#things are different now...... the sun shines again....

[vaeolus]

one of the strongest forms of community bonding is when a sports team that is notorious for sucking ass for years finally gets good again. there's so much hope in the air. such camaraderie. i ask someone "how are you" and they say "i'm wearing a lions hat!" because that's enough. that's all we need to communicate

[nicholasgoodgirl]

that was mean- nicholas

summary: nicholas was having a bad week and gave you the silent treatment.

warning: argument, crying, happy ending

a/n: i couldn't stop thinking abt this no joke. so ofc i had to write it out

from late at night till he left early this morning for work nicholas has been either quiet rude or both.

we haven't spoken to eachother or not even silents acts of love. nothing.

he cut his alarm clock off and i tried to give him a hug before he got out the bed and he pushed me off of him "not right now" he grumbled and got out of bed

when he left for work i said 'bye' to maybe break the silence shared between us, but i got no response. it was starting to get lonely. i missed my bestfriend that was also my boyfriend

i had nobody to mess with or someone to talk to about my day.

to stop these lingering thoughts i go back to bed to maybe get my mind off of things.

--

i wake up around 8 am which was later than the time i usally woke up around, but today was sorta a lazy day.

it was gloomy not much sun was shining, it rained a little here and there. it was more of a slow day for me so the extra rest was very much needed

i text my boyfriend forgetting about the whole silent treatment ordeal.

me: how's your day going so far?? :)

and to no suprise i was left on delivered and soon left on seen. i messaged him periodically throught the day; hoping that maybe he would reply

it was almost time for dinner which normally nicholas cooks cause he's just better at it, but i didn't know when he was coming home or if he would even do it, so i look up some quick easy recipes and nothing struck my fancy but the pizza recipe. cause how hard could it really be?

i put a packet of yeast into my bowl along with some flour, water, oil, and salt. i let that sit for 30 minutes then im back to cooking again.

spreading flour onto the counter and placing the dough onto it; kneading it into a circle shape. this was harder than i thought

i look around for the marinara sauce and i put it into a different bowl and add a few light seasonings.

i paste that onto the dough, then i sprinkle some alot of cheese onto the pizza and my additional toppings bell peppers, spinach, and mushrooms.

i was so proud of myself especially sense i wasnt the cook, out of me and nicholas. i was really excited for him to try what i made but again i highly doubt he would even eat the food.

i put the pizza away into the oven completely forgetting to set a timer and put on a movie while i wait.

--

a smell of burning was the first thing that woke me up. "shit shit shit" i repeat totally freaking out remembering i left the pizza in the oven.

i get a rag and ineffectivley wave smoke out the air. when i open the oven it smelled horrible. i was coughing from all the smoke that had entered my lungs.

i take the burning pizza out and throw it into the sink, and hose it down with the water.

thats when i hear the front door open and mentally face palm. "what's that smell?" he asks "i kinda burnt a pizza that i tried to make"

"of course you did" he mutters sounding unimpressed. "and the fuck you mean 'kinda' you obviously did burn a damn pizza" he gestures to the chunk of charcoal burnt pizza

"it's not like i did it on purposes or something if thats what you think" my tone sounding a bit confronting.

"It's smells fucking horrible so open a damn window first off" he took a step closer raising his voice.

"you don't pay for shit so i don't understand why you almost had this place in flames secondly. then you also wanna blow up my phone while im working for crying out loud what do you want from me!" he yelled directly in my face

and im sure he knows by now i hate being yelled at. it's something my parents did and overall doesn't solve anything

i just take it, i didn't wanna fight so i go over to the nearest window and crack it open so the smoke clears.

my eyes watered from all the harsh words he could dish out but not the equal amount of attention "well.. you are- when i was.. ugh s'not my fault" i couldn't get a full sentence out. i felt so belittled in this moment

"im going to bed i don't have time for your stupid ass shit" those words hurt more than he thinks.

he had the most patience for me, always making time for us and now he doesnt.

"that's so mean.. you're being so mean" i wipe some tears that had fallen. i turned away from him silently crying.

the peices of my hair stuck to my tear-soaked cheeks. "wait- I'm sorry please don't cry" nicholas' voice was filled with regret.

i lazily push him away from me but he doesn't budge. his arms wrap around me bringing me into his familiar embrace. "I'm so sorry for being an asshole. I've been having a long shitty week and i know thats not an excuse so you don't even have to forgive me."

"you're everything to me. i swear i didn't mean it." he adds

the unforgettable cruel words he'd said to me earlier shoved ontop of his sweet loving words made me cry more.

i let him hold my trembling body as sobs tore through my chest, each inhale was ragged and uneven.

my hands clutched the material of his shirt "im so sorry sweetheart i never wanna make you cry" he explains in such a low voice, giving my hair strokes in attempt to calm me.

my face still burried into his neck tears now starting to dry away, and my breathing starting to even out. he carried me over to the couch and placed me in his lap

i was drained from all the crying, the tense feeling in my body beginning to melt away when i really started to feel nicholas' touch. my eyes drooped again this time staying shut for longer.

i was too tired to resist the sleep that had tooken over. and being cradled in his arms didn't help.

"I'll order pizza for the both of us alright?" he took me off of his lap and placed me on our couch. then lays one of our throw blankets ontop of me. "can we talk in the mornin'?" is the last thing i remember asking before dozing off.

a/n: can yall tell idk how to make pizza

[galactic-magick]

Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader

Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.

Words: 2.1k

Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.

You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.

“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”

You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.

“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.

-

You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.

“Where the fuck is he?”

“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”

“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.

“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”

“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”

Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.

-

“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”

He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”

“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”

“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.

“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”

He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”

“You don’t have that here?”

“Seemingly not,”

You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”

“We’re married?”

“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”

-

You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.

You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.

You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.

That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.

Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.

-

You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.

“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”

Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”

“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”

You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?

Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?

You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.

He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”

You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.

But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.

You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”

“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”

“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?

“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”

Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?

“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.

“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”

He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.

-

You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.

But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.

But you must pretend that you do.

You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.

“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.

“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.

“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”

“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”

“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,

“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”

Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”

“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.

-

What if I stayed? You wonder.

You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?

What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?

But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.

You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.

“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”

Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”

“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”

“So...I can get home too?”

“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”

Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”

“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”

“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”

Little Jayce giggles.

“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”

“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”

“Of course, Professor. I understand.”

-

You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.

It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.

You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.

Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.

The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.

“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.

“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”

“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”

“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”

“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.

You nod, turning towards the device.

“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.

Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:

“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”

[hayw1res]

𖦹 ` 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧

𝅄 ; synopsis : von lycaon is a true gentleman, he would never act on his selfish desires on his master. that is until mating season rolls around…

𝅄 ; warnings : 18+ , knotting , mating press , mentions of breeding “pregnancy and pups��� , p in v , unprotected sex , light predator x prey , slight dubcon but everything is consensual , animalistic urges , slight fluff at the end

𝅄 ; a/n : my first fic on this account, i do hope you enjoy! my requests are open of course. not proofread ; sorry for any errors!

NEW ERIDU, is home to many individuals and home to many different factions. One of those being Victoria Housekeeping . You found yourself at the mercy of those individuals from time to time, especially the ever so proper Von Lycaon. A gentleman through and through , who isn’t afraid of protecting his dear master from the depths of the hollows where you often find yourself after conducting research.

Now, you knew better not to get too involved in any of his personal business, but when he sent a sudden notice of absence it worried you. Why on earth would he need to leave? For how long? What was wrong with him? You had to know, as his close friend and well.. esteemed patron. That’s what lead you to meet at the place you knew would have your answers. Strangely enough, none of the girls were home either, not even Ms Alexandrina.

It sent a shiver down your spine as you crept through the empty halls, it was silent..eerie. It was almost perfect for their faction at least but even for them this seemed a little far fetched. A little too silent for your liking. You could hear the way your heel clicked and clacked against the concrete floor beneath you. It was dark, the sun set a while ago..the moon shined bright through one of the cracked windows, the cold hair caused your hairs to raise and goosebumps to form. Why was everything suddenly so much scarier?

You just needed to find Lycaon and deliver the basket of treats you made for him , to hopefully quell whatever illness he described in his latest message as to why he had to be distant for a while. You turned the corner, only a few feet away from the room of the wolf thiren when you heard a growling. It pierced through your ears as the only thing breaking the eerie silence, that and now your increased heartbeat. You gasp, It sounded like he was in pain.. you didnt want him to feel pain anymore! You were just here to help.

You pick up the pace almost speed walking to his door, it was locked. You turn the handle again and again, calling out to him to let you in! To let you cure his sickness. Oh how naive and ignorant you are. The wolf was no longer the pristine and well groomed man you usually met , but more an untamed beast of pure and undeniable lust. The door swung open, almost off its hinges as he towered above you. Did he get taller? His chest was exposed, his once clean attire was discarded in rags behind him. He panted , his fangs almost dripping in saliva as he looked at you like you were his meal.

You didnt know why your legs burned as you ran away from the beast, you didn’t even know why you were running to begin with. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you heard his heavy footsteps behind you, no less giving you a lead. You knew Lycaon could catch up to you if he truly wanted to. But this wasn’t Lycaon this was someone—something else. You blanked, which way did you come from? Where were you? You made the mistake of standing idle while an animal hunted you. His breathing was ragged in your ear as his clawed hand tightened around you waist yet he didnt hurt you, in fact it was the opposite.

“Stay.” He finally spoke, his voice was almost unrecognizable as the rest of his appearance. His fur was unkept, his eyes were almost completely black as he stared down at you..but the small part of him was still there- that still wanted to protect you, his master. He knew exactly how to, he knew how to protect you from everyone else, everyone who wasn’t him—every other thiren or human out there who dared to claim you. No. He would do it first before them all.

Completely compromised, you’re almost forced in position with your face touching the hard cold floor and his hands forcibly tearing apart your garments. You squeal, you try and break free and tell Lycaon to calm down! Your pleads fall deaf to his ears, the only sense he can make out is your scent. Arousal, fear.. it was a deadly mix for a wolf, it made him crave you more. His hands were somehow soft against your plush skin, playing with the fat of your thighs as he forced your body in every position he could until he was satisfied. You couldn’t help but feel your core leak at the sight of him when you’re finally on your back. His cock was large and swelling, pulsing over your entrance as he tried to hold back every urge he could until he knew you were ready.

His long digits found way into your core, it stun as he dragged them in and out, you knew you needed more than this you needed him. “Ly—Lycaon” You’d call, forcing him to throw out every thought telling him to take his time. You needed him as he needed you, and who was he to deny his master their desire? He almost couldn’t resist when your walls clamped around his thick member, his saliva dripped down onto your exposed chest- coating your mounds with the liquid as his hand came up to massage it in. His pace began slowly, he still cared of course. You could feel everything, every thrust, every twitch—you could feel it all.

Gradually he sped up, he started to thrust at an unforgiving pace, his moans breathless and mixing with your downright pornographic voice, he never felt so much pleasure in his life—all that buildup truly meant something now that he can unload everything he had into you, yes, yes hed give you his all. He would fill you to the brim and get you nice and pregnant with his kin—with his pups. You could do that right?

“you-you will mother..mother my kin—wont you master?” He purred, his tongue lapping at your neck as he started to fuck you like an animal- like the beast he truly was. You could barely speak back, your brain was practically mush at this point. You could only cling to the little you could as your poor cunt got abused by his unforgiving pace. His knot began to swell against the base of his cock, you could feel it prodding at your entrance— no, you couldn’t take this! Not when you could barely take his cock. That didn’t matter to Lycaon though, you would take it whether you liked it or not. His hands came to your thighs yet again but this time to force them beside your head, your teary eyed fucked out face only urged him on.

“yes—yes! take my knot.. my beloved-! my master—please, please let me in..” He’d growl before biting down on your neck , you scream as you feel that familiar burst of energy shock through you- the slick from your cum and arousal created the perfect substance for his knot to slide inside of you..filing you to the brim with his cum. He licked at your neck as his tail wagged behind him furiously.. he finally found someone suitable for his kin.. for his love..for his desires to be fulfilled.

He couldn’t let you go now, not even long after he calmed down. In reality, he was terrified on seeing you now that he was in the right state of mind..what an idiot he was. “Master—I deeply apologize for my behavior. This is why I notified everyone about the full moon” His voice made you chuckle, of course.. the damn moon. “Master-?” He called again, afraid he may have broken you. You surely were “broken” at least that’s how your body felt.

“Lycaon”

“Yes Master-?”

“Carry me to bed”

“Of course..I am at your service”

[dark-moonlust]

The Griffin’s Claim

Pairing: griffin x f!human reader Summary: your mate is obsessed with flying in the sky while you are strapped to his cock. He wants to keep your pussy stretched and filled. Warnings: minors don’t interact, 18+!!, oral(fem receiving), tail stimulation, big 🍆, p in v sex, flying while strapped, lots of 💦.

This is one of my top fav smut. Please let me know if you liked it!!!

It was a lovely morning, and you had just finished your chores at the village. You walked deep within the forest, then headed up the slope, waiting at the clearing. It had been six months since you’d started dating your griffin, and despite your differences you had learned how to work things out. Interspecies matings were rare but not impossible in your age and time. With patience, you had even managed to take your boyfriend’s monster cock, though he was still training you to accept more pleasure.

At that thought, your pussy became wet and you rubbed your thighs to alleviate the need.

You heard your mate approach before you saw him.

The dense forest around you seized to exist as the powerful griffin you called yours, descended from the sky. He flapped his powerful wings with its colorful feathers, his body strong and lean, that of a lion. He had the head of an eagle, a long tail and wings that spanned wide across the sky. His eyes were sharp and bright amber, and they could see miles ahead.

Right now, his eyes were fixed on you as he landed gracefully before you. He was huge and tall, four times your height and tones heavier. But he was also so tender with you. He held you close to his tawny lion coated body, his wings coming to envelope your smaller frame. You buried your face in his fur, feeling completely protected while his beak nuzzled against your face.

“Ready to go home, my mate?” he asked, his voice husky. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too, my love.”

Smiling you prepared to ride his back when he stopped you with a soft click of his tongue. “Aren’t you forgetting something, sweetheart?”

You pouted, shifted nervously because you knew what he meant. He wanted to strap you to his cock while flying. It was one of his ways to stretch your pussy. You had tried it a couple of times, always in the dead of the night when no one could see you. You still recalled how deep he had fucked you while soaring the sky. And the orgasms… they were so intense and toe-curling.

“Again? I… I don’t know if I can do this,” you muttered, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and thrill.

“You’re my mate,” he said, his shining amber eyes gazing into yours. “You can do this and you should be proud of that. Proud of taking my cock so beautifully.”

His words caused more liquid heat to pool in your pussy. “But… it’s broad light and someone might see. It’s shameful.”

He let out a low, rumbling chuckle. “Shameful? No, my sweet. It’s necessary. Because your tight pussy needs lots of preparation. It will take me at least half an hour to fly us back to our home, and that’s more than enough time to stretch your soaked little cunt around my cock.”

“People might see…” you trailed off, eyes lowering to the ground.

“Oh, I will make sure they see how gorgeous you are.”

With a gentle yet firm grip, he turned you around, lowering you on your hands and knees. You whimpered but obeyed as his large, clawed hands tore your clothes, tossing them away. You felt the sun kiss your bare skin. He really was going to prepare you for this. And your treacherous core clenched at that thought.

Sitting down behind you, your mate caressed the lines of your body, careful of his claws. “Smooth and soft.”

Strong hands cupped your breasts, enfolding them completely in his strong grip. He felt them up, massaging the pert mounds that were far too small in contrast to his massive palms. He rubbed around your aching nipples, flicking the buds. You whined and pressed back against him, seeking more. His touch trailed down your belly and he gripped your hips, spreading your legs apart and bearing your pussy and ass to his view.

“Let’s loosen you up so you can take my cock deep, hmm?” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

“Please… it’s so open here—”

“Be a good girl for me,” he said, slapping your bum lightly and causing you to jerk.

“Hey!”

Another slap, this time closer to your pussy.

You whined and wiggled your ass.

“Be good or else I’ll fuck both your naughty holes, cock in your pussy, tail in your ass.”

You stayed still at the (delectable) threat. “I’ll be good.”

Chuckling darkly, he leaned closer and opened his wings to shield you as his hot breath ghosted over your pussy. You bit back a whine and closed your eyes when he licked you up, his wide tongue lapping at your entrance. You clutched the soil and moaned softly as he ate you out, tilting his head slightly to the side, so that he didn’t hurt you with his beak. His tongue was blessedly long and it worked its way inside you, stretching and fucking your hole until you were panting with need, your embarrassment giving way to pleasure.

“Look at you,” he purred as he watched your pussy flutter. “So wet, so ready for me. Fuck… I want to be so deep inside you.”

Before you could respond, he positioned his front legs at the sides of your head, his underbelly pressing against your spine. The tip of his massive cock pressed against your entrance, probing carefully. It popped in with a wet sound and you both moaned loudly. A slow, deliberate thrust and he pushed further inside, pushing past the resistance of your body, filling you inch by inch. You cried out and arched back, the stretch almost too much to bear once he bottomed up inside you.

The angle was intense, his cock filling you so deep that your belly bulged with his size. You felt the fat head kissing your cervix, his ridges and protrusions stimulating your walls. Taking his dick seemed almost impossible but not painful, even if you were a human. You were his fated one, it was the reason why you could mate so intimately with him.

“Damn, so tight,” he growled as he thrusted deep, drawing back his cock which was laved in your juices before slamming back in. “But you’re taking me so well, such a good mate. Such a good cunt.”

