#unusual table lamps

[plushflower]

Wilma and Betty will buy the lamp will you????

Learn more about fabric sculptures

@ linktr.ee/PlushGemArt

[grugruel]

Your daddy know 'bout this?

(Don't be fooled, there's no daddy kink!)

Pairings: dbf!cowboy!bucky x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: A few days short of your 21st birthday, you decide to celebrate with your friend at the local bar. Unbeknownst to you, a close friend of your dad's is there.

When he sees you with beer in hand and in the lap of another man, things get heated. Somehow, you end up in his shirt, at his house.

Word count: 5.1k

Warnings: pinv sex, passionate sex, forbidden realationship, violence, blood, underaged drinking, slight angst, cum eating, I love yous', mentions of masturation, tension, arguments, slight jealousy and protectiveness, pet names (girl, woman, ma'am, princess, sweetheart)

AN: not yet proofread, might be rough around the edges! Enjoy girlies🥹🫶

It was his one free night in a long time, and his buds pulled him along for a drink. He had no real objections, for he was in a good mood and it'd get even better once he had a drink in him.

The group of men emerged from the damp, rainy night and dove into the smoke tainted air and usual bustle of the local dive. They ordered their drinks and made their way to the back where the booths were, a jumble of familiar faces greeting them on their way. Until-

Bucky saw a face he ought not to see in a place like this. "Excuse me a moment, fellas. I got somethin' to take care of."

Their group turned to him, confused. "Wha-" and looked in the direction he was already headed. "Well shit, good thing her daddy ain't come with us." The group shared a few nervous glances, then shrugged and chuckled. "Wouldn't want to be one of those boys right now."

-

"Well . . . " a voice chuckled loudly.

She could see the source approaching their table from her peripheral, his form vaguely illuminated by soft lamp light through the gloom. " . . . Aint this a sight?"

She knew that voice, she could hear the telltale grin that shaped it.

Catching onto the change in energy, the giggles and boisterous laughter of their small group died down. Tense glances exchanged between them, all eventually landing on the intruder, all except her own.

Commotion continued sounding around them, their table the only to emit an unusually low amount of noise. "Anyone wanna tell me whats goin' on here?" The voice asked.

Swallowing, she realised she'd been intently staring into a cadleflame. She belived that maybe she'd have a chance at going unnoticed if she sat still enough.

"I asked you a question, doll."

She winced. That was his nickname for her. Fuck. She tore her gaze from the candle, snapping it to her friend across the table and gave her a sidelong glance that meant 'trouble' to which her friend nodded in agreement.

The low light that made the place cosy just moments before now only existed to muddle her thoughts. But, it could work in her favour. She carefully pushed her drink behind her elbow, hoping it wasn't too late to hide, and her friend followed her lead.

She turned toward the man, a cheap grin plaster on her face. "Hey . . . Buck," she spoke slowly, as if it'd somehow make him more agreeable.

"Hey there, princess," he grinned. Hat on his head. "Wanna explain this to me?" Pointing lazily to their gathering.

She shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. Because admitting your wrong would confirm it's wrong. "Nothin special, we were just leavin', in fact."

A scoff blew past her ear. "The hell we are." The lap she sat on stiffened beneath her, tapping his feet–once, twice–in a show of impatience, and rocking her body in the process. The man then whispered in her ear. "Who is this guy anyway?"

She inclined her head, nervous eyes avoiding the big cowboy that stood imposing at the end of their table, and murmured a quiet reply over her shoulder. "No one. . . in particular." A lie, of course. "Let's just go."

The cowboy chuckled. "You're not leavin' with him, you're leavin' with me." That drawl could make the most steeled stumaches jittery with butterflies. Her friend must've felt it too by they way she squirmed in her seat.

She had to screw her eyes shut in a moment of contemplation. Why'd he have to be here tonight? Why'd they have to go to a bar he frequented?

She looked back at her friend with panic in her eyes. Boy, were they in for it. She could think of nothing else then to simply ask nicely, hoping it'd appeal. "Please, just go."

He smirked, putting a hand on his hips and showing a stern but playful disposition. "Your daddy know 'bout this?" He tipped his hat in their direction.

