’s a dull tinge of pain, one that’s not concerning enough to stop you yet. But despite how wet you are from earlier, it’s still not enough to compensate for his girth, and you find yourself unable to get even the head of his cock fully inside without the friction becoming too painful.

Frustration pushes you to try again. You want him badly, you want to be close in this way, you’ve done it before–you know it’s possible. The resulting pain of your attempt shows in your grimace, making Rosi halt your progress with a firm hold on your hips.

“Baby, stop,” he says, one hand coming up to caress your cheek. “It’s not worth it if it hurts you.”

“I’m so close,” you whine. “I know I can do it.”

“You sure?” His thumb strokes your temple. “Listen to your body, Y/n. If it’s too much, there’s no shame in calling it off for today. We can try again next time.”

You make one more valiant attempt with no luck. Since you’ve taken him before, you have an idea of what to expect when it goes right, and this does not feel like one of those times. It just wasn’t going to happen without lube. Sighing, you dismount, trying not to feel too disappointed. Finishing him with your mouth is a fun option, too, but you were looking forward to riding him…

Then you remember something.

“Wait,” your eyes widen in realization, “the coconut oil.”

“Hm?” He tilts his head cutely.

“There was some left behind in the pantry, remember? I’m pretty sure that’s body-safe…”

Rosinante considers it, then shakes his head. “It’s probably contaminated, or expired.”

“I think it’s still sealed.”

“Is it?” He blinks for a moment, like he can’t believe the luck. Then he jumps to his feet with a hastiness that betrays his excitement, only to slip on nothing and fall hard on his ass. Undeterred, he hops right back to his feet, but is stopped by you grabbing his wrist.

“Nuh-uh, you stay here. I’ll get it,” you assert, picturing him retrieving the jar only to wipe out and let it shatter onto the floor. If that happened you might actually cry.

“I understand,” Rosinante says. You meet each other’s eye and immediately know you’re picturing the same thing, making you both break into giggles. Rosinante pulls you in for a kiss before plopping back down onto the couch, his dick bobbing enticingly from the action. “You gonna stare or you gonna hurry it up, then?”

Caught, you can only flash him a playful grin before you dart into the kitchen. (Wandering through someone else’s home nude always feels a bit awkward, but knowing it’s been abandoned helps ease the discomfort somewhat.) The coconut oil is unrefined, thankfully. Bringing it back to the couch, you scan the label to make sure it’s still in date. The lid is stuck tightly enough to prove it’s still sealed, resisting your attempts to open it until Rosinante twists it off in one easy motion that has you staring at his flexing forearms. He sniffs the contents before offering it to you to inspect. It smells light and faintly sweet, and the pure white color along with the smooth consistency reassures you that it’s safe.

You straddle Rosinante again. He’s so broad your legs don’t reach the couch when you do, but his muscular thighs are sturdy enough that it doesn’t matter. He bites back a whine when you start applying the coconut oil, bucking into your hands.

“Oh, shit. Your hands are so warm,” he moans.

“I’m even warmer on the inside,” you joke.

His chuckle breaks into a gasp when your hand passes over the head of his cock. You keep eye contact while you work, reveling in the flushed, needy way he watches you, this giant of a man now putty in your hands.

“You need–mm, fuck–you need some, too,” he pants, dipping two fingers into the jar and prompting you to raise your hips. Slick with oil, both of his thick fingers slip inside you without resistance, causing you to grab his forearm for stability as pleasure buzzes through you like static. He fingers the oil in deep, eyes half-lidding as you grind into his palm. “There you go…”

While Rosinante seems content to watch you fuck yourself on his hand, you have no intention of getting this messy only to not go all the way.

“I’m ready, I’m ready, come on,” you insist, and he curls his fingers teasingly before he withdraws them just to hear you moan. He wipes the excess oil on his hips before grabbing hold of yours, helping you position yourself again.

“Take it slow,” he says softly, watching your face for signs of pain.

The lube makes a world of difference, eliminating that threshold of friction that stopped you before. Holding your breath seems involuntary, an instinctive response to the feeling of your walls gloving the broad head of his dick. The stretch seems endless as you gradually lower yourself, slick flesh sliding past with little resistance until you’re spread impossibly wide around the first few inches. Rosinante reminds you to breathe through gritted teeth, his strained expression telling you just how good it feels. You don’t need the added motivation, plenty resolved to keep going for the euphoric stretch alone, but knowing it’s just as good for him only makes it better. A helpless little whimper falls out as you take a few more inches, holding onto his forearms for support. He’s thicker toward the tip, so once you conquer the first half, the rest is a matter of patience rather than struggle.