His tail sneaked between your thighs, the tip rubbing your clit. You blabbered inarticulate words, your body trembling beneath him, his deliberate ministrations blindsiding you. Mating and fucking your monster boyfriend was no simple job. It took much more work than a regular human relationship. But you’d change nothing. You wanted him so much and it felt so good to be filled by him, body and soul.

Wet squelching sounds echoed through the clearing as you rocked against your mate, taking his monster shaft over and over. Your cunt stretched and tried to suck him in, fitting him like a glove. He growled and pounded his talons on the ground and it didn’t take long for both of you to reach your peak.

You came first, white-hot pleasure exploding like lightning bolts and taking over your body. Your whole frame trembled violently as he buried his shaft deep and released with a shrill, probably alerting the whole forest. Thick, hot ropes of cum flooded your insides, his seed like a torrent at first then turning into ripples that slowly stopped.

Drawing back, his large cock left your pussy with a lewd squelch. You whined, feeling his seed trickle down your folds then drenching your thighs. Turning you head gently, his beak traced your lips in imitation of a kiss. When you opened your mouth, his long, flexible tongue slipped inside to explore your mouth. Your tongues danced together, and you tasted your arousal on his tongue.

”Now, let’s get you strapped on, sweetheart,” he said, his eyes glinting down at you.

“Pl…ease,” you whimpered, your voice a breathless plea. “It’s too much…”

“Is it painful, little one? Is that why you are so against it?”

“No!” you said firmly. “It’s just… I’m so sensitive, I’m gonna cum again—”

“Great. I want you cumming again and again, making a mess all over.”

With that, he rolled you on your back and lowered his body, so you were under his lion underbelly. Using his beak, he released the leather bindings at his sides and pressed even closer to you, his cock throbbing against your cum-stained pussy. Gulping audibly, you looked at his shaft; it had a stout round tip and surrounding ridges and protrusions along its length. And it was still rock hard, jutting against your folds proudly.

Your breath hitched when he thrust forward, impaling you in one smooth glide. You were far too wet and he stretched you open once again, taking away your ability to think with how deep and big he was. This time he didn’t fuck you. He stayed buried deep inside, your belly bulging against his own.

“Now strap the bindings safely around you,” he ordered softly, his eyes leaving no room for refusal.

Breathing shakily, you began to secure the buckles that cradled your bum, then the ones that fastened around your waist. It wasn’t an easy task… with his cock throbbing deep inside you and his fur rubbing against your sensitive nipples. After some minutes of fumbling and moaning at the friction, you managed to seal your body to his, both of you locked as one. You wrapped your arms around his body, your legs up in the air.

Your mate tested the security of the bindings, shifting to his full height, taking you with him. Suspended in the air, you nearly sobbed at the sensations. The slightest movements caused his cock to plunge and tease your insides. Your mate growled low, affected by the feel of you as he walked back and forth, with your weight under him, his cock pulsing inside you. Then he stood on his back talons, embracing you with his front legs. Just to make this doubly secure.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a soothing rumble. “Feel how deep I am? That’s how I want you to take me. All the time.”

You could only hum and he spread his wings, his powerful muscles flexing as he prepared to fly. With a mighty leap, he took to the sky, the wind rushing against your skin, combined with the constant pressure of his cock inside you. Each beat of his wings took you high above the trees until the forest landscape became a distant blur. His cock drove you wild, and you couldn’t help but moan loudly, the sound lost in the flapping of his wings.

“That’s it,” he said loud enough for your to hear. “My perfect human mate, so full and stretched around me.”

The fly back home passed in a blur of moans and bliss. He gave you one orgasm after another, his seed filling you, leaking down your thighs in obscene amounts. He floated low enough to show you off, roaring proudly as he marked you for all to see, the scent of him bathing you. By the time you reached home, you were covered in his cum, exhausted but blissfully fucked.

Please let me know what you think? Comments and reblogs would make me super happy!

[jinwoosbabyboo]

The First Meet Self-Aware!Xavier

Sometimes maybe you're just the Juliet to his Romeo. Nothing more than a tragic love story, but what if you could rewrite the stars? pt. 1 here A/N: Before you fight me just read okay? Kisses 💋

Self-Aware!Xavier who's been blinding you with your screen brightness lately “Since when can you do that?” “I was testing the limits of my evol recently and figured it out cool right?” “Yes very cool but please stop blinding me it hurts”

It only took asking once for Xavier to stop adjusting your screen brightness. However he has been acting strange. It feels like he's hiding something; not necessarily something he can't tell you about more like something doesn't want to tell you about. Checking the app turned into a more frequent occurrence when he started disappearing constantly. You would often open the app to find the home screen cafe empty.

“Xavier!” the screen flashes and you see him appear with that same soft smile directed right at you “I’m here what do you need?” you stared at him unsure if you should accuse him of anything due to his strange actions lately. You didn't want to argue with him so you pushed your feelings down and sighed “Nothing just wondered where you went”

“I’m right here I'll always be here” He moved closer to the screen to get a better look at your eyes. “Is that all you were wondering?” You couldn't help, but sigh heavily as your curiosity got the best of you. “What have you been doing lately?” Stupid. Stupid. You mentally kicked yourself as the words rolled off your tongue before you could stop them. Why are you so jealous that he might be with in-game MC? It’s not like you can actually be with him. “Like I told you before I've been testing my evol” it still felt like he was hiding something under that soft gaze of his. You narrowed your eyes at hime “Xav if you want to spend more time with MC you don’t need to hide it from me” you could feel that terrible lump forming in your throat as reality set in that no matter how much you loved him; he’s not yours and never will be. Before he could answer you shook your head willing your tears to stay at bay “I have to go I'll be back later” you closed the app right as his mouth opened to say something.

You stopped opening the app after that. You thought that maybe if you stayed away long enough things would go back to normal and he wouldn’t be able to talk to you anymore. How do you grieve someone who doesn’t exist?

1 week later....

Since that conversation you’re not sure if you’ve become more sensitive to light or if you just happen to keep getting glares in your eyes because you’re just unlucky enough to be right where one can shine right in your eyes. You kept the lights in your house low or even just off to keep the light from blinding you. These constant blinding flashes of light were killing your head so you started wearing sunglasses everywhere and even using the walls to be your guide around your place because it was easier to just walk around in the dark.

Tonight was different though as you made your way to your bedroom your head was fuzzy along with your vision “I need to go to the eye doctor my vision may be getting worse” staggering to your bed you fell face first onto your bed and passed out. Your body felt weightless as if you were floating on a cloud. Your eyes fluttered open to see an expanse of stars and milky ways as far as the eye can see. “Y/N”

There was a voice, but it sounded as if it was underwater. “Y/N?” Words failed you as you tried to answer “I'm…. tired…..” you words were slurred and your eyelids were heavy. “Let’s go home together” the voice was much clearer now. “Xav….ier?” succumbing to the drowsiness that had you in a vice grip, your head fell back as everything went dark.

You jolted awake only to immediately be blinded by the sun shining in through the window. “At least it didn't give me a headache this time” You mumbled to yourself as you yawned into a big stretch. Your vision was clear again a stark contrast from what you fell asleep with. You started to take in your surroundings taking note that this wasn’t your room “Am I lucid dreaming?”

“The sun is too bright turn it off” a groggy voice whined next to you. Without thinking you kicked your leg out connecting directly with the strangers crotch who audibly groaned in pain. You sprinted out of the room only to realize you had no clue where you were. Rustling could be heard from the bedroom so there was no time to waste as long as you made it out of here as quick as possible. Freedom was within reach as you came up on the front door or at least you hoped it was the front door; only to be grabbed by your forearm and yanked back.

“I will scream bloody murder!” You yelled as you fought against this persons iron grip. “It’s me! Y/N it’s me open your eyes” not even realizing you were already screaming bloody murder with your eyes closed ; you opened them to see those deep blue eyes you’d dreamt about. “Xavier? Am I hallucinating?” You pulled your arm again and Xavier let go this time. You rapidly scanned the room and noticed this place looked exactly how it did in the game “There’s no way i’m standing in your apartment right now” You pinched the back of your hand and winced in pain.

Xavier rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded “Welcome to my home” you circled him skeptically eyeing him up and down. “Explain yourself”

“I was testing if I could manipulate the light in your world and it turned out that I could” That’s when it hit you that it was Xavier who’d been blinding you with light. You weren’t sure if you were pissed or flattered that he was trying to get your attention while you were ignoring him. No he literally made your life a living hell with that of course you were pissed. You took deep breaths as you tried to gather your thoughts. “So it was you that kept blinding me Xavier that gave me such insane headaches why would you do that?” You threw your arms up in exasperation as you began to pace. “I wanted your attention and you wouldn’t talk to me” He approached you with careful steps as you backed up at the same time. All those repressed feelings you had for the last week quickly surfaced just from looking at him. His face became blurry as your eyes filled with tears; just as you went to turn away you bumped into the kitchen counter. You stumbled to a stop as Xavier trapped you between himself and the counter. “Why did you leave me?” His lips pressed together in a thin line and you could tell he was trying to keep himself calm as well.

“Because we can’t be together Xav….” Your voice cut off as you choked up trying to keep your tears from falling. “Why not I'm right here” he had a point, but you don’t belong here; this isn’t your home and Xavier already has someone he was literally made to be with. “I can’t stay here Xav I can’t come between you and-” You yelped as he lifted you onto the counter and slotted himself between your soft thighs that were still bare from going to bed in a large t-shirt and spandex shorts. “I cut through time, space and reality to have you in front of me” His hands lingered on your thighs softly drawing circles with his thumbs. "Do you truly believe I want anyone other than you?" You went slack-jawed at his confession of how he managed to bring you here “You what?”

He dropped his head and exhaled a raspy chuckle, but there was no amusement in it “I was so lost when you stopped coming to see me I thought I was losing my mind” This man really did the impossible to get to you; there’s no way you could ever tell a single soul about this or you’ll be thrown head first into a mental asylum. The feeling of Xavier’s hand on your cheek pulled you from your spiraling thoughts. He gently wiped away a stray tear that you hadn’t even realized escaped. “You’re breathtaking in person” The blue in his irises was damn near non-existent as he studied your face almost as if he was trying to permanently burn the image into his mind. His stare was so intense it was like he couldn’t take his eyes off of you or you’d disappear.

You softly pushed his shoulder you try and get some distance because it felt like you couldn’t breathe with him this close. “Xavier please….” Your voice trailed off into nothing, but a breathy whisper. You didn’t know what you were asking him for; words seemed to be escaping you. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and held it next to your head as he leaned in closer. Your lips parted as your breath became heavy and his gaze immediately dropped to your lips. “Please what?”

Fuck it.

You wriggled your wrist free and grabbed him by the back of his neck slamming your lips onto his. Xavier wasted no time kissing you back, his arms wrapping about your waist pulling you tight against his toned body. Xavier kissed you like a man starved the way he parted your lips to allow his tongue in along with the quick nips and sucks to your bottom lip your mind was going fuzzy as you fell into him with reckless abandon. You drew back gasping for air and Xavier chased your lips pulling you back into a heated makeout session. Before you fell back under his spell you broke away and pressed your fingertips to his lips when he tried to chase you again. His breath was ragged and you could see his rapid pulse fluttering on his neck. Seeing him completely flushed with red cheeks and hot ears gave you butterflies “We should slow down we just met” You teased with a giggle. Xavier rolled his eyes and kissed your nose as he took a step back. You didn’t miss how he quickly adjusted his pants tucking himself into his waistband. “I’m sure you have many questions go ahead I'll answer all of them truthfully”

[doctorho]

dripping velvet, purring dark

Academy era Viktor x fem! curvy reader, 4.5k, no warnings only love in this house (ok there is a conversation about some people being idiots which can be interpreted as the reader getting unwanted attention at a party but it's nothing graphic or anything i promise and no-one is mean to her) also i made viktor horny and slightly subby because that's what the gremlins in my brain wanted. you're welcome. yeah! hi! not sure what this is, but here you go. the reader is described as she/her here (and curvy, and soft, and she is wearing an evening gown, because i wanted to think about pretty dresses). idk. have a thing. happy friday.

Viktor likes to think of himself as a person who's usually capable of focusing on things pretty well. On the task at hand. Give him a faulty circuit and he'll poke at it long enough to find the broken component, no problem. An error in the calculations? He'll find that missing minus sign or forgotten exponent, easy. He'll strip a wire in his sleep.

The task at hand now, though? The problem?

He had to sit through a whole evening of presentations at the academy end-of-year party, put on a polite face for the investors, and pretend not to care that one idiot after another was lining up to flirt with you while he was watching from the sidelines. You were wearing a dress that felt sinful to look at, and there was something primitive gnawing at the inside of his chest begging to be let out, and he had to just stand there and nod through the conversations, pretend he wasn't slowly boiling from the inside out.

And he was failing miserably. 

He’d known he was in trouble from the moment he saw you that night – all expensive fabric covering smooth curves and soft-looking skin, sparkling eyes and easy smiles, and he’d been done for. Before this, it’d been much easier to compartmentalize his feelings; before this, it'd been easier to ignore them. 

Before he’d kept his distance, emotionally and physically speaking, because, well, it’d been easier. He'd seen you around the Academy, all bubbling laughs and raw-honest radiant smiles and confident solutions, and he'd known that you looked…appealing, but he wasn't in the habit of holding up any illusions about what you might think of him in return. His place was in the dark dusty corner of the lab, turning over the ever-ticking problems, while you were out there shining like the sun. And sometimes you came by the lab, with new ideas or suggestions or just to borrow some equipment or ask about a shipment, and he had resigned to his role of staying at his desk pretending he wasn't burning to be closer to your orbit. 

But when he sees you in the low lighting of the party, leaning to the bar and laughing, something just breaks in him. And then he can’t pretend to ignore it any longer. And sure, maybe he’s a little bit drunk, it was easier to stand these events that way, but it still feels like a solid-honest truth in his bones that he wanted to get closer to you, and suddenly he couldn’t stand the conversation he was in the middle of. Because one of them – the sour idiots he’d catalogued in his head for the whole night, the stupid people trying to impress you with their embellished stories and inherited wealth who weren’t worth your time – one of them was circling you like a hyena again, smiling.

You were wearing a dark, floor-length gown that wasn’t, on a purely technical level, much different from what about 50% of the other guests were wearing. However, it seemed to create a significant caveat that even though there wasn’t anything indecent in the dress itself, seeing it on you made him feel like maybe he shouldn’t look at you for too long or he might spontaneously combust. There was a slit on the side that revealed a more than generous amount of leg when you walked, and his focus kept wandering from that to your silhouette, the soft curve of your hips, your chest, your face – no, that’s worse, don’t stare, she'll notice – and truly, he had to force himself to keep his eyes at least vaguely on the vicinity of the person who was currently talking to him. Something about statistics and return investment. Yes. 

He nods, pretending to look interested.

The dress drapes over your hips in soft little cascades, the fabric shimmering lightly as you moved, and something in his brain was itching, begging to run his fingers over it, to know what it feels like, to know what you feel like under it, all soft and warm and pliable under his fingers, and preferably sighing something into the crook of his neck, and–

“We'd like to get our investment back within a year,” the guy that's talking to him says – Viktor can't even remember his name, and he doesn’t really even care – and he just shifts his eyes back to the guy slowly. 

“A year?” he repeats, with the barest amount of feigned interest, and the guy goes off in a whole new tangent. Viktor shifts his posture, and lets his eyes glide over to where you were again. 

One of those idiots, one he thankfully doesn’t have the displeasure of knowing personally but who must be the son of some crooked diplomat, says something to you and you scoff through a smile, roll your eyes, and lean further into the counter at the bar. Viktor has to pretend to be present for his own conversation – yes, the new coating material for the wires was more heat-resistant, no, there was still the issue of mechanical stress, they were working on it – and you say something in answer to the current idiot (third of the night, he’d counted), and it is killing him that he doesn’t know what it is. 

You’d turned down the first two, from what he could tell. But this latest idiot was still talking to you, like he was in any way entitled to your company. And it's making something inside Viktor raise its hackles, and he doesn’t especially like feeling like that, because he couldn't justify feeling like that to himself in any tangible way, and then it all just boiled down to a resigned even if she deserves better than that i have no business dictating that for her. 

He's just about to focus on the conversation he was supposedly participating in again when something happens. He can't make out the details, but imbecile number three seems to lean way too close to you, says something, and smiles in a way that makes something cold creep down the back of Viktor's neck. And your expression coldens, too, and you say something to him, and turn away, more rigid than you'd been the whole evening. 

“Excuse me,” Viktor is saying to the Investment Guy before he can fully think it through, his own voice feeling distant in his ears, and then he's walking to the bar. 

You're alone – the idiot had had the sense to leave you alone quickly, at least. That's good. Viktor isn't sure what he's doing, but then he's leaning to the bar next to you and ordering another drink and trying to look like he isn't thinking too hard about what to do next. 

“Whatever he just proposed to you,” Viktor says slowly, looking over the bar instead of directly at you, “I assure you you can do better.”

He can hear you take a deep breath, shift a little, and sigh it out with what sounded like almost a laugh. 

“Yeah,” you agree, “I don't know what it is about people like that that makes them think they can just…” You sigh again, and make a hand gesture towards the room. ”You know.”

“Unfortunately,” he answers, resigned, “yes. I do.” 

He gets his drink and thanks the bartender, and then leans to the counter too, mimicking your posture, holding the drink and letting it swirl around in his glass. “Have you talked with anyone actually worth your time tonight?” 