She pinned him with her eyes, narrowing them with independent annoyance. "Im my own woman, B-"

'What's it to you?' The guy beneath cut her off.

Bucky switched his attention to the guy, and she could feel him shrink a little under Bucky's gaze. "Hell, no need for that tone! I was just sittin' with my buds over there." He pointed to the group of men Buck came with, no doubt to put some pressure on the poor guy. From the looks of it, they'd been listening in on our conversation, and now waved to her, idly laughing at the situation, ready to jump in at any moment.

She shyly waved back, a tight smile on her lips.

"See, I just saw your little group havin' a grand ol' time over here and wanted to join you," Bucky laughed. "And when I noticed that fine woman in your lap, I thought I'd have a chat with her." He disguised it well, but she could hear the anger beneath his humoured exterior.

"You two know each other?" The guy asked, I'll at ease.

"Well enough." Bucky took a moment to look her over, a scan for any harm. But his eyes stuck on the short skirt and thin shirt. If possible, he looked even more bothered. "Wouldn't you say, sweetheart?" He glanced at her, and she could see the danger that lurked in his eyes. It began to dawn on her more and more how knee deep in trouble she was.

She cleared her throat, a nervous blush creeping up her cheeks. "Mhm," she hummed. It felt like he could see through her.

The guy's hand slunk to the bare skin of her thigh, attempting to mark his territory when seamingly he'd decided his dislike of the situation. "Huh, what's with the hat anyway, you some kind of sheriff?" He asked. But cut Bucky off as he was about to answer. "Either way," he waved his hand dismissively. "She's fine where she is. She can make her own decisions." And just like that, he'd successfully stolen the point she'd been trying to make.

She shook her head. Stupid, stupid boy.

Bucky's face hardened, any sign of humour gone from him. "I assure you, I dont need a sheriff's badge to take her home, It's within my right." He braced his hand against the table, leaning closer to them.

Her uterus roiled at that. 'take her home'

"Now, get that hand off of her, boy." He snarled, annoyance and authority resounding in his voice, promising a solution to the mans cocky demeanor. "She ain't yours to touch."

"Why?" The guy asked. "She yours?" His hand slid higher, squeezing her thigh, challenging the much broader man.

She exhaled, releasing a frustrated hum in early defeat, he'd doomed them both.

The cowboys jaw tensed. Silently, but undoubtedly steaming, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and pushed them above his elbows. The veins on his forearms pop from strain, knuckles turning white from his fists clenching. "Fella. . ." He began, calming his composure, then pointed two loose fingers at the girl in the mans lap. "Had she been mine, you'd be on the floor already. Now, that girl, ain't of drinkin' age, neither is she to be touched by a slimy bastard like yourself."

Fuck, so he did see the drink. She shook her head again, warning him. "Bucky. . ." A very bad attempt at dissuading him from doing whatever he was about to do. She could almosy feel the guy beneath her sink into the booth they were sitting in. Perhaps he had some sense after all.

Her friend grabbed her arm, loosely yanking on it as her anxious eyes flickered between the men in conflict. She herself sitting in the lap of the guy's friend, who was preparing to step in if necessary. "We should go before this gets ugly," her friend whispered.

"Respectfully, ma'am, she ain't going nowhere without me." The cowboy opposed, directing his attention to her friend.

No, no, no no. . . Dread filled her, he'd drive her straight home to her parents.

Bucky's eyes fell back on the guy, now shrunken and small under his gaze. "So. . . Stand up, 'n leave, boy," he spoke with the authority of a sheriff but stood with the confidence of an outlaw. "There's no need for altercations, I was enjoyin' my night. N' I don't wish that to change-"

"I'll call on the bouncer," the guy shot out, his face probably as pale as his overly white and fragile shirt, pointing to a man behind the cowboy. Her eyes followed the steps down from the seating area, and through the dimly lit dive where a big man stood posted by the door. The guy beneath her then glanced at his friend across from them, both extending curt nods to one another.

She wanted to wretch, he was acting a coward and standing up to Bucky with the threat of enlisting two other men to his side. She sighed loudly, making a point for him to hear as she eyed her friend. "Well, I sure know how to pick em'." And her friend, inspite of the commotion they found themselves in, covered her mouth in snicker.