“Gods, Rosi,” you breathe, legs trembling as you work your hips in little up-and-down motions to open yourself further. “You’re so big. So big...”

Rosinante moans, head falling back on the couch. “Oh, fuck. Say it again.”

“You’re so big, Rosi!” Your eyes roll back as you sink another inch, his girth stretching you to your very limit until, finally, he’s more or less bottomed out. There are a few inches of him still left out, beyond what you can physically fit, but the fact that you can manage to take the majority of him at all is an amazing feat on its own.

You stay still for a moment, basking in the bliss of being filled near to bursting, the taught stretch of your walls shooting hot pulses of sensation through your pelvic floor without him moving. Even the slight edge pain feels incredible, cutting through the pleasure and keeping you grounded and aware of everything you’re feeling.

“You are warm,” Rosinante says, and even with him essentially in your guts, you can’t help but giggle. He shifts just slightly, but the slick movement inside you has you gasping and clenching down hard, making him groan and tighten his grip on your hips. He bends down to press his forehead against yours, lust morphing his expression into being both broken and ravenous as he looks into your eyes.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands breathily, almost against your lips.

“It feels so good!” you moan without shame. “Rosi, it feels so good.”

“There’s my girl.” He splays his fingers over your abdomen, feeling the distinct bulge of himself through the flesh with a pleased hiss. “You look so damn good like this. Love the sight of you stuffed full of my cock.”

You clench at the words and rock your hips forward, making you both moan in tandem, and again when you start steadily moving up and down his length. His hands on your hips keep you stable, supporting but not guiding your movements, letting you go at your own pace while he mutters filth in your ear.

“Can’t believe you took all of me… What a greedy little cunt you have, Y/n. Such a good girl, opening up for me…”

Rosinante kisses you roughly, drawing messy stripes on your tongue while you fuck yourself on his cock. You try to pay it back once he pulls away, praises spilling from your lips when you have enough presence of mind to do something other than whimper. But where Rosinante can dish it out, it seems he cannot not take it, because after only a few enamored ravings of how big he is and how good he feels, he’s suddenly stuffing two fingers in your mouth to silence you.

“If you keep talking like that, I’ll cum too soon,” he rasps, but it immediately backfires when you start sucking on his fingers, making him twitch and curse. “Fuck! Little demoness, you like that too?”

He’s plugging your mouth with the fingers that were inside you earlier, and maybe it’s just because of the sex high, but the lingering taste of yourself alongside the sweetness of the coconut oil combines into something incredible. You let him know with a moan, sliding the tip of your tongue between and around his fingers as he presses down on the back of it.

Your body’s more adjusted to him now, letting you ride him harder and faster. His gaze flicks between your fucked-out expression, a little drool trailing from the corner of your lips, to the point where your bodies meet, watching himself disappear in your heat. After the rigors of the mission, you can’t maintain the pace for very long, tiring earlier than you normally would–unfortunately, your stamina can’t keep up with your need, but Rosinante always has plenty to spare.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a wet gasp. “Rosi, I need help. Please–”

“I got you, baby girl.”

He adjusts his grip on your hips, getting a more secure hold so he can lead your movements rather than just guide them. The passing of control to him is unspoken, an agreement given with intent gazes instead of words. You feel completely safe in giving yourself to him fully, letting your tired legs relax as he takes over, and in turn, he’s careful in the way he bounces you on his length. He sets a faster pace than how you were taking him, but doesn’t go as hard as you’d like–thankfully, at this point in your relationship, you’re better at communicating your needs.

“Harder, Rosi,” you pant, “I need it harder.”

The brief flash of his grin is your only warning before one of his hands wraps around your thigh and yanks you further down onto him, spearing his length in as deep as it’ll go. The breath is knocked out of you as his cockhead nudges your cervix, but the intensity with which you clamp down on him, along with your full-body shudder, tells him all he needs to know.