You hmm. Then, “there was a little girl earlier that told me some fascinating things about insect metamorphosis.” You say casually. 

And Viktor laughs. Without meaning to, he laughs, and you smile in response, visibly relaxing a little.

“I don't think she was on the guest list though.” You continue. 

He hums in response, and rearranges his grip on the handle of his cane. “Sounds much more interesting than the conversations I've been in tonight.”

“I know,” you answer, and he can hear the smile in your voice, “you think we could swap out one of the main speakers with her?” 

He hmms again, looking over the stage thoughtfully. “I think it would count as a public service,” he nods a little, considering the list of speakers yet to come, “what do you think, who'd be a good target?”

You shift in your place, looking over the same list of speakers, plastered over the walls on both sides of the stage. “The financial talk,” you answer, “Mr. Ross. I'd much rather listen to insect facts than another boring talk about investing.”

Viktor nods. “You distract him, I'll whack him unconscious?” he offers, and you laugh. You laugh, and it warms something in him. 

“And then what?” you continue, still smiling, and he has to look away to keep his composure. 

He shrugs. “Eh,” he answers, “we drag him to a bathtub somewhere and act like he just passed out there?" He shrugs, "I happen to know three ways to get out of this room that I'm pretty sure we could use unnoticed.”

“Uh-huh,” you answer, “and then we just find the girl and ask her if she wants to talk about bugs for half an hour. Easy.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, “and then we congratulate ourselves for making the evening better for everybody.”

"Except maybe Mr. Ross."

"No," he counters, looking over the crowd, "I think he would prefer a nice little nap. Surely not even he wants to hear himself talk all the time." He takes a sip of his drink, "and I think waking up in a bathtub would be a nice change of pace to the rumors of other places he seems to have a habit of waking up in after events such as these."

“Good point,” you shift in your place, settling to lean to the counter a bit closer to him. “Perfect plan. But why'd you get to whack him unconscious and not me?”

Viktor blinks. Lifts one eyebrow. “Because you are by far more distracting than I am,” he answers, “and I thought the plan could use the distraction.”

“I don't think that's true,” you answer, “I think you're plenty distracting on your own.”

Now, he lets himself look at you. Really, properly look at you, and not even half-trying to hide it. You're smiling now, shoulders relaxed, holding your drink with fingers wrapped loosely around it, and in the warm lights of the bar there's a golden glow on your skin, and something breathless at the bottom of his stomach is aching to get closer to you, to touch you, to see if his hand would fit on your waist as well as he thinks it would, to see how you would react to that, if he could make you smile in a different way, what sounds he could get you to make for him–

“Agree to disagree,” he says, averts his eyes, and takes a sip of his drink. 

Tries to tell that wild-hungry purring thing in him to behave. 

Someone reasonable comes to talk to you – and it's about work, which is…something, probably, he has to stop himself from thinking it's better than those earlier idiots, because who's he to decide that for you? He gives you a casual wave and a nod as you depart with a smile and get swept up in the conversation about new ideas and solutions and this-new-thing you've been looking at. And he watches as you start talking excitedly, all golden and glittering, easy conversation and confident smiles, and quietly (not-so quietly) he concludes that maybe you hadn't had many worthwhile conversations with any of the guests that night because you were the most worthwhile person in there to talk to. 

He stays there sipping his drink and wondering what would be the closest appropriate time to slip out. He'd made an appearance, and technically nothing could be expected from him beyond that point. Sure, Jayce might tell him he could've stayed a bit longer, he could use the support, but nothing dramatic would happen. 

The party drones on, and he makes no effort to move – and really, he tries not to think about it too much, but that was at least in part because he wanted to keep looking at you. He promptly ignores this, even when you're laughing at something someone else said and that heavy-dark-purring something at the bottom of his stomach doesn't like it very much. 

Someone comes to ask for his opinion on something, and with a tiny sigh, he lets them pull him into the loop of conversations again. Yes, we are trying to simplify the design, no we can't cut back from the materials, they are what they are for a reason. 

Somewhere around his third ‘Why would you think that?’ of that particular conversation, he's had enough. People were stupid, and he's had enough. He's just trying to come up with ways to get out of the conversation preferably without starting a scandal of some sort, when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turns around to look at who it belongs to, and then everything in his head is quiet for a moment. 

“Hey,” you say, smiling, “sorry to interrupt, but can I steal you away for a moment?” you ask, slipping your hand feather-light down his arm, and he has to suppress a shiver. 

Viktor furrows his brows and opens his mouth, and then, like an idiot, says nothing. But he turns to leave, thankful for the window of opportunity.  

“You remember that thing we talked about before?” you continue as you steer him away from the earlier group smoothly, “I found someone who's interested in those three escape routes you had up your sleeve.” 

“Who?” he asks, because that's the only thing he can think of. You've linked your arm with his, and you're leaning on him, and you're soft and warm and you smell good, and he doesn’t trust his ability to form a full sentence. 

“Me,” you answer, “and judging by how you just looked out there,” you continue, “you.”

Viktor swallows, and something in his brain purrs at the idea. 

“This way,” he says, nodding towards an old stage exit, and honestly, he doesn’t even care why you want to leave, he's just grateful for the distraction and the company and drinking in every warm square inch of skin contact that you're willing to give him, even if it is just walking with your shoulder pressed against his. 

If it turned out to be a plot where you actually wanted to whack someone unconscious, he'd worry about that later. For now he was just happy to leave, and happier that you were leaving with him. 

It's easy to slip away from the crowd, and into the space between the stage curtain and the wall, if you know where you're going. You effortlessly fall a bit further from his side but keep his hand on yours, letting him pull you along, and quietly he wonders how and why and holy shit. He decides not to question it though, and keeps walking through the dim space between the cold old wall and the cascades of warm heavy velvet curtains. 

“Do you want to leave the party,” he asks, voice quiet now that the background buzz of people was muffled by the curtain, “or just get away from it?” 

You hmm behind him, clearly through a smile, and he makes the mistake of looking back at you. Surrounded by the dark red velvet curtains and only slivers of light from each side, his head – and the rest of his body – get entirely the wrong idea of what you're doing in there, because you look like a goddess in the small dim space, and he might crumble into ashes if he keeps looking at you, or he might do something stupid like pull you closer and press you into the wall, to see if your eyes would widen, if you'd gasp from the cold wall, if he could find other ways to make you gasp–

so he turns his eyes away and keeps talking. 

He quickly finds he has to clear his throat before he can do that. “There is a staff entrance that goes past the kitchen a little ways further,” he says, and motions forwards, “or there is a disused indoor balcony surrounding the stage. You would be able to see the party, but it'd feel…removed.”

You lean closer, close enough that when your voice is muffled by the surrounding velvet, it feels like you're speaking right in his ear, and he has to swallow and remind himself that that's just situational coincidence, nothing more. 

“Why do you know so many ways to get out of here?” you ask, “You sneak out a lot?” 

“I am a fan of interesting architecture,” he answers, “and not as much a fan of pretentious social gatherings.” 

“Fair,” you answer, then lean your chin on his shoulder, and he feels like his spine might spontaneously melt. “In your expertise, what would you recommend?”

“Well,” he says, trying to make it sound casual and like he wasn't breathless at all, “I think the balcony has some fairly interesting architecture.” And the lights of the party would look pretty from there. And you'd both get a breather away from the crowd. And he'd get to keep talking to you a little bit longer. And, as selfish as the thought felt, he couldn't deny it; he'd get to keep having you to himself for a little bit longer. 

“Show me the balcony,” you smile, and he obliges. Happily, he obliges. So he pulls you into a narrow staircase, and then, up. 

At the end of it there is a room that could, only by technical definition alone, be called a balcony – it was more like a hole carved into the wall, having at some point been used for seating or equipment space at events and concerts, and now just served as half-forgotten extra storage. It had, he supposed, once upon a time looked like the banquet hall did, all smooth surfaces and warm lights and thematically switched-out decorations, but now it was mostly the standard red velvet and dark wood and light marble, forgotten by the party and some of the golden light from the hall spilling into it by pure coincidence. There were velvet curtains on each side of the room, and you drop his hand to go look over the railing, and down at the party. 

His hand instantly feels cold without yours in it, but he tries his best to ignore this, and follows you to look down at the party, too. 

It looks much smaller from up there. Less chaotic. 

“I didn't know there was a space like this here.” You say quietly, “can they see us?” 

“Part of the design,” he answers, “you're not supposed to notice these spaces unless people want you to. Good place to hide extra orchestra pieces and make it feel like the sound is coming from nowhere. And–” he looks over at the people, colorful and mingling, “no, they can't. Not unless you want them to.” Then, he smiles, just a little. “But they'll be able to hear us, if we direct our voices upwards and wait for things to quiet down there first.”

You turn to look at him. 

“Sloped ceilings,” he explains with a shrug, “again, good for a hidden orchestra accompaniment.” 

“But they can't hear us talking?*

“Not over themselves,” he answers, “ironic, I know.”

You hum thoughtfully and turn around, with your back to the railing, and then you look at him and he needs to kick his brain back in line. You were gorgeous in the dim lighting, all relaxed and smiling, and–

He grips the handle of his cane a little tighter. 

“Good,” you say, and the way you say it – all quiet and warm and liquid – makes something in him purr again, entirely against his better judgement. 

“Why is it good?” he asks, because he has to hold on to some semblance of logic here, because otherwise he might just vaporize out into the atmosphere. 

“Why do you think?” you ask, slowly turning to face him, and oh that just isn't fair. You're just there, just a warm breath of space away, all soft and pretty and languid–

He doesn’t know what to say, so he goes with what feels like the safest course of action. 

“In case we want to plot any more ways to violently derail the evening's program?”

You exhale a small laugh and lean back. 

And then you lift a hand on his chest, and he's pretty sure his heart might be overheating soon. 

“Sure,” you answer, “that.” You inch closer, and Viktor is having a hard time remembering how to breathe. “Or anything else we might not want them overhearing.”

“Like?” He exhales, careful not to break the moment, and then you smile, warm and private and for him, and his insides liquify into warm, honey-thick goo, and oh, he’s not going to recover from this. 

“Like,” you repeat slowly, and then you push yourself away from the balcony railing, just slightly, into the side of the wall covered by the velvet curtain, and he lets you pull him with you, he's not stupid. His brain – along with the rest of his body – might be in the process of actively melting, but he's not stupid. If you wanted to pull him into a shadowed, velvet-covered corner, he would follow no questions asked, especially on a night like this when his insides were buzzing and you looked like that. When you looked at him like that. You smile again, and stop moving when your back hits a wall, and then you pull him just close enough to whisper into his ear. “...Anything else we might not want them overhearing.” you repeat, and, yeah, Viktor is close to becoming the best documented case of human combustion in recorded history. 

In the dim lighting, he searches your eyes into his, and you watch him, waiting, radiating heat between him and the velvet-covered wall. He's not sure why you were acting like this, but all signs were pointing towards you wanting the same thing he did, and he's not sure what he did to get this lucky, but with his every cell buzzing and vibrating and keening over to get closer, he wasn't about to let the opportunity pass. 

He wants to ask ‘why me’ or ‘are you sure’ but what comes out is a broken, desperate whisper of a “can I touch you?”, and you answer with a grin and with your fingers tangled to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. 

“Yes,” you breathe, “please.”

And really, he wouldn't have thought it would be so simple, but it's the please that does him in – just one whispered word and his brain short-circuits in an overflowing flash of white-hot need. Need to trigger that again, need to please, and need to finally give in to the pleasure waiting to boil. And then it all comes rushing out; the hunger. 

His hands are on your waist in an instant, and his cane clatters to the ground as he leans his weight on you and the wall and for a moment, he has the sense to hope the curtains don't come tumbling down, and they don't, which is good enough for him, because then he can let go of that particular worry and focus solely on finding your lips to his and making the most of every second of this that you're willing to give him. 

The sensations hit his brain like flashes of bright light; how soft you are under his fingers, like he'd hoped, the fabric smooth and silky, giving away easily under his touch. How warm you are, warm and breathing in a fluttered little gasp, the dusty old velvet mixing in with your sweet scent, and then when he gets his lips on you–

After that it's just golden-dark-velvet-honey-thick bliss. You breathe out a small sound that drips down his spinal cord and goes straight to the purring pit at the bottom of his stomach, and he swallows it with a hungry, greedy, desperate groan that comes from somewhere deep inside his chest, and his head is swimming with warm and real and soft and for me–

He is happily overloading his brain with this, and he doesn’t even care. He presses closer to you and you exhale another sweet little sound that makes him bare his teeth, and then his lips are on your neck and he doesn’t know anything except that he wants you to keep making those sounds and he likes the way your hands tangle in his hair and tug. 

“Tell me what you want,” he mutters to the skin of your neck, pulling you closer by the waist, and absolutely relishing in the way your chest rises and falls with short little pants he can hear you take in and out. In and out, and as he tugs at your waist again, just a bit closer, and drags his teeth against your pulse lightly, one of those exhales turns into a sweet little whine. 

He grins against your skin. 

He doesn’t waste the time or energy pretending he isn't an absolute mess over you, right now – his own breathing ragged and fast and his heart hammering in his ears, his whole body buzzing with want – but that didn't mean seeing you react that way didn't make him want to purr. 

Didn't make his insides heat up with I did that. I got her like this. She made that sound for me. For me. It's mine. 

You take a breath, slow and rugged, and then you tug him towards one of the velvet-covered seats. And he moves like he's floating, letting you guide him, because what else is he going to do? You tug him into the seat and he sits on it, gladly, and stays there looking up at you with his eyes wide and only half-lidded and his heart hammering, waiting for more. 

You give him another one of those small, private, knowing smiles, your eyes hazy, and then you step to stand right in front of him. 

And then you hover over him, just waiting for him to pull you into his lap. He does, because he is selfish and greedy and burning, and he's pretty sure he's going to implode if he doesn’t get that delicious pressure on him soon, and his hand fits your waist perfectly, and then when when you do straddle him, your hips pressing down on his, he whines. He lets out a breathless little whine, he can feel it in the base of his spine, and it makes that hunger in him want more. 

“Only the voices directed upwards travel down there, right?” you ask, voice quiet and dripping right into his ear and pooling at the bottom of his stomach. 

He swallows. “Yes.” 

You hum thoughtfully, and press your body closer to his, all soft and warm and perfect, sinking your lips down to his neck and he shivers, instinctually tilting back his head with a sigh, exposing more of his neck to you. 

“Better keep quiet, then.” 

[bi-writes]

still wakes the deep au | soap x f!reader

Installment 2/?: Warning Signs

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. masterlist

Being alone feels different when there’s nowhere to run. Every wall looks the same, and the stench of must permeates in every room–the carpet must hold it in. Everything drips; the taste of salt won’t go away, and it makes your eyes dry out every time you close them and open them again. There are other people around you, men that are the cause of the knocks against the rig, but they are as alien as what lies beneath you. Every time you feel as if it’s too foreign, you remind yourself that there is nowhere to go.

The only way out of this place is by doing your job; but even that scares you all of the sudden.

Your bed is lumpy. The mattress feels dry, stiff, and it barely gives as you lay in it. You stare up at the bottom of the top bunk, trying not to think about the sound of sea water pelting your window like a threatening knock while you try to sleep.

Your mind barely gives. You keep the lamp that sits on your makeshift desk turned on. Without it, the black of nothingness from outside bleeds through the walls, and you swear you can see a thousand different shapes that claw their way out of the moonlight towards you. The rig doesn’t shake, but it breathes. It lives, somehow, deep legs connected to the seafloor to keep it from drifting off, from separating, from taking you with it, from suffocating you until your breaths are filled with water and your body is too cold to–

You jump when the lamp bursts. A jolt of electricity shatters the bulb, and you sit up in bed, clutching the sheets as you watch the lamp glow slightly before fizzling out. The room blankets into the dark, and you move shakily off your bed and pat around for your flashlight before clicking it on. The small circle of yellow light doesn’t do what you hoped; instead, it makes the shadows of every object longer and seem further away, and they start to move as your hand shakes, so much so that you cannot tell if something is coming towards you or if your mind is still convincing you of some sort of seasickness. One lodged into your brain, one that doesn’t make you nauseous but makes you paranoid that some hole in the ocean will open up and take you with it.

The thought of drowning is not as terrifying as finding out what lies beneath the surface of the water.

When you used to think of the ocean, it used to soothe you. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was crystal clear blue and tropical fish. You thought about running your fingers through warm water and kicking your feet as you watched dolphins fly beside you. When the sun penetrated the light, it shined until it showed the seafloor, where little creatures burrowed beneath bright sand, making it sparkle.

The ocean you know now is anything like it. You understand what they mean when they say “mother nature,” because only a woman scorned could eat the world the way she does. Waves touching taller than buildings. Animals so large, they would swallow you whole and let the acid of their insides quiet your screams for nutrition. An endless void, reaching miles towards the center of earth, a vast unknown that crushes heavy metals and defies physics the further and further you drop. She’s unforgiving. Mean. A terrifying, wonderful thing, and you are cheating death. You know it. She screams at you from just outside your thin walls, and you are pretending not to hear her. She’s telling you something, but you bury your nose in your books.

If it’s a warning she’s trying to give, you won’t know it until it’s too late.

The rig groans in the middle of the night. You can hear the pipes expanding, the water moving aggressively outside your window, the sounds of cranes and metal creaking that rattle off around you. Your hand shakes a little as you try and find your shoes, slipping them on as you open your door in search of a new source of light.