Bucky narrowed his eyes in a second of silent fury, then answered with a laugh, not missing a beat. "You mean that bouncer?" He asked and turned around, calling a greeting to the bouncer, who in turn tipped his hat with a smile. The type of gesture that indicated a longstanding friendship. "We're well aquainted," Bucky grinned. "But im sure he'd love to sort this situation out."

If they had any sense at all, the two men would leave with what little dignity they had left and realise that they were already outnumbered inspite of being 2 to 2.

"Leave, girls," the guy easily dismissed them.

She gave him a pointed look, flashed her eyebrows, and jerked her head to the side in a 'you had it coming' motion, and then grabbed her friend's hand.

"Asshole," she sighed and steered them out of the booth, taking the cider in her other hand. Silly as she was, she thought she could simply leave, perhaps just slip by Bucky. But no, his strong hand grabbed her bicep as she passed by, and set his blues deep into her own. "Wait by the truck, I'll drive ya' home." He said, looking between the two girls.

"Fine . . . " She sighed.

"N' dont even think of running, cause I'll catch ya'," he warned, and she rolled her eyes inspite of the burning that settled in her core.

She tried to yank herself free, but he didn't let go. "What? You wanna hear a 'yes sir'?" She dared the words, teasing, as nervousity built in her gut.

His eyes searched hers, a slow grin spreading over his lips as he leaned closer, bending down to whisper in hear ear. "Dont get cocky with me, girl." And his hand began sliding downward, making her shiver, leaving goosebumps in the wake of his touch.

She swallowed, that tone, the hat? God. Her uterus purred, and in a sudden surge on confidence, she answered. "No, sir."

He grabbed the glass bottle from her hand and grinned, taking a sip. "Good, girl. Now go." And pointed to the door.

Would it be wrong to say she started salivating? His words, together with his lips making contact with the same surface she had? There was something about it, something that made her . . . Pulse.

Bucky whistled and his friend–the bouncer–came bounding up the steps, him along with the group of dad's and bucky's friends only a few steps behind.

The bouncer tipped his hat to her and her friend in passing, a smirk on his lips. Nice to know there was still some gentlemen in the world.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. He was quite handsome too.

"Dont even think 'bout it," Bucky warned.

She rolled her eyes, and then they were finally on their way out, meeting Bucky's group of friends on the way, all nodding and greeting her. "Tell your daddy we missed him tonight." One said, and they all chuckled.

The girls hurried off, giggling. But anxiety lingered in the depths of her chest. Those men were rogue witnesses in all of this.

As she held the door open, voices raised behind them. She could see the crowd turning to look in Buckys direction, anf she herself followed their gazes. And found them just in time to see Bucky's knuckles collide with the jaw of the guy she'd spent her night on, sending him sprawling.

-

Plunging into the deep night, the cold swept over them. "He's hot, ain't he?"

She didn't want to answer, or simply didn't want to admit it and just gave her friend a look of understanding.

"God, I was ready to pounce on him the second he called me ma'am."

The girl understood that too.

-

After about ten minutes wait, Bucky emerged from the bar. Unscathed, apart form bloody knuckles and dark cloud around his head. Before even saying a thing, he'd already removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. "I only got one of them. Apologies, ma'am," he told her friend and opened the truck door for them both. "The truck'll warm you up."

"Thats ok, thank you," her friend answered, and the girls shared a knowing look. Their thoughts connecting in fiendish collectivity.

"Alright, get in. We'd better get goin'."

-

The ride was relatively quiet. We knew better than to anger him further. Anxiety was growing within her, though, she didnt wanna know what would happen when her friend was let off.

"Text me ok? I'll se ya' later." Her friend said, eyeing Bucky. She leaned her head through the open window of the truck. "But- let me know how that goes," she whispered. "And good luck." She raised her eyebrows with a smirk on her lips.

The girl rolled her yes. "Sure will." And with one last wave, they were off.

-

When there were only the two of them, they could say whatever they wanted with confidence. But so far, there'd only been a few sighs and breaths of shared irritation. Neither of them were particularly pleased with the situation.

But she wanted to be the first to speak. "I'll be 21 in a few days, Buck."

"Doesn't mean you have good judgement."

She bristled. "I'm not a little girl anymore!"