“You even like that, huh? You like when I use you like a plaything. Filthy, needy girl…”

You cry out in agreement as Rosinante takes you harder, thrusting up into you while pulling you down to meet his hips. The furrow in his brow and the grit of his teeth indicates he’s close and trying to hold out, tapping into that crazy willpower of his in order to please you for as long as he can. Each deep thrust works you further into a blissful haze, coiling pleasure in your gut until you can barely keep your head up–you can barely do anything aside from moan. He tilts your chin up with one finger, slowing down slightly so he can steal another kiss. Neither of you can maintain it very long with you both breathing heavily from exertion, but you stay close, lips parted and panting against each other.

You go from bracing your arms on his chest, to his shoulders, to raking your nails down the scarred expanse of his arms, feeling the muscles flex beneath your fingers. His gaze is fixed on yours, and you couldn’t look away if you wanted to. Even with his pupils blown wide and his eyes half-lidded, it’s every bit as adoring as it always is in private, but there’s something deeper to it now. It’s in the years of him having watched your back, it’s in the long process that was the gradual lowering of your defenses, it’s in getting to the point you could be so mutually vulnerable, it’s in wanting to make each other feel good out of love and nothing else. You wished you could exist in this moment forever, just to be close in the ultimate way.

No matter how good Rosinante feels, it never builds right. You wish you could cum. You want to experience that with him. But at the same time, you know he won’t be upset with you for it. And so, when you inevitably feel the pleasure start to wane in a way that indicates oncoming discomfort, you feel no shame in speaking up.

“I can’t… Rosi, I can’t go much longer.”

Rosinante immediately slows down. “Want me to stop?”

“No, I–I want you to cum.”

His eyes darken, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Where do you want it, baby girl?”

“Inside.”

You can feel his dick twitch when you say it, and he rests his head on your shoulder with a low groan.

“Fuck. Okay. Sure, I can do that for you.”

Rosinante plants a sloppy kiss on your neck before turning toward the long end of the couch, gently laying you back without pulling out. He repositions you both into a more comfortable missionary, resting his burly arms above you.

“This feel okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, s’good.” You raise a hand to touch his cheek. “This way I can see your face when you cum.”

Got him. It took all day, but you finally turned the tables for once, and the result is a wonderful sight to behold. Even flushed with exertion, the blush across his face deepens to a shade you’ve rarely seen before, his jaw going slack. To his credit, he recovers quickly, bringing a hand to cup yours on his cheek and grinning down at you.

“Guess I deserved that after all of today.” He turns his head to kiss your hand. “I won’t be much longer, but stop me if you need to, yeah?”

“I will.”

“Good girl.”

Rosinante lets go of your hand to trail it down your side, settling on your hip to anchor you in place as he starts thrusting. He’s only slow for the first few thrusts, quickly working himself back up to a firm, brisk pace. Having held out until now, it doesn’t take him long to get back to the edge, evident by the way his groans deepen and intersperse with broken gasps. Just as erotic as the sound of him is the sight of him, abs flexing as his huge body rolls into you. It’s enough to spark your weary nerves back to attention, dragging the pleasure out one last time. 

“Fuck, it’s so good,” he moans, “always so tight, every damn time.”

Rosinante curls over you like he can’t hold himself up anymore, his head pressed to your shoulder, but it doesn’t slow the pounding of his hips at all, nor does it stop him from singing your praises into your ear.

“My sweet girl, so good to me. Love you so much, love that you’re mine…”

The husky devotion with which he says it has you throwing your head back onto the cushions and arching into his thrusts, whimpering when it angles him perfectly into your g-spot. The sound must trigger something in him, because his talking plummets from praise into filth faster than an angel falling from grace.

“You’re right, Y/n. We should tell my brother about us. That way I could fuck you every night, ‘til I’ve molded you to the shape of my cock. You’d get so used to it I wouldn’t need to hold back, and you’d fucking love the process, wouldn’t you? Begging me to fuck your pussy even though you can barely take it. We could even fuck in the room right next him and thanks to my power, he’d never even hear you screaming my name.”

“Rosi!” you cry, throwing your arms over what part of his back you can reach and digging your nails in. “Don’t you dare hold back! Give me everything, right now!”