It’s the middle of the night, but there’s still a skeleton crew around, moving between their night shifts. You make your way down the hall, clicking off your flashlight, and you find yourself in the rec room in search of light bulbs in the utility closet there. You hear the doors swing open behind you, and you try to ignore the rowdy voices of men as you stand on your tiptoes and rummage the hundredth box for what you need. You try not to think about the whisps of something delicate you feel grazing your fingertips (because spiders wouldn’t be this far out from land, right?).

“Looks like ye need a little help, bonnie.”

You startle yourself nearly out of your skin. You trip off the ledge you’re standing on, trying to hold your hands out to brace yourself, but you never hit the ground. Strong hands grip you around the middle, breaking your fall and getting you back onto your feet, nice and steady. You spin around, clutching your flashlight to your chest, panting like an anxious puppy. You can make out his blue eyes even in the dark, bright and seemingly concerned as Soap tries to get a grip on you to keep you from swaying.

“‘S alright, lass, ‘s just me! Soap, it’s Soap.”

You put a hand over your chest, trying to calm your breathing, You shake your head, closing your eyes as you try and repeat the mantra you’ve been telling yourself since you got on this stupid rig.

Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground. Your feet are on solid ground.

“Sorry,” you whisper. “I…”

“What are ye doin’ up?” He asks, clicking his tongue. “‘S the middle of the night! Reckon ye need yer beauty sleep.”

You smile a bit, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You do it to placate him. Men don’t always respond well to sharp teeth, and you haven’t decided how you feel about this one yet. He’s too comfortable. His hands are still around your arms, thumbs smoothing too easily over the bone of your shoulders. He’s too close; he steps just nearer to you, tongue sliding over that top row of teeth, and you try not to think about the way his pupils dilate at the terrified look on your face, the one your smile cannot hide. When he tilts his head to the side, you think he means to look curious, but you think it closer to prey playing with its food. The curls of his growing mohawk fall over his forehead, drawing a dark shadow over his eyes, and you can no longer try to see what might give him away in his gaze.

“The light in my…room. I need a new one, I–” You shake your head. “It’s stupid, but I just…I can’t sleep.”

“We’ll get ye all right fer bed, love,” Soap chuckles. “What’s broken, ye ken what kind ye need?”

You blink, biting your lip, thinking. He’s still touching you; he still has his hands around your arms, but now they’ve settled around your elbow, calloused fingers curled over where they rest.

“I’m not sure. The lamp on my desk, it’s–”

“Ach, those are hidin’, I’m sure o’ it,” he lets you go, reaching up and hoisting down a few boxes before reaching for what lies behind them. He carries them on his shoulder before dropping them onto the floor, and you try not to think about watching him work. He’s a large man. Strong, that much is evident, but there’s something off. You think his physical appearance hides what lies inside. He’s pretty, in a way that shouldn’t be allowed. Straight teeth, a killer smile, arms that do not give once they’re taut with use. Even the uniform he wears does nothing to hide thicker thighs and a solid middle; but you try not to let it distract you from what really remains. If he wasn’t so gorgeous, you don’t think he’d get away with that tick that must exist in his brain. The one that allows him to crowd your space without much resistance. The one that lets him smile like that, like he’s won something, like he’s gotten what he wanted not because he fought for it, but because it is what he is owed. 

He bends over and picks up a bulb that looks good enough and hands it to you. When he straightens his back, you try to catch that look in his eyes again. Maybe he knows you’re looking for it, and now he’s hiding it. Maybe he’s cooing in his own head about what a clever girl you are and trying to decide how he’ll play his game differently.

“Can walk ye back, put it in fer ye.”

You take it from him, drawing a shaky breath. You want to say no. You want to tell him you can do it all on your own, that you’re fine, but then the closet door swings open, and a group of tired-looking crew stare at the two of you as they snicker and nudge each other.

“Wot ye doin’, Soap, seven minutes in heaven with the fuckin’ feds?”

“Och–shut the fuck up, the lot o’ ye,” Soap bites back. “Just doin’ her fuckin’ job, just like the rest o’ ye, so get the fuck out the way. Middle of the night, bunch of gobshites.”

Soap puts a hand around the small of your back, guiding you past the group and out into the hallway. He follows you wordlessly back to accommodations, stopping in front of your door. Your name isn’t on it, but you don’t comment about how he knew this was yours. He waits for you to open the door for him before following you inside.

“A right mess, luvvie.”

He doesn’t let you help. He kicks your bin under the desk, carefully discarding of the pieces of glass that are scattered across your desk. He grumbles under his breath about it being too sharp and how he will do it better and how he can take care of ye. 

When the lamp clicks back on, it paints the room in that comforting orange light, and you relax as you take a seat on your bed, clutching the sheets to dry your clammy palms. He still invades your space, but somehow, with the light, it dampens the sentiment. He scares you just a little less, but if you give him just that much, how much will he use it to his advantage?

“Ye need anythin’, I’m…just down there,” Soap says finally. He points behind him, down the north end of the hallway, and all you can do is nod. “Don’t listen to the lot, bonnie,” Soap adds. “Bunch o’ old, tired bastards. Mean no harm. But if they do, ye come ta me, ye hear?”

“Uhm…Soap?” You call out as he’s leaving. You don’t know why you stop him. You don’t know why you’re talking to him; you’re certain he’s not a stranger to telling a good lie. He turns to face you, leaning against the doorway, and you clear your throat. No one should look this good on just a few hours of sleep, but he’s still blinking awake, unsettlingly calm. “This place…it’s safe, right? I mean…safe as it ought to be?”

Soap smiles, but it’s not like his other smiles. It feels unnatural. His teeth are duller. Lips drier. Maybe he’s just tired.

“It’s safe, love. Swear it. Got me on those rivets.”

You don’t know why, but when he comes close to you, you let him. You let him touch your face, thick fingers smoothing down your jaw just a little too rough, big thumb along your bottom lip rubbing just a little too hard. You hear his door shut nearby once he goes.

The ocean screams. You can hear her again now that his voice is no longer around. You fall asleep knowing he’s close, and you pretend not to notice her. Just like always.

[tetzoro]

☽◯☾ - SWORD AND SHEATH

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : After another slew at sea, you and Zoro have the ship all to yourselves as the crew restocks up on the island. They say that curiosity kills the cat, but what happens when you've tamed the beast?

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. zoro roronoa x f!reader ; swordplay, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, mentions of spit, pet names (baby, pretty girl), mentions of squirting, lots of teasing and praise — WC : 5.2k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ First Quarter ! ꒱ ― Kinktober Masterlist

Each glide of the polish-infused cloth along the Wado Ichimonji is slow, refined. Zoro was using his practiced hand to do the process he’s done thousands of times with the blade he cherishes most.

It was a form of art — the way the blade would be reborn with the shine it was always meant to have, no longer weighed down by the blood, dirt, and sweat that would so often coat it.

The sun beats down on him as he continues his ritual. Sword maintenance was just as important as training; it was cathartic, another form of meditation that Zoro relied on to center himself, grow stronger, and keep his tools as efficient as he could. 

Wiping away the horrors each weapon has seen makes him feel a little more cleansed himself. Zoro has never been one to shy away from a fight or doing what he needs to do in order to survive, but the process just reminds him that he won the battle; he’s the one who gets to clean his blades and move onto his next enemy — the next step in his dream.

His wandering mind can’t help but drift back to you — his bright star in the night sky, the one that silently guides him along and encourages his every step on his journey, even going as far as lighting the way when the path seems too dark. 

After a few moments of being with you, he too feels the weight of the blood on his hands fade away as soon as you lovingly take them in yours. The tender skin of your palms kissing, the buzz of being grounded by each squeeze you grant him and he finds himself able to begin again.

Seagulls chirp overhead as he works, polishing his blades with intent, his focus unshakeable even though the world around him demands attention. The gentle lull of the waves, the whispering breeze in the air, he was able to tune it all out.

But the moment you came waltzing onto the deck, his ears perked up and his nose scrunched, signaling that he knew you were there and mentally preparing himself for whatever you had planned next. If only he knew.

“What do you want now?” The last word dies in his throat as he takes you in, freezing in place. You only see it because you know him so well, and have studied his face and all of his expressions far and wide. 

The subtle widening of his eye, barely a fraction of a difference but it’s a difference all the same. The stoic mask he so often wears, acting indifferent to things such as clothes, slips away as no one could ever ward off the power of beauty - especially yours.

The facade begins to chip away as a blush spreads across his face, gears turning in his brain to find something to say as you make your way over to him.

Because today, the Sunny was docked at an island for a routine supply run and you were all too quick to volunteer you and Zoro to stay back and watch the ship together. He should've known right then and there that you were up to no good but your syrupy sweet eagerness disarmed him. 

But now you were stalking closer to him, dressed up entirely in his clothes – or at least some of them. Adorned in his notable green robe, his haramaki, and completed with his bandana securely tied around your head. His gaze rakes over your figure, taking in the way you look wearing one of his favorite outfits. Swallowing hard, his adam's apple bobs in anticipation. He can’t help but feel his throat close up and trap all the words he wishes to say behind a wall of surprise.

“What do you think?” You ask, your lips bending in a coy manner. 

A blush blooms across his tanned skin in a slow crawl, blossoming into a darker shade the more you twirl in his robe that very clearly shows you’re not wearing his pants underneath it.

His jaw clenched, unable to form any words as he continues to drink you in. This was the last thing he expected from you today, but he really should’ve known better.

“You’re blushing.” You grin, going to poke his cheek. But his reflexes were too sharp, instantly swatting your hand away before turning his head away from you.

“Am not! Shut up!” He hisses out, the blush only deepening as you call him out. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, woman.”

“Don’t I?” You move to get back in his line of sight, that disarmingly sweet yet taunting smile still resting on your lips. “Just tell me what you think of the outfit, Zo.”

“You’re wearing my clothes.” He points out, stating the obvious. You don’t bother to hide the way you roll your eyes.

“Very astute of you. Did you have to use your Haki to come to that conclusion?” 

Without another word, Zoro throws you over his shoulder, marching back into the ship and straight for the bunks. You squeal, accusing him of being a brute as you lazily pound your fists against his back. 

Zoro slaps your ass with a sadistic grin that you don’t have the pleasure of seeing before he begins to squeeze and knead the plush flesh, unable to move his firm hand away from it.

He makes his way into the cramped room. It wasn’t his favorite place to take you but it was the closest and climbing up the crow's nest would only cause a delay between him and what he desired most.

After closing the heavy wooden door with the back of his boot, he tosses you onto the bed, letting you sprawl out for him while he places his swords to the side – perfectly lined up as always.

“Wearing my clothes around like this…” Zoro trails off as his eye zeroes in on the way the robe slides off of your shoulder, teasingly exposing the sliver of your chest. He can feel his face heat up all over again. “Are you really not wearing anything under this?”

“Well, the pants didn’t fit me and you don’t normally wear a shirt under this.” The impassive manner in which you said that did not hold a candle to the way your eyes were fired up with a diabolical mirth wrapped up with mischief. Always playing the little minx that would find a way to burrow under his skin and make a home there just to torture him. Or so he says.

“You little...” Zoro quickly crawls over you, caging you in under him, elbows digging into the mattress by your head. “You make it so hard for me sometimes.”

“Do I? Let me feel—” You reach toward his pants but his hand encircles your wrist.

“Oi! That’s not what I meant.” he almost hisses out. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them over your head on the flattened pillow on his bunk.

The thread of control he was clinging onto was no match for the ember of desire you spark in him. One single strike and it would be burnt out, turning into ash and falling right into the palm of your hand. 

“I know.” You giggle. The damn giggle that never fails to cause something within him to flutter, stirring it around until he had no choice but to act on it. 

Surging forward, his lips aggressively capture yours. There’s no room for easing into it, just a clash of teeth knocking together, swirling with a mix of heady groans and needy moans.

But that’s one of his favorite things about kissing you — how you were just unabashed about how messy it would get. Swapping spit through the sheer force of each other's tongues shoving their way into hot, receptive mouths.

The amount of passion and unspoken feelings he’s able to express through this simple act is something he flourishes at, excelling at unraveling you. Gripping your cheeks, he tilts your head back slightly so he can deepen the kiss — as if he was trying to spill the words that stubbornly sat on the tip of his tongue and have it reach the bottom of your heart.

The call for air was growing too difficult to ignore and reluctantly he pulled back, letting the string of saliva snap and drip down your chins. He leans down, kissing the droplet off of your skin, ingesting as much as he possibly can before looking at you.

You look back at him through half-lidded eyes, melting into the bed already from the ferocity of the kiss. His steely eye trails away from your swollen, lust-bitten lips in favor of taking in the way you’re panting under him. Need takes over him as he reaches for your — his — clothes.

Zoro has disrobed himself many times, but he’s never had to take it off of someone else like this. He knows the way it unravels open and leaves his chest all exposed before he fights someone, but this isn’t one of those times.

With a gentleness that only love could bring, he languidly undoes the robe, pulling back a bit so he can see how the green fabric bunches around your sides, your heaving chest now out on display for him.

Peppering a few kisses down your jaw, his tongue trails your neck as he works his way down to your collarbone and your supple chest. Each delicious drag has you squirming under him, whining about him being a tease.

“You’re one to talk.” Zoro gruffs out with a bite of sarcasm, giving your nipple a quick pinch. He relishes in the yelp of his name that you beautifully let out before carefully trailing his slick tongue along your skin. 

The way you mewl as his lips enclose your pert bud only reinforces the primal desire that’s been raging inside of him since you first came out dressed in that damn robe.

After giving your other breast the same treatment, he presses his lips in the middle of your chest and lets it linger so he can inhale one of the sweetest parts of your body — the one that lays closest to your heart.

Zoro presses wet, open-mouthed kisses all along your stomach, moving further down until easily slipping your panties off and tossing them behind him.

Running his fingers along your glistening folds, he holds back a groan at the strings of arousal already clinging to him.

“Already so wet f’me.” His eye was trained at the apex between your thighs, his tongue poking out to lick his bottom lip. “Gonna prep you now.”

Bringing his face closer, he shuts his eye in a hazy bliss as he takes in your scent. The action always made you squirm but he was addicted to every single aspect of your cunt. He could never get enough of your musk, knowing that heaven was only a taste away.

Before you could complain about him taking his time, he dives in.

It wasn't often that Zoro was in a position to praise you relentlessly while his head was normally buried in your heat where you took everything so well for him. 

So, he’s learned to show you his adoration by the precise swirl of his tongue, making out with your clit and giving into every one of your demands. Groaning against your cunt as soon as he got his first taste, never quite getting his fill of it no matter how much he lapped at it.

“Zo – fuck.” The words rush out from your lungs and assimilate into the hazy tension that’s hanging in the sex-filled air. “Feels so good.”

His hands grip your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulder before moving to grab your ass, digging into the plushness and bringing you impossibly closer as he continues his assault.

“Tastes s’fucking good.” He slurs, the sound presses directly against your clit. Zoro's attention flickered back up to you, dark and stormy eye swirling around with a primal hunger as if he couldn’t ever get enough. “My sweet girl.”

You let out a soft whine as you clutch his hair, guiding him even closer as his tongue slips into your entrance.

He keeps at it, pinching your thigh — a demanding little code he uses when he wants to hear you more. Your saccharine moans, addictingly lewd mewls, and honeyed murmurs of praise.

“Please don’t stop, ah, ‘m getting close!” There was no way Zoro would stop. Not even if he wanted to tease you, not when he was so lost in your taste that all he wanted to do was let you pull him under your current and drown in it.

He vigorously continues to lap at your entrance, attempting to collect every drop of your sweet essence. His nose nudges your clit and he can feel your thighs begin to tremble, locking his head in place. He moves to focus his attention there, the flat of Zoro’s tongue adds more pressure onto the throbbing bud.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as your back raises from the mattress when Zoro collects your puffy clit in his mouth, sucking as hard as he can. You choke back a whimper, letting out a noise you’ve hardly ever released before as you claw at his head, humping his face for more.

“Zoro — fuck! Wait, it’s too much!" The words melt into an elongated moan, losing yourself to the drowsy delirium that zoro is spelling out against the bundle of nerves. He gives out a resounding grunt, gripping you tighter in encouragement. 

It’s all you need to let go.

Thank god no one else was on the ship because they might’ve heard the way you cried out his name in ultimate bliss as the taut band within you fully snapped. Zoro didn’t stop, lapping up the slick that gushed from your sweet pussy.

The bottom half of his face glistens in your arousal and he was absolutely drunk off of it as if it was a bottle of the finest sake in the world.

“Keep 'em spread open for me baby, ‘m not done yet,” Zoro said, sitting back on his haunches and taking in your already fucked out expression. “Need you to do that again.”

After sliding off his pants, he grips the base of his cock, giving it a few tentative pumps as his eyes trail back over your body, covered in a sheen of desire. 

If he didn’t crave to be inside of you so badly he would’ve come all over you, making you as messy as possible. His dick twitches at the thought, heat curling in his gut as he imagines you covered in the white of his essence.

“Zoro.” You gasp out, hands digging into the slightly sweaty sheets. The desperation and utter need that coats your husky voice almost does him in. But you’ve had too much control over him today, and he had to gain some of that back.

“Look at you.” Zoro's voice is low, dark and merciless. The deep desire that overtakes him and makes his words more gravely and coarse, sanding over your skin so gratifying it leaves your hips bucking up for more. The sight below him is surely one of his favorites and he plans on drawing it out for as long as he can. “All spread out for me in my bed, still in my clothes.”

Zoro leans forward, lightly tapping his cock against your sticky folds and nudging it through to your entrance, just resting it at your opening, not yet pushing in. His fingers dig deeper into your waist, keeping you in place before you can think about rolling your hips against him, trying to suck him in with all your might. 