" 'Course not, I can tell by the way you dress. That what a grown woman look like to you?" He nodded to her body, barely covered apart from his thick jacket over her torso.

She pulled it closer around herself. "Like what exactly? What do I look like to you? A slut, a hooker?" Her face stung from embaressment. She felt like a child again, being berated for something she wasn't able to puzzle together by herself.

He clicked his tongue, jerking his head to the side. His patience was running thin. "Dont twist my words, doll. I'm callin you careless."

"That dont matter comin' from you, you're not my daddy." She knew the comment would get a rise out of him, because she knew he'd ment no ill intent, and she knew he cared for her. But she was mad, and so was he.

"No, n' you should thank fucking god he wasn't there to bust you. I was the better option, I can promise you that."

She exhaled a frustrated breath, turning her attention toward the windshield. Watching droplets of water paving their way over the condensation covered glass. "You weren't the only one to bust me, though, were you?" She spoke lowly, feeling like a coward for even asking. "The boys gonna say something?"

He gripped the steering wheel harder, his roughed up knuckles tearing. "I told em' I'd take care of it." It must've stung, but he took no notice. Other things pestered his mind.

Worry mixed in with all other emotions as her gaze drifted to his hands, and her mind immidetly moved into recovery mode. "So what's that mean, you gonna tattle on me now?"

He looked over at her, brows furrowed right beneath the rim of his hat. He couldnt begin to understand her. "That all you care about?"

"Right now? Well, yeah. I dont want a scolding."

"All grown and still daddy's little girl, worried about his opinions."

"And if I say yes, what then, girl?

"I dunno, m' gonna have to convince you not to."

"Like you convinced that guy to buy you beer, huh? What'd you do, flirt with him? Give him a handjob, suck him off? What did I miss before catching you?"

Her mouth hung open in disbelief. "You fucking asshole!" She shook from anger, she never expected words like that to be thrown at her. Especially not by him. But she'd get him back, there was no reason behind her actions now. "Maybe I would've, I even bet it would've worked if I'd asked you. Right? You would've just loved having your friends pretty daughter gettin' you off, huh!" She half shouted the last sentence, her chest heaving with effort and fury.

"That's enough." His tone was unforgiving, shooting a sense of reality back into her.

"I'll shut up if you answer the god damned question Buck, would it have worked?"

But Bucky didn't answer, his jaw clenched and unclenched, biting back his words. If she thought the silence had been bad before? It was deafening now.

After calming down again, her words hit her like a freight train. She always had a friend in Buck, but now she wasn't sure. The words that'd been thrown back and forth had set them off balance, their entire relationship was on unsteady ground. Something had been rewritten in the rules between them.

There'd always been attraction, but that wasn't something they ever spoke of. They'd always been close, good friends even. But now, something had changed. And it made her feel sick. She'd had an ally in him, but now, she wasn't so certain.

After a long whole of shutting her mouth out of stubbornness, the fate of her father finding out was worse, so she broke. "Please don't bring me home, Buck. Dad'll throw a fit." She tried to smile, to soften her voice. But it felt wrong.

After a moments uncertainty on her part, and strained breathing on his, he spoke. "Im not makin' the detour, you can sleep at mine, that was always the plan anyway." He admitted, sounding utterly tired.

And now she felt extremely guilty, eyes studying him as he gripped the steering wheel harder. Her gaze drifted over his body, his face, his hands. Stopping on the roughed up and bloody knuckles. He'd beaten that guy for her. Out of jealousy, or simply because he was protective?

She turned away, her chest feeling hollow and followed the birches and sprucetress as they flashed by the truck. Their colors and textures blending together as they met the dark consistent sky above them.

Bucky's house was dark, he only lit a few tablelamps when they arrived. It was better that way, she recognized herself here, within the gloom and the safety of his home. It was second to her own.

"I'll get your something more comfortable," he said, his eyes avoiding her clothes, her body as a whole and disappeared into his bedroom.

Was it because he thought they didn't fit her, or the opposite? Had he been mad at himself for being attracted to her?

She nodded slowly, calling out to him, "we should do something about that hand of yours."

"It's fine, I'm fine." He said, re-emerging, meeting her eyes. "Here," he handed here a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, most likely too big for her. "I'll take the couch, n' you can take my bed."