It’s not a request he’s ever really granted you, but drunk as he currently is on the pleasures of your body–and maybe because it’s your birthday–he relents this once. A deep, uncharacteristic growl rumbles in his chest as his thrusts turn brutal, one arm braced above your head. His other hand’s wrapped around your thigh to keep you from bouncing off him from the force, ironlike grip keeping you in place so he never slips out. For a short but wonderful amount of time, you’re at the mercy of the brunt of him, just like you’d asked. At no other time does the scope of his size come into perspective like when he’s throwing all that weight behind his thrusts, three meters of solid muscle bullying your insides. It hurts a bit, but you’re treated to the incredible sight that is Rosinante on the edge, gritting his teeth and groaning like a beast, completely lost to higher thought.

“Gonna cum,” he gasps, and then he’s chanting your name like a sacred incantation, each time a little louder. His pace stutters, grip on your thigh tightening, and he pulls you down on him one last time, thrusting as deep as he can go and staying there with a penultimate moan. You can feel his length throb and pulse as he releases, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

For a minute, neither of you move, catching your breath and weakly holding each other. Then he pulls out, the absence feeling like a gaping loss as much as a relief. He has just enough presence of mind to collapse next to you rather than on top of you, trembling with what must be little aftershocks. A gentle touch to his cheek grounds him, making him blink and focus on you. He breaks into a dopey grin, pulling you close.

“You’re perfect.” He kisses you softly, all traces of roughness vanished. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You beam, somewhat giddy after having your craving sated so thoroughly. He’s no better off, giggling and kissing you again.

The post-orgasm clarity must hit him around then, because his face suddenly falls, levity turning to concern in an instant.

“Oh, shit! Oh, Y/n, are you okay?” He cradles your face in his hands, inspecting you as if it was your face that endured any of it. “I’m so sorry–I got a bit rough there, and we never went over a safe word–does anything hurt?”

“I’m okay, Rosi!” You cover his larger hands with yours, rubbing your thumbs across the back like he does for you when you’re stressed. “It hurt a little, but I would have stopped you if I didn’t like it.”

That helps him relax somewhat, though the worry doesn’t fully leave him. “Does it still hurt?”

“Not much. Might be sore later. Nothing I can’t handle.”

It takes some more reassurance before he’s satisfied, listening to you soothe his concerns while he massages your hips and thighs. You help each other come down, sometimes with touches, sometimes with soft words, sometimes just holding one another close and listening to the sounds of your breathing. You can only ignore the aftermath for so long, however, in this case being the trickle of his cum down your thigh.

“It is far too late for me to be realizing this,” you say, “but we forgot to put a blanket down, and now there’s stains on the couch…”

“Yeah,” Rosinante says, “I’m gonna be honest. I don’t feel bad at all.”

You snicker. “A pirate’s a pirate, huh?”

“Actually, that’s the Marine side of me.”

“No way. Pirates fuck way more than Marines.”

“I have news for you about shore leave.”

You mirror his grin. “You can tell me all about it, but I’d prefer a demonstration.”

“I bet you would.” He pulls you in for a kiss.

The last movie had long since played and ended without your noticing–thankfully, the snail put itself to sleep after the end of the movie (you sure hope so, anyway.) The shower isn’t large enough to fit both of you, so you take turns, each helping wash the other from outside the tub. While Rosinante’s no worse for wear, you benefit more from the hot water, easing your tension while he runs his hands over your sore muscles in an echo of his earlier worship.

After you’ve both cleaned up, you rehydrate with some tea before bed, sitting in his lap at the kitchen table and talking.

“Rosinante?” 

“Hm?”

You turn in his lap so you can look at him clearly. “Thanks for today. I really enjoyed my birthday. Probably for the first time in a long time.”

His smile lights up the room, and he hugs you tight, pressing his face into your hair. “I’m so glad!”

You giggle. “This is kind of dumb, but I kind of wish I had a cake after all.”

Rosinante pauses. When he lifts his head, his expression is hard to read, some odd mix of contemplative and sheepish that you can’t discern.

“Rosi?” you ask.

“Um…”

“What is it?”

He glances to the side. “...Well… I actually got a little cake this morning, but I dropped the box it was in when I fell… It’s still in the fridge.”

You sit up straighter. “Wait, seriously?”

“Don’t get excited! It’s totally ruined, at least in appearance. Still edible, but I was so embarrassed I didn’t want to say anything…”

You’re sliding off his lap before he finishes his sentence, going to see for yourself. Sure enough, there’s a little box shoved in the back of the fridge that you didn’t notice. It’s bent in a few places, and the clear plastic window on top of the box is smeared on the inside with cream, blocking your view of the damage.