“You’re so mean.” A pitiful pout rests on your pretty lips and he almost gives in. Almost. But he knows you so well by now, knows that you’re used to getting exactly what you want and it only makes him want to ruin you more. To put you in a place where all you want is him, all you crave is his touch. And you’re teetering right on the edge, only a simple nudge and you’ll be falling right into his trap. 

“Yeah?” One of his hands returns to his cock, reddened tip angrily staring at you as he starts to pump himself over your mound, spreading his precum all over his length as he preps himself for you. “That’s not going to get you what you want though.”

“Please, Zoro.” You barely breathe out, your need for him so great that it starts to turn painful, the dull ache spreading through your body like a wildfire, screaming out for relief as the flames of desire consume you. You’ve had a taste but you needed more.  The only thing that would satiate you was his cock sliding deep within you. “Please, I'm sorry. Please don’t tease me, come on.”

The whine in your voice has his dick twitching in his hand, ego fueling the blood coursing through his veins. Zoro wasn’t a power-hungry man, he never cared for it in the same way most people did. He liked being strong, he demanded respect, but never wanted to lead — to rule.

But that all changed whenever he’d have you sprawled out beneath him. feeling like the king of the world as one of the most desired women only has eyes for him, begging for his cock, yearning for his love. 

He’d give into you every time, his heart too weak to win against the love he had for you, but he tried to stave it off as much as he could.

“Only if you think you can handle it.” He smirks, tip catching against your clit, your body jolting forward. “See? You’re already so sensitive just from my mouth.”

“Dammit Zoro.” Another mewl that his cock leaps at. Frustration etches across your features, water pooling in your eyes as you continue to paw at him. It’s what he was waiting for — his pretty girl reduced to putty in his hand, ready to be played with. “Please.”

Something possesses him with the plea that pierces his heart — takes over the last cognitive brain cell he has as he lets out an exaggerated spit, the glob landing on his length.

Your breath hitches as he finally pushes himself all the way in, the stretch splitting you open to the point that no noise can come out, finally feeling full of what you’ve been waiting for all day. 

“You turned me into this — fuck — made me like this,.” Zoro swears, his arm wrapping around your back and pulling you flush against him as he feels the way your greedy cunt keeps him snugly in place.

“Are you really complaining about that?” Your voice almost slips into a whine as he pulls back out a little before bullying his way through you as your cunt accommodates his girth — eagerly welcoming him back in. 

“So tight, look at that.” He ignores your snark, opting to fixate on the way you’re swallowing him whole, slack-jawed and practically drooling over the sight. “Made for me.”

You clench at his words which rewards you with one of his sinful grunts, his head bowing slightly as you pulse around his throbbing length.

“Mhm,” You hum, digging your nails into his shoulders, little crescent moons blooming in its place. He lets out a hiss, snapping his hips all the way back in, nudging against your cervix. “Just fuck me already.”

“Always running your mouth off like a damn brat.” He glares down at you but there’s no bite to it — not with the amused crinkles that cradle his eyes with care.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Famous last words.

But Zoro didn’t do what he usually did; flipping you over and fucking you deep in the mattress until the only thing your mouth can do is sing out his name like a mantra.

His eye held the secrets of unspoken words, a question that he refused to waste his breath on — not when he already knew how to decipher the language of his gaze.

You trust me?

As easy as breathing.

Breathy pants escape his lungs as he keeps a steady pace, looking at you. No matter how many times he’s had you under him, you never fail to weaken him.

“I think it’s time we complete your little ensemble here.” 

“Huh?” Zoro doesn’t answer you as he reaches for the Wado Ichimonji. You shift under him in anticipation.

“Relax, baby. I just want you to hold this for me.”

The heavy hilt lays in your mouth, muffling any of the moans that tried to escape it. Zoro's calloused hand runs along your cheek, down your jaw and chin as he appraises the view before him.

The look in his steely gaze was one you were familiar with but with an edge of possession — pride.

Countless times this treasured weapon has been wielded in his own mouth, fighting to protect himself, but more importantly, his crew. Seeing you laid out under him with a lust-blown look in your eye as tears brim your lashes is something else entirely.

“That's it. Keep holding onto it,” His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he slowly begins to thrust back into you. “Just like that.”

You let out a soft whine that sounded like a muffled version of his name. Compulsion drives him to quicken his pace, moving slow and steady until your body jiggles under the ferocity of each stroke.

“There you are. Keep it there for me and I'll take care of you, alright?” 

True to his word, Zoro keeps pounding into you, his other hand trailing down your body and grabbing every bit of you he can get his hand on before his fingers catch your neglected nub between them.

The way you effortlessly clean his dirty hands, having his sword fit in your mouth like this makes it feel like it’s being cleansed in the most pure form possible. Each rapid rock of his hips has your jaw clenching down against it further, all of your enticing noises are muffled by the intricately woven hilt.

“Fuck, perfect.” The praise spills out of his mouth and pools into your gut. “So fucking perfect.”

The hilt started to slip, threatening to clatter against the floor and finishing all the work he had done on it earlier. 

“Hold it.” He hisses, “Don’t let it fall.”

His hips urgently move faster, thrusting harder into you as you try your best to grip the sword in your mouth. But he knows how strenuous it can be on his teeth and jaw, so his hand slips up to cup yours. 

Once you steady the sword, his hand trails down the sheath but his eye never leaves yours. With a bated breath, he begins to slide the sheath off, watching as your eyes widen in curiosity but make no protest to stop him.

The blade was now out, facing him and gleaming under the rays of light that poured into the room from the tiny window. The sight had his hips stuttering — the element of risk now flirting with his innermost desires. 

You were perfectly safe in his arms, he was the one who should be worried. He knows how sharp those blades are, how a tiny graze could pierce his skin.

Yet the siren call of the silver glint beckons him as it sits so prettily in your mouth — a tantalizing sight. You may be the one under him but he was the one surrendering to your power.

Many more possibilities flashed in his mind, darker desires that had him pressing his chest flush against yours, the Wado Ichimonji only a few inches away from him.

But perhaps another time he could fully indulge in the temptations that swam around in his mind, wondering how far you two could go for each other.

For now, he missed kissing you, missed your lips on his, consuming the very air from his lungs and replacing it with your sweet noises that breathe him back to life. So he bends down further, expertly taking the hilt in his mouth and pulling it from yours.

He gives you a few deep thrusts before he rises up, ready to put the sword aside but your arm stops him.

The look in your eyes mirrors the same desire that licks at his gut, and he knows you two are on the same page — just like always. 

“You want me to keep it out?” Zoro can’t hide the tone of surprise in his voice as he lazily humps against your hips. You give him a shy nod. “Why?”

“It could be fun.” The way you’re looking at him right now is killing him, slowly shredding away all of his worries and pushing him into the pits of temptation. 

“It could be dangerous.”

“But isn’t that exciting?” Zoro swallows hard. It could very well be exciting, showcasing your trust for one another but…

“I don't want to hurt you.” He couldn't live with that, knowing that one of his blades had hurt you in a way you didn’t want. He'd rather slit his stomach open than do that. 

“You wouldn’t but I'll tell you if it does, I promise.” You reach up and caress his cheeks with a tenderness that has him choking for air. “Our safe word can be… sake.”

“Okay.” The unease that previously rested on his shoulders flows down his back and far away from him as he lets out a soft chuckle. “Sake it is, you ready baby?”

After a quick nod, Zoro brings the Wado back between your two joined bodies.

The cool metal kisses your skin as it trails along a precise path with absolutely zero intention to harm. But to have the infamous pirate hunter Zoro hover over you, a dark gaze latched onto the point of his katana to your skin that’s budding with gooseflesh sends a chill down your spine.

It takes everything in you not to arch at the thrill, the simple act could nick your skin and end this before it even begins.

“How's that?” Zoro's voice sounds a million miles away as your blood thrums loudly in your ear. The swordsman lets out a groan as you salaciously clench around him, his fist tightening around the hilt as he continues to glide the metal along your skin. 

“So good,” Your breath hitches as he continues to graze it over your collarbone. “Knew you wouldn’t hurt me, Zo.”

“Never.” He gruffs out, trying to keep his eye open although the fluttering of your walls tempts him to shut them in bliss. He doesn’t know how much longer he can hold out like this.

Trust could be hard to find in this new world, he was lucky to find a crew that he knew would always have his back throughout everything. but this? This was so much more than that.

To be able to have you in the most vulnerable position imaginable with a blade dancing along your skin, and enjoying it not because of the act itself, but because of the trust and respect the two of you have built for each other, growing into something he’d never dream of attaining. 

If he wasn’t careful, he could finish right now as pleasure shoots down his spine, desperately begging to fill you up. But the last thing he’d ever do was leave you ever wanting more. 

Gently putting the blade aside, he ravenously crashes back into you with a new spark of ardor — chest to chest, ferociously driving into your cunt before his lips meet yours once again.

He kissed you and tasted the familiar steel, but mixed with your sweetness that he’d never stop chasing as long any time he’d have to put this blade in his mouth.

“So fuckin’ good.” The words sink into your lips, unable to move away from you for too long. His hips erratically move now, no set rhythm as they chase the high you both desperately seek. Your nails claw into his back and force a guttural groan out of him, wanting nothing more than for you to mark up his whole body. “So fucking good for me.”

Zoro never minded pain, it came with the territory of who he is. But having you inflict it on him was the sweetest sin he’s ever known, his body bursting with pleasure as it threatens to come undone and feed into all of your desires.

“Zo-!” you gasp out, tears brimming with droplets of devotion that he can’t wait to lick up. “‘m close!”

The sweet sound of your cries only fuels him more.

“Go ahead baby, let go.” His gaze is trained on your expressions, soaking them up as it morphs into an unyielding force of pleasure.

As your back arches up into him, he’s quick to flatten his palm there, keeping you flush against him. He can feel every tremor and tremble, each of your nerves and neurons firing off and coursing through your veins.

A wave of ecstasy crashes over your body, freezing each of your limbs in place and threatens to drag you to oblivion. 

“Almost there, just a little longer.” Zoro pumps into you, your cunt clamping down on him to the point he almost has to pull out as you squirt all over his lower half and the already messed up sheets. “That’s it, fuck yes-“

Zoro begins to release in your cunt with a grunt of your name, letting you milk his cock as his body shudders in the eternal bliss you so readily provide him. He pulls out at the last rope of cum, letting it land on your mound before he nudged your clit with his softening cock, ensuring to make a mess all over your pussy.

“Zoro!” your body jolts, fingers gripping his bicep. “‘m sensitive.”

“Then come here baby.” Zoro pulls you into his strong arms, carefully eyeing the blade that was still unsheathed and still set aside. 

Zoro's calloused fingers catch your earlobe, gently massaging it as he inspects it.

“You know, you still need one more piece.” Zoro's gaze is intense as it sets on you. His hands trail down your body, lightly massaging it as he works his way down in a soothing manner.

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“When the others get back, we’re going into town so we can get you your own pair of earrings.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Just like me.”

“Really?” The mind fogginess of the shared desire breaks away from the way beams of light emit when you smile at him.

He nods, brushing his lips alongside the temple of your head. Zoro presses his nose into your hair and inhales it.

“Quit sniffing me.” You let out an amused scoff.

“Nah, you just smell so damn good like this.” His lips move to kiss along your face, pressing into your neck before inhaling once again.

“You mean sweaty?”

“Drenched in sweat, arousal and me.” His voice is low in your ear and you crinkle your nose at the strange, but endearing compliment.

“Freak.” You tease, snuggling into him, feeling the way his muscles ripple around you in his strong, unrelenting hold.

“Takes one to know one.” He chuckles, feeling his body start to settle from the intensity of his high, melting into you and the mattress as a nap threatens to take hold. But he just had one more question. “So, if you’re dressed as me, does that mean you can drink sake as well as me?”

“Maybe we should find out.”

tags: @thesunxwentblack @autumnstuffs

[izvmimi]

cw: fluff/comfort-ish although it's an overall mild conversation. mention of kidnapping.

Luffy is acting strange.

A little strange might be the baseline for him, of course, but what you’ve noticed in the past 12 hours or so is a bit different than his normal flavor of strange - he’s being odd when it comes to you. 

Your shadow as always, but oddly stiff, Luffy has been navigating around you far too carefully, as if you were to shatter the moment he touched you. His hands hover gently over any part of your body but he avoids touching you unnecessarily; you notice he’s hesitant to hold your hand, and from the moment you woke up this morning, disoriented slightly by the sudden rock of the ship by an unexpectedly large wave, you noticed his modest distance, his forehead gently pressed against the back of your head and his arm loosely draped over your hip, rather than coiled around you like a snake.

Careful, gentle.

It’s so unlike him it makes you nervous. 

“Luffy,” you start finally, once the two of you have a quiet moment, hanging back in the kitchen. Everyone has left by now for their own pursuits after dinner - a few comments about Luffy’s appetite being slightly less terrifying than usual notwithstanding, he was relatively normal. But he’s lingered, crossing his legs on his chair in that familiar pose of his. You didn’t rise, Robin being kind enough to help clear all the dishes, even the half-eaten meal before you (again unthinkable with Luffy around).

The longer you think about it, perhaps the two of you were left alone here on purpose.

Luffy doesn’t respond immediately to the sound of your voice and you repeat his name again, letting your head rest on his shoulder. You can tell he has something to say but is unsure what, and coax him gently to speak by running your hand down the length of his forearm, interlacing your fingers together once you reach the hand.

He turns slowly to you, and the look on his face is apologetic more than anything, surprising for a man who limits emotions more complex than anger and joy in his expression.

“I’m happy you’re safe,” he says, simply.

Yesterday you were kidnapped on your stroll through the city, while Luffy had deviated off your path for a moment to peer at all things shiny and good-smelling. You didn’t immediately follow, and used to Luffy’s lazy but alarming practical yoinks of your body in space, snapping towards his side, you weren’t too automatically surprised when your feet suddenly left the ground.

Until you were face to face with an individual that was decidedly not Luffy at all.

The aftermath of all of that was settled quickly, a flurry of fists and yells quickly resolving the issue, but that wasn’t the part that lingers in Luffy’s psyche.

“I wasn’t in any danger, really,” you insist, and you mean it, not even a singular bruise on your skin, or a hair out of place.

You squeeze Luffy’s hand then smile at him brightly, trying to raise his spirits, even if only in the way the moon reflects back the sun’s shine. He knows it’s true even if it doesn’t necessarily fix things.

He twists his mouth to the side.

“That’s not the problem, is it?” you ask, sensing his continued discomfort. “You can’t expect things like that to not happen, we all have bounties, and-”

“You thought it was me.”

You blink, taken aback, and Luffy lets go of your hand for a moment as he turns fully to face you.

“I came out right when you got grabbed, and you didn’t scream at first until you saw it wasn’t me.”

You pause, letting his implication sit in.

“Luffy, what are you trying to say?” you ask.

He pauses for a moment, mulling the words in his mouth again, and your eyebrow furrows.

“You’ve said I was too rough with you before, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

You open your mouth and close it, considering the fact that you wouldn’t be surprised if he threw you off a cliff with the promise to catch you at the bottom, as it wouldn’t help. 

“I trust you, Luffy,” you say instead, unexpected Gum-Gum Rockets aside. “It’s okay if you get excited, I know that you love me and would never hurt me.”

He pauses for a moment, eyeing you as if to detect any softening of the truth, and perhaps you are smoothing over the truth, but you are telling the truth.

The rowdy man before you, a little too strong for his own good, perhaps passionate as ever, never means to hurt you, and loves you terribly.

“I’m sturdier than you think,” you remind him. With that, you offer him a kiss on the cheek, which warms him, and he’s quick to take your own face in his two hands, the grin back on his face.

“I’ll be more careful,” he still promises anyway.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be a little playful at all,” you remind him, your hands gently covering his.

“I want you to feel safe with me,” he finally says, in a soft voice and you offer him back the biggest widest smile.

“There’s no safer place than when I'm with you.”

[thecordelialetters]

She's my Angel I Five Hargreeves x Reader

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Post Apocalypse Au! Pt2 Pt3

WC: ~3,258 Warnings/Tags: Sexual Tension, Mentions of Abuse, Agedup!Five, Mentions of previous trauma, 18+

Summary: The Umbrella Academy saved the world, the Commission is no longer after them, the moon is in one piece and everyone’s lives start to fall back into place. Five attempts to start his life over again when Klaus brings home a girl with unusual shadow powers. ⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡

˚

The Apocalypse was over and Five Hargreaves did what he did best, drink and cope. The first few weeks of freedom he tried things he had missed early on in his childhood. It started when Viktor took him shopping for a new, more appropriate wardrobe, that someone who looked his age would wear. Then he would often visit the park just to admire the beauty of places that were once a baron landscape. And sometimes he just spent his time reading catching up on what he missed in the last few years.

But old habits die hard when you spend 54 years alone and the next 2 weeks desperate to save yourself and save your family. Maybe Klaus was right when he called the apocalypse his drug because, for a while, it was all he’d ever know.

Five hadn’t slept well in a long time and despite his newfound freedom without the looming feeling of impending doom. He would find himself waking up at 4 am to check his window and just to see if everything was real.

The Academy had been empty for a bit, the first week his family had stayed back to collect themselves, celebrate, and appreciate one another but slowly their lives fell back into place. Allison went back to Claire wanting to get back her career and her daughter back. Luther wanted to find his independence and took a small helping from his inheritance to live on his own. Diego and Lila had also moved out in hopes of continuing to grow their relationship and perhaps find happiness in normalcy. Viktor, now confident in himself wanting to explore the world more began traveling and meeting new people. To Five it felt like everyone had moved on, except him. He had been the one to jump through time, and now he felt like he was stuck in it.