She nodded again, and headed into the bathroom.

Buckys t-shirt was longer on her than the skirt she'd worn, so she opted out of the shorts. Luckily findig a roll of gauze in the bathroom cabinet.

She emerged from the bathroom, a pair of panties and the oversized t-shirt the only things on her body. "You want something to-" Bucky paused as she rounded the corner, and suddenly she herself stopped short–caught off guard.

Bucky stared at her, and whatever he'd been about to say was lost the second he looked up. Bucky cleared his throat, and with the weight of a 15 year long friendship on his shoulders, his eyes stayed glued to hers.

Inwardly, she smiled and hoped the lowly lit livingroom couldn't reveal the blush on her cheeks. "Found some gauze," she held the roll up, indirectly asking for permission to bandage him.

He opened his mouth to decline, she could even see his head begin to shake in dismissal.

But she cut in before he had the chance. "Just let me help, you can be mad and still let me help."

His eyes hardened, but hesitantly, he nodded all the same. "Im fine, doll."

She raised her brows with skepticism and made her way toward him, the fabric of buckys shirt doing its best at showcasing her breats.

Bucky clenched his fist in an attempt to control himself, he winced, the wounds on his knuckles re-opening.

"Yeah," she scoffed. "Sure seems fine to me." And placed herself infront of him. From his position on the couch, he had to look up at her. At that, a flicker of heat blazed in her core. Oh, those eyes. His big, pleading eyes, all sad and hurt. Did he want her gone or want her in some other way?

She kneeled, settling between his thighs and grabbed his hand. "You don't got to be so stubborn all the time. . . Just wanna help you." She wrapped his hand carefully, enjoying every second of his corse skin over hers. Once done, he tried flexing his hand, and winced again. He still hurt, that much was clear, but was too proud to admit it. "Want me to kiss it better?" She joked, hoping it would lighten the mood. But he did that thing again, where he said nothing, and instead clenched his jaw, as if holding back a yes. So she took her chance.

Keeping their eyes locked, she brought his wrapped knuckles to her lips, and kissed them through the bandage once, then moving further up to kiss the softer skin of the back of his hand. Again, his eyes were pleading, and he moved the hand to cup her cheek, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb. She took it as encouragement and kissed his palm, his wrist, his forearm. She stood up on her knees, kissing his bicep and reached for his shirt to pull him closer. She cupped his face and brought him inches from her own, nuzzling her nose against his.

Finally, when her lips reached for his, he pulled away. "Stop, stop," he nudged his forehead against hers. "We can't," he moved his lips away, cheek to cheek, he kissed the soft spot in front of her ear. "We can't."

"Cant, or wont?" She asked dully.

Those pleading eyes were back, begging her not to make him answer that question. She nodded absentmindedly, pulled into her thoughts. She stood up and moved away from him, his hand sliding down her arm and locking around her wrist, stopping her. "Dont leave."

"I'm comin' back."

After a few minutes of bustling in the kitchen, she returned to him. Sidling up next to him on the couch, her curled up legs lulling into his lap as she handed him a whiskey glass, then cradled her own. He whispered a thank you, looking into her eyes, and she whispered a you're welcome, looking into his. Then they sat like that for a while, quiet, unmoving. Bucky's hands finding their home on her legs, glas in one hand and her knee in the other. Somehow, this wasn't crossing a line for them, this was their normal, this was something not even her family questioned, this was them.

"Im sorry, doll." he said finally. "I never meant to imply-"

"It's ok, Buck." He opened his mouth to speak again, but she stopped him. "Really, It's fine. I'd rather not dwell on it."

Another moments silence passed between them, it was uncomfortable, but the unsaid lingered in the air like a thick wall between them, and hung over them with the threat of smothering. "We need to talk about us."

"I didn't like the way he was touchin' you," he said, choosing the topic before she had a chance at it. If he had to approach them, he would do it indirectly. "It didn't look like you were enjoyin' it."

Her eyebrows raised, "You would've punched him even if I were enjoying it." She commented sourley.

He squeezed her knee, gently rubbing circles into the skin beside. "He acted like he owned you," He turned his unscathed hand upside down, brushing his knuckles up and down her sensitive skin.