Rosinante covers his face as you open the box. It’s a disaster; the layers of the cake are in different places, the whipped cream frosting is more on the inside of the box than on the cake itself, and the fruit pieces that must have been a beautiful outer decoration are now scattered. It’s hard not to laugh at the chaos of it, but you manage for his sake, especially considering the circumstances. The thought that he got up early after a tiring mission in order to find a bakery for you is more than a little overwhelming, and you know you’ll cry if you dwell on it too much. You’d take a dropped cake over a flawless one any day if it was coming from him.

“For the record, Rosi,” you say, “I think it’s perfect.”

There’s no way to cut a uniform slice out of the cake, so you fork a piece directly from the mess. It’s delicious, fresh and not too sweet, and even though Rosinante doesn’t care for baked goods, your pleased look convinces him to try it, too.

There’s some symbolism there, something about appearances and damage and sweetness in spite of it all, but for once, you don’t overthink it.

Rosinante has one last surprise for you when you snuggle into bed, getting your attention once you’ve settled in. “I had an idea,” he says.

“What about?”

“It would be a few days late for your birthday, but… I looked into the next island we’re going to stop at. Apparently, it’s famous for its zoo. And, you know, Law told me he’s never been to a zoo before.” He gauges your reaction, hesitant. “...I’d love to take you and the kids.”

Your love of animals didn’t escape his notice either, then. You smile at that, though it falters. “Sounds kind of like a date… What will we tell the others?”

“I won’t say anything. You will mention the zoo in front of the kids. Law will pretend not to want to go, but Baby 5 and Buffalo will jump at the idea, and he’ll end up tagging along. I’ll accompany you all as a ‘bodyguard.’ There’s a chance others in the family will want to come, but it could still be nice.”

It does sound nice. Even if you won’t be able to hold hands as you go, even if you’ll have to keep up pretenses–he’ll still be there, and the two of you will know the true meaning behind the visit. That’s more than enough.

Rosinante’s presence alone has always been enough, but the little ways in which he’ll go out of his way for you serve as comforting reminders of his devotion. It’s not as easy to harbor doubts when he always shows up to chase them away.

“I’d love to go with you, Rosi.” You scoot backwards until his chest is against your back, solid and warm as always. His arm automatically drapes across your body to bring you just a bit closer, and you both drift off like that–sated, secure, and looking forward to the coming days.

[larkral]

I have made some words this week! Are they good? I don't know! Are they in a document? Yes. Praise to the muse or whatever. (Thanks for tagging me in @monbons!)

I've been hiding behind my hands on the end of Friday Prime (Holsom Timeloop), but I now know what I'm going to write and I'm going to write it, y'all. I know most of you don't go to OMGCP fandom, but I am going to continue to encourage you to submit an application for enrollment.

I have put some words into Finally (already, always) AND mysterious and as-yet-with-secret-name In Other Lands fic, though. So. Yep. That's what you'll be seeing.

Simon POV from Finally (already, always)

And he's about the handsomest boy at Watford. Definitely the most handsome boy in our year.  Sometimes I wonder if the reason I want him to like me is just that everyone else seems to, and I've forgot how to ignore it when someone doesn't.  But it isn't quite that.  There's something about him that's magnetic, something special. He's amazing on the football field. Definitely as good as some of the sixth years. Way better than me. He's even played in some of the interschool games. And of course he's top of our class. Or, well, him and Penny. They pretend they're competing for it, but we all know the only competition is good natured. Or, at least, I think it's good natured. There was that one time Baz burned a bit of Penny's notebook. But he said it was an accident, and he did put the fire out before too much of the notebook went up.

And my as-yet-unnamed In Other Lands fic, this snippet of which is really almost exclusively for @ionlydrinkhotwater and @petedavidsonscock (tag yourself in if you're a sunbrat enjoyer, please)

"Shall I tell him you'll be waiting for him there?"  "May as well."  "And will you be waiting for him there?"  "Maybe," Elliot said, and stomped off in the other direction.  The stomping was circuitous. The border camp wasn't that large, and eventually the stomping led to a lovely spot overlooking the lake. It would be absurd to suggest that Elliot had been hoping that Luke would be waiting there by the time he arrived, and no one suggested it, least of all Luke, who was waiting there when Elliot arrived.  "Hey, loser. Get tired of hearing how great you are?"