However this morning, his silent coffee and breakfast time was interrupted but a surprisingly sober Klaus barging through the door with a girl no taller than 5’3 who looked as if she had been dragged through the mud and a forest in his arms.

“I didn’t know where to bring her she ran into me frantic and couldn’t speak much,”

“There wasn’t anyone chasing her so I have no idea where she came from and she’s in pretty bad shape.”

Klaus looked panicked, he felt bad for the beat-up girl in his arms but what could he do besides bring her to the place he knew could help her best.

Grace and Pogo immediately took action, bringing the girl into the spare room to care for her wounds.

“What makes you think you can just bring random people in here? She could be dangerous?”

Five arched his eyebrow at Klaus’s behavior. He wasn’t a trusting man but he trusted his brother’s intuition and the girl genuinely looked like she needed help.

“I couldn’t just leave her on the road. I’m not a bad person Five. There’s something different about her I swear.”

Five looked distrustful at what his brother was saying.

“Well, we’ll just have to see when she wakes up.”

The two went back to doing their own things in the Academy waiting for you to wake up.

————————-3 days later————————

The sun shone brightly in the room you stayed at. Your eyes slowly opened, blinking harshly to adjust to the shining light. You had no idea where you were, this new place was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. Warm wood furniture decorated the walls, and the mattress you slept on seemed more comfy, soft, and warmer than your old hay-filled cot. Unsurprisingly your wounds ached but were clean nevertheless. You jumped when the door swung open to reveal a monkey? no an ape? in a suit. "Ah you're finally awake, Ill let the others know"

"I am Pogo by the way, please rest, we don't want your stitches reopening." Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you listened to his words and laid back, staring at the large high ceilings waiting to see if whoever brought you here would be like your old doctors. Back downstairs Pogo noticed Five pacing around in the living room. "Any troubles worrying you?" "Yes that girl, I can't find any information about her, she had no ID, no name card, I even looked around the area trying to track back where she came from, and nothing." Five glanced around, more cautious of his surroundings

"What if the commission sent her?" "This is not good, not good at all"

And with a quick turn, he teleported to the room of which his unwelcome guest occupied. A flash of blue interrupted your daydreams when a boy about your age in a green flannel, cargo pants, with slightly long side parted hair entered your space. Besides appearing out of nowhere he looked almost normal, but that didn't stop you from being scared. Shivering you pushed yourself back on the bed as far as you could to try to get away from him. Sensing your fear Five held out his hands as a way to show you some form of peace. Lowering one hand he slowly approached you. But the closer he came the farther back you shuffled. Something wasn't right Five thought. You were terrified of him, what had happened to you to cause you to be in such a state.

Hey Im not going to hurt you, I don't know who you are but Im not going to hurt you." Five could see that you weren't budging so he reached into his pocket and pulled out a hazelnut toffee-flavored candy. He wasn't a big fan of sweets but had kept some from his last visit to a local coffee shop. "Here you must be a little hungry, it's good to see." He popped it in his mouth to show her that it was safe, not a trick. Slowly you reached out and touched his hand, grabbing the little treat, unwrapping it before letting the gooey sweet melt on your tongue. Five smiled at your reaction. "See? It was good." He thought you looked adorable with big doe eyes waiting to see if he had any more. He reached into his right pocket and pulled out another handle full of candies. "Ill give you one each time you answer a question. Can you do that for me?" You nodded slowly. "Okay, can you tell me your name?" "Angel" you pointed to yourself "Five" you pointed to him. You had heard Klaus shouting his name when you entered the house. "Angel? Do you have a last time?" "Five. Five Hargreeves" He pointed to himself. "Angel" You repeated. Okay maybe you didn't have a last name that was fine, at least he had gotten a name. He gave you another candy and watched you excitedly open it. "Okay Angel, another question where did you come from? Who or what were you running from?" "Doctor" you responded looking down. "What Doctor? What did he do to you." You felt like you should have known better than to trust the boy in front of you, but he looked so earnest so sweet, that you decided to show him your secret. Opening your fist a ball of shadows appeared in your hand before you tossed it into the air letting whatever light was in the room dissipate. Five knew what this had suggested. Whoever took you, held you captive, and experimented on you. Perhaps they were trying to make you into one of the unlucky 43. Another candy was handed to you.

“Show me more” Five demanded. You blinked at him slowly before he put another candy in your hand. “Show me.”

You looked at him and brought both your hands up into the air. He watched shadows run from the ground into the room and swirl around you. It appeared you could summon shadows at your will and control them.

“Good girl” and another candy as placed in your hand. "Tell me, Angel, do you know where or who it was? Do you know the name of the commission?" You stared at him blankly not understanding what he said. Before Five could ask any more questions Klaus had burst through the door. "My Angel! You are okay !" As he rushed towards you to grab your face. Stunned you jolted back from his presence. "Angel, that's why she called herself that, it's not her name, it’s what you called her!" Five went to smack Klaus in the back of the head when his hand was stopped by a shadow. "No hurt, Klaus friend" With heart eyes, Klaus dove into Angel's arms "LOOK AT MY ANGEL PROTECTING ME!!" With the gentleness of a newborn deer, Angel reached out to Klaus with a small sweet in her hand. "Candy?" "For me? Of course, Angel thank you!" Rolling his eyes at the scene Five teleported to his room to think. Where had this girl come from she had no name could barely speak and had a dark power with unknown consequences. Angel clad in Umbrella Academy uniform, and Klaus were in the living room when a flash appeared in the doorway. "Cinco! Where are you off to?" "Library I need to do some research." But just before he would reach for the doorknob a body was flung into his back. "Here take Angel with you, she needs a new set of clothes, can't have her wearing this uniform, you know all about that wouldn't you?" Klaus said as he shoved Angel forward. "I don't have time, I'm not a babysitter." Five expressed as he grabbed your arms and pushed you back. "Five...mad?" You looked up at Five with tears in your eyes. Reaching out to his face with his hand you softly pet his cheek. "Five...happy. Happy"

The time travelers face softened at the kindness you showed while trying to console him.

“I’m sorry Angel, yes Five is happy. Come on let’s go.”

He grabbed your hand ignoring the feeling of his heart when your soft skin wrapped around his.

————————-In the Car—————————

“Alright Angel, as cute as you look in the uniform we have to get you some normal clothes.”

Five looked over at you, but you were looking out the window. His green eyes passed over the cuts on your legs and the faint but visible bruises on your neck. It wondered him how someone could do this to you, turn a girl who seemed like an Angel into a shadow user. He parked the car at Gimble's before flashing to your side of the door to open it, Five was still a gentleman after all. "Okay now Angel, we're here to buy you some new clothes." You nodded your head to show you understood him and hopped out of the car excited to see the world around you. Being locked up for so long you had forgotten what the outside world looked like. Today the sky was blue with warm gusts of winds filling the air. People and families were seen chattering about. You reached out to grab Five's arm and pulled him closer to the store. Five chucked at your childlike antics, letting himself be whisked away by you. You dragged him to the dress section; some of the kinder doctors had given you books to look at to pass the time, many of them being princess books. There were cute frilly dresses that caught your eye immediately. Rushing forward you grabbed 3 dresses that might have suited you. With a sigh Five grabbed your shoulders wanting to tell you to go find some more practical everyday clothes. But after seeing the glimmer in your eye as if you found the most priceless thing...he couldn't bear take that away from you. "Come on Princess, let's go try them on." He ushered you to the changing room and waited outside. As he turned his back you grabbed his hand, but Five had yanked it back at the unexpected contact. He wasn't completely used to physical touch yet.

Ignoring this you grabbed his hand once more and tried to take him into the dressing room with you. "No Angel I can't go with you, just put on the dresses inside and Ill wait out here."

You had refused to let go of his hand. With another sign he allowed himself to be pulled into the confined space of the changing room. You quickly shimmied out of the uniform skirt and tie throwing it into a random corner. Five's face turned a deep scarlet red, although he was an older man the sight of your small and barely clothes body was enough to make him shift in his pants. Before he could embarrass himself any further he blinked out into the waiting room fanning his face as if he ran a marathon. There were small warning signs in his brain, don't get too attached, she doesn't know better, please don't get a boner right now. Trying to collect himself he put his hands in his face wanting to be anywhere but here right now. You interrupted his train of thought when you came out bouncing with a big smile on your face. The dress you picked out was a cute white summer dress that was white had thick straps tied on your shoulders. The skirt part stopped right above your knees and flared out with a twirl. You looked absolutely adorable, an Angel who wielded the power of a devil. "You look...beautiful" Five muffled through his hand. "Beautiful?" You questioned. "Yes you, Angel, you are beautiful." And as if your smile couldn't get any bigger, you ran and jumped into Five, his arms slowly wrapping around your frame to prevent you from falling.

"Five! Beautiful!" You smiled and pointed at him. Your fingers had graced his cheeks into a smile. Pointing at his dimple "Five! Beautiful" you repeated. "Oh, you think I'm beautiful Angel?" Five couldn't help but also feel happy and continue smiling, something about you felt like a breath of fresh air. His last few weeks had been nonstop paranoia and feeling the effects of an identity crisis, but hearing your laughter and seeing you call him beautiful, it felt as if he was actually living again. However, that didn't stop the nagging fear in the back of his mind of where you came from and what had happened to you. Perhaps it was the assassin in him that just couldn't let him...enjoy a moment. "Come on Angel, let’s get the rest of the dresses and pay. We need to head to the library before it closes." You nodded your head and skipped off to grab the rest of your dresses and clothes. You and Five stood at the cashier waiting to pay. "That will be 45.78." Five pulled out a 50 and felt your head lean on his shoulder. "Five, thank you." You looked up at him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. As he was retrieving his change you leaned up and placed your soft lips on the corner of his mouth. "Five happy?" He looked down at you and blushed "Yes Five is very happy." ————————The Library—————————- You were sat in Five's lap flipping through a picture book while he was doing research. Unfortunately, there was almost no information about any kind of suspicious activities in the area where they had found you or even how you even got to the city. Five had to expand his research on places that might have to do with experimental tests but with so little access he was found himself at a dead end. "Nothing! Absolutely Nothing!" Five yelled before slamming his notebook on the table. You jumped in his lap and covered your ears, eyes filling with heavy teardrops waiting to fall. "Shit Angel Im sorry come here." He cooed wrapping his arms around you for the fourth time today. Five pressed a kiss to the top of your hair and inhaled slowly. You smelt like a blooming meadow and a hint of cinnamon. Closing his eyes he rested his head on yours. It wasn't been often when he felt a peace like this, heck he didn’t even remember the last time he felt calm, other than when he was drinking or passed out after a mission. Your eyelashes fluttered on his neck as you began to press small kisses on his jawline. "Come on Angel what are you doing?" "Make Five happy. Kiss you" You mumbled and continued leaving marks on his neck and jaw. Five clenched his fists around you "Angel if you keep this us I'm not going to be able to hold back." Five groaned as he pulled you closer into his lap. And with his last bit of resolve, he blinked you guys back into the car. "Come on Angel let's go home." He kissed your cheek slightly to assure you he wasn't mad and drove the two of you back. ————————the academy———————--- "Mi hermano and Angel ! You guys are back" Klaus shouted from the couch he was currently lying on. You ran into the living room jumping in front of Klaus to show off your dress.

"My cutie Angel! You look so pretty!"

Klaus then swept you off your feet and into a fit of giggles. Five, who had been observing the scene from the bar was actively trying to fight off the green monster that was creeping up his heart. "Leave her alone Klaus we had a long day. Come on Angel let's have your shower and get ready for bed." It was obvious you needed to be cared for and Five had already begun to assume the role. Pulling out some extra pajamas Five had in his wardrobe he handed them to you before showing you the bathroom. "Shower here and come back to my room when you are done okay?" You nodded back and went into the bathroom. With a sign Five flopped on his back in bed wondering more about you. How could someone he just met cause him to feel such a way? Maybe it was his messed up time-traveling brain that was causing these emotions but deep down he knew he had a hidden attraction to you. He began to think more about your powers. You couldn't be part of the 43 because you were too young but you also showed an understanding of your abilities and more control than Viktor did when he first found out about his. Five would have to talk to you after you shower about your abilities. Small footsteps padded outside his room before stopping. The door swung open and there you stood wrapped in only a small towel Grace had given you. Five green eyes turned wide as you skipped into his room.. You had turned to grab the pajamas he had left you on the bed and dropped your towel. Five sat up instantly, his eyes wandered over the curve of your breasts and the plumpness of your backside. Being in the apocalypse and focused on getting back home to his family never allowed him much time for romance or women, besides Delores. You stood up as bare as the day you were born, nipples perked up at the cold air and you put the silk top and bottom on. Now properly clothed you turned to Five who was staring at you with eyes that rivaled a burning sun. In a blink, he was in front of you grabbing your waist with such a force it felt like you would disappear if he let go. Bringing his lips to your neck he kissed gently and dragged his face to meet your eyes. Soft despreate lips met plump shy ones as you and Five melted into each other. The kiss grew hungry, more desperate, both parties missing the feel of one another. The two of you fell back onto the bed with Five on top of you. Two souls both isolated from the world finally finding solstice in one another. All the questions Five had for you were gone from his mind, the only thing replacing it was the thought of how your body felt against his. A small hand reached into the front of Five's pants. "I want to help Five" You had whispered into his ear. It was going to be a long night.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ Authors note : I kinda of wrote this on a whim in the middle of the night. I’d want to make this into a full series although and go really in depth about Angel who she is and how she got her powers and I defiantly want to bring back the rest of the Hargreaves but I'm not sure when Ill have another creative burst.

[criminalamnesia]

ok this is the end of the little tolerate it series— BUT I’m writing two different endings!! so here’s ending 1 :)

part one here and part two here

ending version 2 here

when he saw you that day on the street and tried to stop you, you had kept walking. hadn’t even turned your head, as if you knew it was him speaking.

of course you’d known it was him. he couldn’t blame you for ignoring him, honestly— he had been awful to you. he fully recognized that now, after years of being alone and mandated therapy and an honorable discharge.

he recognized how he let the one good thing in his life slip through his fingers, all because he was too damn wrapped up in himself. but he had a right to be.

he had a right to not want to celebrate coming home. had a right to want peace and quiet once escaping from the sounds of war and death. he just should’ve communicated that with you instead of pulling away.

he’s grown. he understands now. and he knows you don’t owe him anything— hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you slapped him across the face for this, but he needed to try.

he knew it was selfish of him. you’d moved on, surely. years had passed and you’d grown. he’s sure that naivety he once found charming is long gone, most likely from his doing.

he takes a deep breath, fist raised to knock on the door to your house. it’s small and quaint. something he definitely could’ve seen you picking out when the two of you had still been together. maybe not all of you had changed.

he’d gotten the address through Laswell as a parting gift. and he didn’t know why it was the one thing that came to mind— but it was, and now he’s here. standing on your porch with his fist in the air like a fucking creep.

he pushes out an exhale and knocks. all is silent inside the house, and he knocks again, the second one easier than the first.

“coming!” he hears you call from inside. he steels himself. readies himself for attack, for battle. it was something he couldn’t quite shake, even if he’d been retired for a year now. those instincts really never leave you.

the door swings open, and the smile you were sporting instantly drops.

“what are you doing here?” there’s venom in your tone. he doesn’t shy away.

“love—” he begins, but you scoff and start to shut the door.

“actually, I don’t want to know. get off my porch before I call the cops—”

before the door can click shut, he reaches a hand out and blocks you from fully shutting it. you look down at his hand, bewildered.

“move your hand.” you speak through gritted teeth. he stands his ground.

“love,” he starts again, pushing the words out quickly to avoid getting cut off again. “y’don’t owe me anythin’ and I know that. but can I at least apologize? please?”

you stare at him. he keeps his hand in the door, watching your face intently. he can’t tell what’s going on behind your eyes.

you take a beat. two. three. then you shut your eyes tightly as you inhale, open them as you release the breath, and open the door wider.

“you’ve got five minutes to speak your piece, and I hope you know I’m doing this for you, not me. I got over you a long time ago, and because I see myself as a halfway decent person, I’m going to let you do this. then you can leave and never come back. understand?”

he gives a small nod. “understood.”

you step aside and he enters your house, eyes already scanning his surroundings. it’s cute and airy, comfortable and full of you.

pictures of you and friends on the walls. lamps that look a hundred years old on end tables. big windows letting the sun shine in and onto a plethora of plants. colorful artwork and pillows and fabrics. it’s a house full of you, of life, and he finds himself envying it.

he doesn’t know why. maybe because it’s something so normal, and something he’s never experienced. he didn’t get that before he left home, and he certainly didn’t get it in the military. he still doesn’t have it now. he’s still struggling to figure out who he is without a gun in his hand.

“nice place,” he says, and he means it.

you roll your eyes as you walk towards the blue, comfortable looking couch situated to the right. he follows dutifully.

you gesture towards the couch, and he takes the hint. he sits down, sinking into the cushion, and watches as you move to stand across from him. he knows you’re putting distance between the two of you. he doesn’t blame you.

you were never the problem.

he was.

“five minutes, starting now. best believe I’m timing your ass,” you mutter out, pulling your phone from your pocket and tapping the screen. setting a timer, most likely.

best to get on with it, then.