It all went straight to her head, veins throbbed with heat she didn't know she could feel. All brought out by a single touch of his hand.

But she wouldn't let off. "And what do you 'spouse beating him for it is?"

He stayed silent, his hand turned again, this time to grab her soft flesh, squeezing it with purpose. Much like the guy had done, but this felt different. This felt good, real good.

She swallowed, closing her eyes to focus on the words she needed to say. "What made you think you had the right? If not that I already belonged to–" she stopped, and their eyes met in a quick glance.

He let out a frustrated sigh. "I was only protectin' you." He defended, but it didn't quite sound like he believed the words himself. Nor did she. But if he wasn't ready to see it as it was, she wouldn't pressure him.

Instead, she laid her head on his shoulder. "It shouldn't be this hard."

He shook his head, the words seemingly struck a cord within him. For he sat insilence, pondering, a long while. "I would've said no, you know. And it would've killed me." She looked at him strangely, forgetting what he was referring to for a moment. "I would've said yes, if you hadn't felt forced to it, like it was a last resort to keep your secret."

Oh. . . "Had I wanted it, you'd said yes?" She stared unbelieving into the dark space infront of them.

"Nothin' could stand in my way." He slid his hand further up her thigh, fingers exploring the skin just beneath the hem of his/her shirt.

She sat up straight to look at him properly, she couldn't tell if he was serious. "You want me?"

"More than anything," his voice was breathless, barely a whisper. His index and long finger reaching further up, exploring more than he'd ever dared. "Cant even explain how many times I imagined you gettin' me off after you said it. How much I hated the thought, the sight of you with that guy, his hands all on you."

A pang of need shot through her. She put her whiskey down, and braced her hands against his chest. "But why tell me now, whats changed? Whats changed in this last hour?" His fingers rubbed the skin of her hips beneath her panties, sending shivers running over her body, shivers she'd only previously dreamed he'd be the cause of.

"You're right, it shouldn't be this hard. I'm makin' it too hard." His hand slid to her waist, still invisible to him, but no longer untouchable. Magnetically, they were pulled together, faces inching closer and closer to oneanother.

"And what about daddy?" It was becoming hard to focus, she wouldn't stop him for the world. Bow, they were close enough to feel the dampness of their breaths.

His hand continued exploring farthur up, fingertips finally reaching the soft, plush flesh below her breast. "Your daddy ain't here, is he?"

She began shaking her head in disbelief, lips brushing against eachother. "Dont promise something if you can't follow through."

His hand stopped, "I can, please," he begged, waiting for her go-ahead. "I can. . ."

His words vibrated against her skin, electrifying her body. "Fuck," she moaned, he's right there. Right, there, infront of her, for her. "Then do, please do, Buck."

And just like that, both hands were beneath her shirt, pulling her into his lips and squeezing her breasts.

Breathless moans filled the silent air, they tore at eachother greedily. Pulling and pushing eachothers bodies, fighting to get Bucky free of his clothes.

Snaking one arm behind her back, he guided her down onto cushions and placed himself above her. Still clothed by jeans, he rolled his hips against her core, grinding the rough fabric against her barely clothed clit. This, is what she had been craving. The exact static friction, the heat and movement between their bodies producing all the pleasure she needed. She moaned heavily, beacause still, she wanted more. Pulling her legs up and her panties off, she wordlessly signaled for him to do the rest.

With a groan, Bucky dove into her neck, kissing and sucking, all the while he unzipped his jeans and pulled them off together with his boxers. No time was wasted, he lined his member up with her core within a second, prodding and teasing at the opening. "Please, please, please." She sounded desperate, but fuck, she was. And feeling it was worse then sounding it.

"Yes ma'am." He said, and thrusted into her. A gasp escaped them in unisome. With the arm still around her waist, he pulled her into his hips, his body straining as he delved deeper inside her than she thought possible.

"Yes. . ." She whined. "More."

He kissed his way up her throat, their hips freed and collided into eachother with steady, strong thrusts, pushing her deeper into the cushions with every rut. Nothing could compare, he was unparalleled. Bucky, despite what he was already achieving, kissed his way up her neck, unfaltering in his duty.