Tags under the cut!

Tagging my fandom buddies. If you detest getting a notification about wipsday when I post, please LMK and I'll strike you from my holiday card list. Sorry, I meant my tag list. :P You can still have a winter solstice card :-*

@stitchyqueer @thewholelemon @confused-bi-queer @raenestee @facewithoutheart @cutestkilla @hushed-chorus @sillyunicorn @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @basiltonbutliketheherb @ileadacharmedlife @asocialpessimist @bookish-bogwitch @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @petedavidsonscock @takitalks @artsyunderstudy @yeonjunenby @carryonvisinata @takenabackbytuesdays @martsonmars @nausikaaa @nightimedreamersghost @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @ionlydrinkhotwater @that-disabled-princess @shrekgogurt @forabeatofadrum  @palimpsessed @fatalfangirl​ @blackberrysummerblog​ @valeffelees @imagineacoolusername @orange-peony @j-nipper-95 @whogaveyoupermission @wellbelesbian @rimeswithpurple @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @mooncello @monbons @run-for-chamo-miles

[fluffypotatey]

OOOH okay thank you for reminding me half the things I forgot. ha-! allegory of the cave is Greek you say? So is Pandora's Box if that wasn't translated for localization, if he said that literally then Nines, what era are you from LOL. special shout out to the person who said they were like, a past life of MK oh wait yeah that was you Fluffs. that + him being tired of being the hero. what is wrong with that guy....anyways. Nuwa!! the way she coils around people is very, "snake eats tiny dot to get bigger" that game, also just general trapping hmm. like he SEEMS NICE bc they wanted MK is live a little and brought his stone to life??? but was super clumsy and ended up cracking it. also Wukong HOW did you not notice, were you on the journey? was Macky already too dead to protect FFM? there has been a murder!! the subtle expressions, the lingering on their contemplative looks where you just know they're getting a no good idea, when they start covering the eyes and making characters turn their faces. it doesn't matter how still they are. we could see the EXACT thoughts cooking up in there and it's gah- T^T "and the way Macky mourned Wukong privately while everyone else cried for MK (bc they assumed the Pillar repairing itsef meant swk failed) since he knew the Monkey King would try to take MK’s place-" ^^ super valid take, but I raise you: "Macky assumed MK DID do it and was mourning for SWK because he knows how much it would have destroyed him to watch MK sacrifice himself in front of his eyes. that SWK would have tried his absolute hardest yet seems to have failed and it hurts, especially considering their last conversation on MK" :D

YOUR TAKE ALSO WORKS 🤧 BUT LIKE EITHER WAY I WILL FOREVER BE TAKEN ABACK BY HOW GUT WRENCHED MACKY SOUNDED FHERE

lmk what was the point????? TO KILL ME???? BECAUSE IF IS WORKING

yes! Pandora’s box is also Greek! Pandora, a woman created to be the wife of Prometheus’ brother’s wife in the spite of the gods who wanted vengeance on the titan for giving the mortals fire (look what you’ve done. you’ve unlocked my Greek mythos obsession a day early). Pandora was created with beauty, submissiveness, obedience, and curiosity. and it was that curiosity that the gods exploited

“here is a gift from the gods!” they told her and her husband. “under no circumstance do you open it,” they said with a hollow smile before leaving.

and poor Pandora, who did not know her own role in the fall mortals, opened the box at the behest of her burning curiosity, unleashing all hells of bad omens while Hope remained veer loyal in the box Pandora clutched tightly.

“oh you foolish girl!” her husband cried, the effects quickly taking place in him and the rest of humanity. “you just had to open it for your own selfish needs.”

and here we are in s5 with Nines referencing both the Allegory of the Cave and Pandora’s Box. two stories that are about the blessings and curses that come with understanding the world around you. leaving the cave meant leaving the reality forced upon you, but opening Pandora’s box meant unleashing horrors you could no longer be ignorant of in your humble home

MK has already stepped out of the cave but denies it’s reality, not yet ready for the truth it holds. despite this, he already opened her box and whether or not he accepts the “true” reality, MK will find new consequences for unleashing the power of the colored stones on the whole of the earth.