“I owe you an apology, and I ‘ave since y’left. before tha’, actually. I was an ass, and I know tha’ now. you had every right to leave, and you have every right to hate me—”

you gave a mirthless, hollow laugh and crossed your arms over your chest. you were putting up your walls, protecting yourself.

“you put me in therapy, did you know that? years of it. broke me down and crushed me into tiny pieces. made me think I was the problem, that I deserved to be treated that way. ruined my trust and my confidence.”

your tone was bitter. your nails dug into the skin of your arms.

“you were never the problem,” he says, his words firm. he stand then, hands hanging loosely at his sides. “I was. I know tha’ now. I pulled away when I should’ve communicated, or hell— broke things off sooner.”

“so that’s why you’re here then? to tell me you wished you would’ve broken up with me before I broke up with you?”

god, that was not what he meant, and he struggled to find the way to put his thoughts into words.

“no, f’course not, love. I’m tryin’ to say I strung y’along, made things worse, and—”

“and what?” you interrupted.

“an’ im sorry, love. I know it probably doesn’t mean anythin’ anymore. but i am. deeply.”

you didn’t speak for a minute. your eyes studied his face. he knew you were probably taking in the obvious signs of age, of battles he came back from when you were no longer there.

“you going on a suicide mission? is that why you’re here? making amends before you die so you can face the afterlife with a clear conscience?”

he shook his head, taking a small step forward. “no. I— I was discharged. a bit ago, actually.”

“congrats,” you deadpanned.

“tha’s not tha’ point,” he sighed. “they made me go to therapy for a while. unpack all tha’ shit they put me through. and the shrink brought up you once, and it got me thinkin’—”

“so you’re here because your shrink told you to say sorry?”

“bloody hell, love, let me finish,” exasperation was clear in his tone, but he tried to reel it in. he reminded himself that you didn’t owe him shit. you could kick him out right now. he was here because of your allowance, and the second you stopped tolerating him, he’d be back on the porch.

you raised your eyebrows but kept your mouth clamped shut.

“I was an ass when I was with you, and tha’s on me, not you. I was dealin’ with my own shit, and havin’ you celebrate me and boastin’ about my bravery and shit— it didn’t— I couldn’t stand it. you don’t understand, love, and you never will— and tha’s not your fault. s’mine, and I’m still comin’ to terms with all tha’ shit. and I should’ve communicated tha’ with you instead of pullin’ away.”

silence filled the air between the two of you. he could hear the tick of a clock nearby. two ticks. three ticks. four. five.

“what do you want from me, then?” you spoke, and your voice was soft. he could hear the tremble in it— that old you slipping back in, and god he wanted to hold you.

he remembered loving you. he still knew what that felt like, even if was so long ago. and that love was creeping back in, that need to protect you coming back like a tidal wave.

“nothin’.” he said.

“nothing.” you repeated. he nodded.

the timer on your phone went off. five minutes, on the dot.

you clicked it off and looked at him. he was already moving towards the door.

“wait—” you called out to him, and as he turned back to face you, he could tell you hadn’t meant to. it had slipped out subconsciously, and he could see you fighting yourself on what your next words would be.

“I— I don’t forgive you,” you told him. “I don’t know if I ever will. but I— you don’t deserve to be alone. not after all you’ve done.”

he looked at you, the fingers of his hands twitching as he waited for you to speak again.

you took a deep breath and turned your attention to your feet. “I’m here. if you need someone to talk to about whatever. um— I—”

“it’s alrigh’, love. y’dont have to say anythin’ you don’t mean.”

you shook your head. “I do mean it. I admired you when we were together, y’know? you were everything to me— and that’s not something that ever fully goes away. I kinda hate you for everything you did,” you gave a small laugh. “but I don’t want you to suffer, okay? maybe we can— can get coffee or something next week. yeah?”

your eyes were glassy. he resisted the urge to reach for you. he was a protector, it was in his nature. he’d been too wound up in himself back then to realize that the trait he’d showcased on the battlefield should’ve applied to his home life, too. applied to his relationship. to you.

“yeah.” he nodded, his voice soft. he gave you a small smile. “tha’ would be nice.”

you nodded. he looked at you for a moment longer, taking in everything that had changed. but there was still the hint of that naive, youthful you, and that made him smile a little wider.

he turned and walked out the door.

————

author’s note:

muahahahaha ambiguous ending. do they get back together?? no?? do they ever get coffee?? it’s up to you!

this is ending one, keep a look out for ending 2 :)

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Nineteen

TW - I cannot stress this enough; Eddie's junk is not of this world

“You want hot chocolate?”

“Hot cho-co-late,” Eddie repeats carefully.

“I’m having one,” and since it’s Christmas, Steve gets out a small pot to make it properly on the stove top.

Steve’s stirring the slowly heating milk when he hears back back door open, and turns to see Eddie looking out, “Stee. Snowing.”

“Is it?” Steve comes out to look, “oh yeah. That’s nice right?”

“Pretty,” Eddie says, sticking his hand out and letting one of the big fat flakes settle on his fingers. Steve has a vivid memory of the last time they were in this doorway, watching the snow together, and just how different things are right now hits him all over again. Eddie sniffs the snowflake before shoving it in his mouth, “cold water.”

“You got it baby, come on, lets have hot chocolates and watch the snow.”

When Steve tells Eddie he can’t wear his hat to bed, Eddie pouts, but he does arrange it carefully on the desk, next to Steve’s flower crown. Steve has to blink back more stupid tears at the sight, and forces himself to take a deep breath and get into bed.

“Eybrows,” Eddie says, tracing them carefully with the point of his claw, “nose,” and then he veers off a little bit, “one mole. Two mole. Three mole.” Steve shivers where Eddie’s claw drags over his throat and then back up, shifting a little in bed, “mouth.”

“What are you doing baby?”

“Gro-seree list. All the things Eddidie likes.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve mutters to himself, “how the hell are you so smooth?” He can feel himself blushing a little, which is just ridiculous.

“Not like,” Eddie rubs a knuckle through Steve’s scraggly stubble. He really does need to shave that off; he’s not drowning in a pit of despair any more, there’s no real excuse for the sad facial hair.

“No?”

Eddie shakes his head, rubbing fingertips across the smooth apple of Steve’s cheek, “good,” and then into the stubble, “bad.”

“This is smooth,” Steve tells Eddie, running his fingertips along Eddie’s arm, “this is rough,” he rubs at the stubble on Eddie’s head to demonstrate.

“Rough bad.”

“Oh. Okay. I’ll get rid of it in the morning, okay?”

“Tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Breakfast morning lunch afternoon dinner night bed.”

Steve has to cogitate on that for a second, “yeah, yeah that’s right. Morning is after breakfast and before lunch. Afternoon is after lunch but before dinner.”

Eddie hums, settling down next to Steve in bed, his head resting on Steve’s shoulder, “before Hawkins Indiana, Eddidie in The Upside down.”

“That’s right baby, you got it.”

“After Monday Tuesday.”

“Yup, that’s right,” Steve yawns, “you have a good Christmas?”

“Many good. Christmas Tomorrow?”

Steve chuckles, “Christmas isn’t for a whole year. You remember what a year is?”

“January February March April...”

When Steve wakes up, it’s to the sight of Eddie’s feet right in the air. He’s lying on his back next to Steve, legs held straight up. He’s curling his toes. Sometimes all of them, sometimes just the big ones. His sleep pants have fallen down past his knees, and Steve lies there a while, just watching.

Eddie’s speaking, and Steve thinks it may have woken him despite Eddie’s obvious attempts to be very very quiet; he’s currently counting to ten. And then he says the days of the week, the months, the alphabet. He spells his name. He waves his feet around a little, and then bends his knobbly knees in turn, making circles like he’s riding an imaginary bicycle. He’s singing something to himself. ABBA, Steve finally makes out, it’s a bit mangled, ‘soopa troopa,’ the way Eddie sings it. Just the one line, over and over, ‘light’s are gonna’ blind me, shining like the sun,’ Eddie must have picked it up off the TV or the radio.

Steve must shift, or make a sound, and he gives himself away eventually, Eddie realizing he’s awake, “Stee. Morning. Breakfast food?”

“Morning baby.”

“Stee?”

“Yeah?”

“Eddidie baby, then Stee..?”

“Oh. You want a- hmmm.” Steve thinks, “how about sweetheart?”

Eddie looks terribly affronted, “Stee not food.”

Steve lifts his own leg out from under the covers, wriggling three toes at Eddie, “kind of am.”

Eddie actually makes a noise, so shocked a little puff of air escapes him as he splutters, “no!”

Steve can’t help his laughter, “too soon?”

“All tomorrows too soon!”

“Okay, okay. I won’t joke about it.” Steve thinks again, but most things he comes up with are kind of food adjacent. Joyce has kind of cornered the market on ‘honey.’ “How about love?”

“I love you.”

“I know baby, I love you too. But that’s what you could call me. Love.”

“Stee love.”

They brush their teeth together, elbow to elbow, “we really should shower.” They haven’t washed up since Christmas eve, when Steve dragged Eddie out of the pool. Steve inspects the tub; it’s streaked with disgusting gritty filth on the bottom, and the dirty blanket and clothes are still shoved into the corner of the bathroom where Steve left them.

They might be salvageable on a long enough wash, but Steve wants to get a trash bag rather than put them in his basket, they are really gross. He also hasn’t really done any meaningful amount of cleaning or tidying since the night Eddie bit his toes off...which between the injury and the moping, he felt he had a valid excuse to ignore the state of the house.

Not really now though, “I tell you what, lets have breakfast, and then do a little cleaning and some laundry, and then we shower, sound good?”

“Breakfast good.”

“Okay, I’ll just deal with this a minute,” and Eddie sits on the lid of the toilet, watching avidly as Steve shaves.

“Okay, so this goes in here,” Steve loads the washer, leaving the trash sack of really gross stuff for a separate wash later, “and then we measure the detergent like this.”

“Eddidie can?”

“Sure baby,” Steve tips the power back into the box, giving the scoop to Eddie so he can do it. Eddie carefully pours where Steve points. “Now, this is clothes, so we press this,” he points to the dial, and then the button, “so that gets rid of the dirt, and our clothes will be nice and clean.”

Eddie does it, and then grins big when the machine starts up, “done.”

“Good job, okay, so we give it a while, then we come back and set it drying, okay?”

“Okay.” Eddie waves at the machine, “bye bye dirt.”

“Help?”

“That’s real nice baby yeah, like this,” and Steve demonstrates as he moves along the book cases, around the TV, carefully dusting his mothers ornaments and picture frames, “you got it?”

“Got it.”

Steve leaves him to it, and goes and cleans the kitchen. Jon and Hopper did a great job yesterday, and Steve’s really grateful considering the amount of people who ate here, but there’s still an amount of post Christmas carnage to clear up. He takes the trash bag out since it’s filled with wrapping paper, then comes back and starts emptying the drying rack, getting the kitchen clean.

When he goes back into the lounge, Eddie’s done dusting, and he’s carefully arranging all his new things; he puts his new VHS next to the TV, ready for later.

“You want to vacuum?” Steve asks him.

“Vacuum?”

Steve retrieves it from the utility, plugging it in for Eddie and showing him how it works. “Dry?” Eddie shouts over the noise.

“No,” Steve calls back, immediately understanding the link between the hoover and the hairdryer, “clean!”

Eddie takes the hoover, and once Steve shows him how to move the plug from socket to socket, he does the whole downstairs of the house. After, they sit on the couch for a bit, Eddie’s new legs a little shaky with exertion, “you want to try a coffee?”

“Try a coffee. Want. Please.”

“Okay,” Steve makes them both a mug of coffee, making Eddie’s a little sweeter and milkier then his own, and Eddie drinks the whole thing happily. Steve figures if a beer doesn’t hurt, then a little coffee won’t either.

It turns out twenty minutes later that a bit of coffee can have side effects; they find themselves dealing with Eddie’s first poop.

“Cross the bridge,” Eddie had declared hilariously, after producing what was possibly the most heinous fart Steve had ever heard. Steve scrubs the tub while Eddie sits on the toilet, staying present but trying to give Eddie the illusion of privacy.

“Pee more bad then poop,” Eddie tells him.

“Well, at least this one doesn’t hurt, huh baby?”

“Not hurt. No ow.”

“Pee doesn’t hurt now though, does it? Just that first one?” Steve checks.

“No. No ow pee. Called first?”

“Good. That’s good.” Steve gets the shower head down to rinse away the last of the cleaning product, leaving a shiny white tub behind, “uhm...first is. One. That comes first. Monday comes first, January.”

Eddie hums, frowning like he does when he hasn’t quite grasped it yet. To be fair, Steve knows he can’t always give the best explanation for these things. “Not ow,” Eddie tells him, back onto safer ground.

“So if its not ow, we say it doesn’t hurt.”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie parrots back, “no ow. It doesn’t hurt. Okay.”

“That’s right baby.”

Eddie awkwardly wipes and then flushes while Steve gets the water hot for his shower, he waves at the toilet, and says, “bye bye poop,” Steve covering his face with his hand to try and muffle his snort of laughter. Eddie strips off, putting all his things in the hamper, “Stee love in tub?”

“You go first.”

Eddie frowns, “no, together.”

“I…” and Steve can’t, actually, think of a real reason why not, so he gets undressed too.

Steve shampoos and then conditions his hair while Eddie stands under the water, doing little swaps back and forth when Steve needs to rinse. Eddie’s doing a half hearted job, he keeps getting distracted by the feel of the splashing water, watching fascinated as it drips from his fingers, so Steve eventually intervenes. Steve carefully scrubbing Eddie down with the wash cloth; he’s so thin, Steve can almost make out his thigh-bones. His knees, ankles and elbows protrude and Steve could fit his fingers between Eddie’s ribs.

“You hungry? I think there’s left over cobbler in the fridge.”

Eddie nods, “cobbler. Sorry canned filling. Idge cold. Make hot?”

“Yeah I can warm it up for you.”

Once Steve’s done, Eddie limpets himself to Steve. The stubble on his head is starting to turn dark, like Eddie has a five o’clock shadow on his head, and it’s rough on Steve’s shoulder, prickling him. Steve doesn’t mind though. Steve rubs his back, following the knobs of his spine.

“We should get out,” Steve says absently.

“Maybe,” Eddie replies, making Steve snort a laugh, kissing the top of Eddie’s prickly head.

Eddie responds by leaning up to kiss Steve properly, slow and soft, “first?” He asks after.

“First what baby?”

“First kiss today?”

Steve thinks about it, “yeah. Yeap you’re right. First kiss of the day, right there.”

Eddie grins, “first kiss of the day tomorrow?”

“We can do that.”

Eddie suddenly lights up, “license first! Eddidie car after!”

“That’s it baby, exactly right,” Steve tells him, Eddie clearly finally grasping the concept.

“Called before sleep kiss?”

“That would be last. Last kiss of the day.”

“December last? Sunday?”

“Yeah, yeah baby, you got it.”

Eddie nods like there was never any doubt, leaning in to kiss Steve again. Still slow and sweet, a soft touch of lips, Eddie’s arms wrapped around Steve’s middle, holding them close. It takes a minute to register the movement, something pressing against the crease of Steve’s thigh. He leans back a little to look down.

The top of Eddie’s slit has parted; the opening wide enough to permit the...Steve doesn’t even know. It’s worming against Steve’s skin, the flesh the same color as Eddie at the base, but darkening to near black at the rounded head.

It moves freely, probably roughly the same thickness as Steve’s own cock when he’s hard. Steve watches as it moves...like it’s looking for something. It moves like a snake. Like an octopus tentacle. Nudging and casting about across the skin of Steve’s hip; when it wriggles back the other way, finding Steve’s pubic hair, it nuzzles in against it.

“Eddie,” Steve swallows thickly, stunned into a frozen state of fascination, he's pretty sure he hasn't blinked in a minute, his heart thudding loud in his ears, “what-I mean. What is that?”

“Eddidie?” Eddie says, gently reaching between them to touch Steve’s own soft cock.

“Jesus Christ,” Steve breathes.

Eddie’s hand slides across, touching...himself? Steve guesses?...with his fingers. The...thing seems to wake up again, tangling itself with Eddie’s fingers easily. It’s very...twisty. And bendy. The thing looks like it has a, a kind of grip on Eddie’s fingers, almost.

And then the end starts to open, six petals that slowly start to peel apart, and Steve panics, jerking away, pushing Eddie’s hips away with both hands and holding him there at arms length.

Eddie’s...dick? Seems to startle, zipping back inside him like it was never there. “Holy shit. Holy shit,” Steve breathes, drawing in only slightly panicked breaths. He can feel his heart banging away in his chest, “pants.” He croaks out, desperately, “we should both put on pants.”

Part Twenty One

[perpetuallyburntout]

S4!Five Hargreeves x Reader

Strawberry Blonde - Mitski

‼️SPOILER WARNING FOR SEASON FOUR OF UMBRELLA ACADEMY BELOW THE CUT‼️

Okay so I know I wasn’t the only person absolutely crushed by season four of Umbrella Academy, but in the middle of grieving over it, I had the best/worst idea. Technically a fanfic idea, but I don’t know if I have the commitment to write the whole thing, so if someone else would like to, by all means :)

The events of season four start six years after the end of season three. Six years of (mostly) peace. Let’s just say Five met someone in that time (for the sake of making sense, I’ll refer to them as Lover). Met someone he found himself falling for. And they fell for him, too. And it was perfect. And for the first time in a painfully long time, Five was happy. Content. He had his suspicions about how long this peace would last, but… for now, things were good. More than good, they were wonderful. He’d met the love of his life.

And then the events of season four begin to happen. And Lover is there with the group the whole time. At this point, they’re family, too. They want to help, and Five wants them to stay close to him.

Until he and Lila decide to go on their own on the subway, leaving Lover with the others. And in the seven years Five and Lila are stuck together, the same thing happens. And when they finally return, Lover knows something is off. And when the truth comes out, their whole world comes crashing down.

Diego grows angry. Lover just grows somber. It’s even worse, because when they look at Five again, his expression is different. The aching love that used to shine in his eyes whenever he looked at them… it’s dulled to something faint. Still there, deep down, but… unsure. As if he’s questioning himself. Questioning what he should do now. Who he’d pick if given the choice.

Of course, he’s not given the choice. Not even the choice to take Lover far away and talk to them and really explain and try to do something. No, no… the world’s ending. For the final time. And he knows how to make sure it never comes to an end ever again.

Lover’s there for the entire conversation. Every bit of grief and anger they’d felt towards Five suddenly melts away, replaced by desperation. They’d let the world end for the rest of eternity if… if it meant maybe things could be different. If it meant maybe he’d love them, and maybe he’d never love anyone else besides them.

They’re eventually forced to leave with Lila’s family and get on the subway. And while everyone else is confused and emotional, they’re curled on the ground, gasping and sobbing, knowing what this means.

And the Hargreeves stop the world from ending. And all the timelines reset. And everyone else in the world gets their happy ending.

And Lover thinks they’re happy. They do. But they never fall in love again. For some reason, every time they think they find someone, an aching pain in their chest makes them hesitate. An unfamiliar voice calling their name makes them pause. A flash of something, perhaps a memory, too fast to register but not fast enough to ignore the heart wrenching pain of, makes them withdraw. It’s almost as if…

They’re waiting for someone that never existed.

°。°。°。°。°。°。

So! When I had this idea, I was listening to Strawberry Blonde by Mitski, and here’s how the lyrics played out in my head:

I love everybody because I love you

When you stood up, walked away, barefoot

And the grass where you lay left a bed in your shape

I looked over it and I ached

(12:00 PM. August 8th, 2024. Lover’s enjoying their day in the park, sitting in the grass, eyes shut against the light breeze and warm sun. They turn to their side, almost as if to tell someone about how lovely the weather is. But no one’s there. A weird pain begins to ache in their heart.)

I love everybody because I love you

I don't need the city, and I don't need proof

All I need, darling, is a life in your shape

I picture it, soft and I ache

(Others—perhaps friends or family—come over and greet Lover, noticing their confused and distant expression, and ask what’s wrong. Nothing, they say, though they can’t escape the deep longing in their chest for… something that was never there.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

(Flashback timeeee- or… alternate timeline time? Flashback to a time in an alternate timeline, there we go.)

Reach out the car window tryna hold the wind

You tell me you love her, I give you a grin

Oh, all I ever wanted was a life in your shape

So I follow the white lines, follow the white lines

Keep my eyes on the road as I ache

(Shows Five and Lover together, in love, making memories together. Happy.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(Events of season four began to play out, but ofc with Lover being part of the story.)

Look at you, strawberry blond

Fields rolling on

I love it when you call my name

Can you hear the bumblebees swarm?

Watching your arm

I love it when you look my way

(The climax of the story. Flashes of the last two episodes. Five and Lila returning, the explanation, the heartbreak, Five finding out how to save the world for good, Lover meeting his gaze one last time as the subway pulls away forever.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Lover repeating his name to themself, trying to remember for as long as possible, not able to let go.)

Isaiah, Isaiah, Isaiah

(Flashback ends, returns to Lover in the grass on that sunny day, murmuring the name to themself. They’re not quite sure why.)

°。°。°。°。°。°。

I hope you all enjoyed this little idea! I got a little rambly and wrote WAY MORE than I planned on, but it’s an idea I’ve fallen in love with this past hour and I wanted to be able to share it with all of you <3

[rosesareredrosa]

You Don't Know Me Anymore but that Can Change

Theo x fem reader

Summary: Where Theo neglects his relationship with Y/N due to spending too much time with his friends. Realizing his mistake, Theodore promises to change and starts making efforts to reconnect.

Authors note: I have no clue what to write please send in requests

Word Count: 988

The dim light of the Leaky Cauldron flickered as Y/N sat at the corner table, swirling their drink absentmindedly. The place was bustling, but it felt like they were in a world of their own. They glanced at their watch, sighing as the minute hand inched closer to 8:00 PM. Theodore was late. Again.

Just as Y/N was about to give up, the door creaked open and Theodore Nott slipped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/N. A guilty smile tugged at his lips as he hurried over, planting a quick kiss on their cheek before sitting down.

"Hey, sorry I'm late. Blaise needed help with something," he said, running a hand through his dark hair.

Y/N forced a smile. "It's fine, Theo."

Theodore studied the menu briefly, then closed it with a satisfied nod. "I already know what I want. How about you? You like this place, right?"

Y/N bit their lip, looking away. "I used to."

Theodore's brow furrowed. "What do you mean 'used to'?"

Y/N took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. "You don't even know me anymore, Theo. You're always with Blaise or your other friends. We barely spend any time together."

His eyes widened in surprise. "That's not true, Y/N. We're here now, aren't we?"

Y/N shook their head. "One dinner doesn't make up for all the times you've been absent. Do you even know what my favorite drink is? Or how my day went?"

Theodore opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, a look of realization dawning on his face. "I... I guess I haven't been around much, have I?"

"No, you haven't," Y/N replied, their voice tinged with sadness. "You used to be my best friend, Theo. Now I feel like I'm just an afterthought."

He reached across the table, taking Y/N's hand in his. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. I've been so caught up with everything else that I didn't realize how distant I've become."

Y/N's eyes softened, but they didn't pull their hand away. "I miss you, Theo. The real you. Not the one who's always busy with everyone else."

Theodore squeezed their hand gently. "I'll make it up to you. I promise. Let's start over, right here, right now. No more distractions. Just you and me."

Y/N felt a glimmer of hope at his words. "You can change if you mean your word no empty promises."

He nodded earnestly. "I do and I will change, Y/N. Every little detail."

A small smile tugged at Y/N's lips as they finally felt the walls around their heart begin to crumble. "Okay, Theo. Let's start over."

The evening carried on, but this time, it was different. Theodore listened intently as Y/N talked, and for the first time in a long time, they felt truly seen. It wasn't a perfect fix, but it was a start. And that was enough for now.

Days turned into weeks, and Theodore kept his promise. He showed up on time for their dates, texted more often, and made an effort to be present. He started paying attention to the little things, like Y/N’s favorite flowers or the way they liked their coffee.

One Saturday afternoon, Theodore surprised Y/N with a picnic in a secluded part of the Hogwarts grounds. The summer sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow as they settled on a checkered blanket. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead, and the sound of the Black Lake's gentle waves created a soothing backdrop.

Y/N looked around, taking in the thoughtful details. "You remembered I love picnics."

Theodore grinned, a bit of pride shining in his eyes. "Of course. I’ve been paying attention."

They unpacked the basket, laying out sandwiches, fruit, and Y/N’s favorite chocolate-covered strawberries. As they ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. It felt like old times, and Y/N’s heart swelled with a mixture of relief and happiness.

After they finished eating, Theodore leaned back on his elbows, gazing up at the sky. "I've missed this," he admitted. "Just being with you, no distractions."

Y/N looked at him, their heart aching with a mix of emotions. "I’ve missed it too. But I need to know this isn’t just temporary. I need to know you’re really here for me."

Theodore sat up, taking Y/N’s hand in his. His expression was serious, sincere. "I know I’ve messed up, Y/N. I let my friendships and other things get in the way of what’s really important. You. Us. I’m not perfect, and I’ll probably mess up again, but I promise to always try to make it right."

Y/N studied his face, searching for any hint of doubt or insincerity. All they saw was the boy they fell in love with, the one who made them feel special and cherished. "Okay, Theo. I believe you."

His smile was radiant, filled with relief and joy. "Thank you. I won’t let you down."

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a blissful haze, talking about everything and nothing, simply enjoying each other’s company. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Theodore wrapped an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, pulling them close.

"This is just the beginning," he murmured. "I want to make new memories with you, ones we can look back on and smile."

Y/N nestled into his side, feeling a warmth spread through them that had been absent for too long. "I’d like that."

And as the stars began to twinkle overhead, they knew that this time, things would be different. They were both ready to put in the effort, to make their relationship stronger than ever. Together, they would navigate the challenges and celebrate the joys, side by side.

[uchispeach]

Sycamore Tree (Ch. 1)

Pairing: Dark! Rafe Cameron x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of violence, underage drinking and manipulative! Rafe…

This fic will contain dark content: such as dub-con/non-con and violence. You have been warned.

You laid on your back as you flipped the dusty pages of an old magazine. The weather was nice and the sun kept your skin warm, helping you get the slight tan you were wishing for.

Tranquility was in the air, and you were losing yourself in it just as the fence croaked. Your focus was now on the brunette stomping her way into the front yard.

“Hi!” You greeted her effusively, ignorant to the frown on her face. Your lips parted in surprise as you saw her slam the door while dismissing you with a sigh.

Your shock lasted a few seconds, quickly recovering your soft smile. You knew better than to take your sister’s actions by heart. Kiara had always possessed a tough character, while you were the calmest one.

Your father was quick to follow Kie and you soon joined the scene as the shouting coming from the inside of the house became louder.

”I’m sick of you following me around like some bodyguard. I can’t even buy some records in peace!” She shook the tote bag filled with vinyls.

“Sweetheart, we’ve talked about this…you just have to gain our trust again” The look on your mom’s face was sympathetic; her hands reached out for Kiara’s face, a gesture she quickly avoided by turning around and running off to her room.

The slam on the door made you flinch and your head felt heavy as you thought about the different ways you could comfort your sister without making the situation worse.

(…)

”Please, don’t disappear in the middle of the night with JJ” Your brows furrowed while you begged your sister to be in line.

”For the eleventh time, Y/N. I will not run away with him!..not again” The taller girl shouted as she took off her seatbelt.

You tried to swallow your concern as you both stepped out of the car, your eyes focused on the illuminated beach filled with drunk teenagers.

“Wait!” You were too late to shout as you saw the brunette slipping away to meet with her own friends. Great, you thought to yourself. A party was the last thing you wanted to attend but Kiara was pretty insistent on getting you to cover up for her tonight; and you were too considerate to ignore her desperate request.

”Y/N!” A sweet scent filled your senses as you were pulled to the side by a smiley girl. “You didn’t tell me you were coming. I could’ve picked you up!” Jennifer interlocked her arm with yours in an affectionate manner and you slowly relaxed at her presence.

Jenny was a nice girl you met during your last year in high school, and now you both hung out occasionally, mostly during the summer.

“I wasn’t really planning to-“ You were interrupted by a manly voice. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you all night!” A dark haired boy stood in front of you, muscles shining under his unbuttoned shirt.

You were quick to recognize him and the two other boys who followed right behind. The black haired girl stepped away from you, all to get closer to Kelce, who received her with open arms and a cold beer.

You were a bit confused as to why your friend was suddenly so comfortable around the Kook, chatting effusively with him while a slight blush colored her cheeks. A few deadly minutes passed by, until you were again included. “Oh! This is Y/N by the way” Her slim fingers reached out for your cold shoulder, pulling you closer to the little reunion.

“Well…” she continued to talk as she sensed you tensing up “…This is Rafe, you’ve probably seen him ‘round. And Topper, he’s Sarah’s boyfriend” The latter smiled slightly at the mention while the older boy remained stoic.

You looked at the Cameron boy with surprise, noticing how his blue orbs were already glued to you. His gaze was filled with shameless intensity as he confidently scanned you from head to toe.

His poker face slowly turned into a smirk, the kind of smirk someone makes after making a great discovery. “Kiara’s sister, right?” His voice fitted him perfectly, rough and deep with such a nice touch of huskiness.

You could only nod, feeling like a wrong move would lead to fatality. Rafe’s lips only stretched further. “We should get some drinks!” Your friend was quick to interrupt, pushing you all to the crowded side of the beach.

Even with your back turned, you could still feel the burning eyes of a certain blond.

(...)

“Do you want some?” You jumped at the sudden voice, earning a chuckle from the young man. You lifted up your face, big doe eyes staring up at a smiling Rafe. Then, your gaze unsurely traveled to the Mai Tais he held in big hands. “I don’t dri-” “It’s just one, besides, I hate drinking alone” He sounded truthful, leaving you with no choice but to accept the drink from his calloused fingers.

He let out a groan when he sat next to you on the dry log, spreading his legs and consequently causing his thigh to rub yours. The sound of a can opening was followed by a look filled with expectancy. You took the hint and opened your own beverage. “You know…” He took a sip. “...I got a little upset when I stopped seeing you around the house.”

You felt the liquid trying to find its way out of your throat, making you cough. “I kind of enjoyed your little visits.” You could tell he was being honest and that just made you feel ashamed. “Well, things just got…complicated” By complicated you meant unsustainable. Because everytime anyone mentioned Sarah Cameron around your sister it was like all hell had broken loose.

It was strange, Rafe Cameron reaching out to you, just to tell you he missed all those times you would go to his house on playdates. Mostly, because you never really interacted with him, just saw his younger face every now and then behind his bedroom door or on the other side of a huge dining table.

The blond only nodded, seeming to understand what you meant. “You look cute today” Such an inoffensive compliment and he still said it with a predatory smirk. “Pink has always been your color” He took the liberty of stroking the edge of your sundress.

You felt the heat rising up to your cheeks as you looked down on his fingers tugging at the fabric. “Thanks… I like your shirt. That-That cut looks great on you” Rafe threw his head back in laughter, making you want to sink impossibly further into the hard piece of wood.

“That’s what I like about you” He looked at you through the corner of his eyes. ”You’re always so kind…always having the need to give back.” His words were said in a serious tone, no playfulness between the lines.

A strange feeling installed itself on the pit of your stomach, tickling your senses in a nice way. Suddenly, the North Carolina breeze stopped chilling your bones. You felt warm.

You swallowed your awkwardness with a gulp. Doing your best to slow down your heart rate. “And…How have you been doing?” Your eyes were deep in his.

The can touched his lips again, staying there for a long time before answering: “Nothing has really changed, at least not for good” Behind his irises you could see some emptiness, and that made your chest tighten a little.

Fights, fits, constant shouting and scolding, you remembered it distantly. The Cameron household was far from perfect and preferences seemed to have been decided since long before you met them, leaving the blond boy in a disfavored place.

“Well…sooner or later, I’m sure you’ll be able to turn things around.” You wore a shy smile on your soft lips. ”So optimistic” Rafe threw back at you with a hint of humor. “Wish others had that same level of faith in me.” A dry laugh left his throat.

Your face looked for his, getting closer in a comforting gesture. “It’s probably hard to feel like you constantly have to prove yourself…” Your tongue spoke faster than your brain. “…to others”

The older boy’s gaze was deeply set on you, the intensity of it making you back away carefully. “I’m-“ His factions were still, almost making him look upset. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know why I said that” You stumbled with your own words. The regret of making bold assumptions clouding your head.

But then he talked, deep and clear for you to hear: “I don’t mind.” A warm limb rubbed against your back, followed by the feeling of his hot breath on your skin.

The Cameron boy had you secured by his side, with one hand lazily going up and down all along your spine and his body heat wrapping around you like a blanket.

His closeness started to make you feel dizzy, totally unsure on what to think about it.

After a few seconds, discomfort started gurgling deep within you as his hefty hand prevented you from putting some distance between the both of you. With no hesitation, his strength pulled you right back by the waist.

“I-” A loud noise made you stand up with a jump. “Did you hear that?” Your brows furrowed in worry as your eyes searched for the disturbance’s cause. Screams were soon to follow, as well as curses and rough words coming from young voices. One of them you were able to recognize.

Pope dragged a pair of sweaty and agitated boys. JJ and John B rooked rough, the latter one even presenting a few bruises and cuts. Kiara was soon to follow, shouting at the trio to move faster.

Your sister was frantically looking around, and almost like an automatic response your legs moved to join her. “Hey, let me drive you.” A solid grip was quick to take you back. Rafe had a decided look on his face. “I can’t, I have to go back with my sister” You politely shook your arm, trying to liberate yourself without seeming rude. But the blond had other plans, keeping you in the same place with an even tighter hold.

“Next time?” You said with a pleading face. Rafe’s eyes, with an unreadable intensity, pierced through yours. He seemed to weigh your words before nodding reluctantly, his fingers loosening their grip but not entirely letting go. “Alright, I’ll see you ‘round,” he said, his tone almost imperceptibly softer. He let go, but his gaze lingered, a mix of frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You pushed away the goosebumps of your last encounter, only to solely focus on getting as fast as you could to the brunette’s side.

“Kiara!” You were out of breath as soon as you reached the parking lot. Pope on the old van’s wheel while JJ struggled to throw John B inside. “Hurry up! You have to get out of here” The younger girl was anxiously leaning against the vehicle’s door. “What-” You were cut short by the sight of a metallic object.

Kie’s boyfriend was quick to hide the gun under the seat. “Come on. Before the police arrive!” Your mouth was wide open, shocked by the nervous display. You were too occupied trying to decipher what was going on, that you didn’t even feel your sister shaking you hard by the shoulders.

“Y/N, we have to leave. Gimme the keys!” Kiara groaned in exasperation as she saw you struggling to comprehend the words coming out her mouth. “Now!”

A/N: Characters are aged up. Reader is 19 and the Pogues are all over 18.