Her hands found his face, cupping it and bringing him back to her, and their lips met again. "Taste so sweet," he murmured, sinking his tongue into her. The salt of her skin mixing with her saliva. "Want all of you."

She smiled against him. "Harder."

He did as ordered, keeping his pace and adding pressure. "Yeah," he moaned. "Being so good for me, girl." And pulled her deeper onto his member. Her breaths grew rapid and shallow, fingers clawing at his back as she had nowhere to go, all pleasure directed straight into her. "Close, so fucking close," she cried.

"Good," he chuckled breathely against her skin, and that was a she needed. Her back arched in euphoria, and stars stung her eyelids, speckling the darkness. "Good job, sweetheart. Just breathe," he continued thrusting into her, softly, easing her through the orgasm. "Good girl. Well done. . ." He whispered, kissing her jaw. The stars began fading and she regained her senses, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Beautiful, girl." He moaned, still rutting into her, chasing his own high while wiping the tears from her face. Her body began tingling, on the vege of breaking down.

"Dont know how much more I can take, Buck." She kissed his cheek, focusing on the skill of his lips.

"Almost there, almost. . ." he moaned, increasing his pace. The slickness of her core created a sickening sound together with the slapping of their skin. It was heavenly, but she could feel the pressure building within her again.

"Mmmh, m' gonna cum again, please buck, dont stop."

He didn't, he continued, intent on coming together with her. He bit into her lip, causing her to yelp and yield the hold on his face and licked a trail down her chest and breast, then taking it into his mouth. Sucking and slurping in an insane rythm with the slapping. "Yes, yes! Fuck, Bucky." she called out, and Bucky pulled out of her.

Coming only a second after, his seed spilling over her abdomen. "I love you, I love you." He moaned with faltering breaths, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her, kissing every part of skin that he could reach.

Holy shit? "I love you too." She smiled lazily, drunk off of her two consequent orgasms. Laying her hand on her stumache, she felt his sticky substance coat her fingers.

His eyebrows knit together in guilt. "Sorry 'bout that sweetheart, I'll get a towel-"

She grabbed his bicep and shook her head, locking her eyes onto his as she brought the fingers to her lips and licked them off, popping them in her mouth to suck them clean.

Bucky stared, unable to form words.

"Cat got your tongue, cowboy?" She asked, a coy smile on her glistenting lips.

"Fuck," he awed breathlessly. "I just love you." He whispered, lowering himself onto her once again, this time striking his tongue into her core.

-

[writtenbymoonflower]

Heyoo! How are you dove? Can I request more roommate!poly!marauders x shy!reader pleasee! Your fics have a special place in my heart

roommate!marauders is my drug <3 thanks for requesting hunny! fem!reader x roommate!marauders

cw: thunderstorms, poor boundaries with roommates

659 words

You didn’t realize the sheer volume of the downpour outside until the chatter of your roommates in the sitting room couldn’t be discerned over the pounding of raindrops reverberating off your window panes. You weren’t complaining, though. You were cozied under a multitude of soft blankets and fluffy pillows, your reading lamp emanating a soft glow onto the pages of your book, the smell of rain wafting into your room. 

That was until your lights slowly flickered a few times, before shutting off completely, leaving you in pitch black darkness. This was shortly followed by a shrill scream, then a crash, making your drop your novel. You untangled yourself from your covers, setting your book back on the bed, before venturing out. You held your hands in front of you as you stumbled around in the dark. You felt around for your doorknob, swinging the door open. You didn’t make it far before you tumbled into a tall torso and lanky limbs. 

“Shit, dove! Sorry! I didn’t see you there.” Remus blindly reached a hand out in an attempt to steady both of you. 

“It’s okay! I think that only raccoons can see in these conditions.” You attempted to joke. He rewarded you with a small chuckle. 

“Are you okay, though? You didn’t fall or anything?” You could hear the worry laced in his tone. It made your heart weirdly warm to know that he was concerned for you. 

“No, I’m all good.” You reassured. “Are you okay? I heard a crash.” You stepped further into the living area, carefully watching your footing. Remus chuckled again. 

“You wanna tell her what happened, lads?” His tone filled with unusual mirth. You could vaguely make out the forms of the other two boys in the dark. You heard Sirius grumble, though it was James who spoke up, much more timidly than typical.

“Well uh- we didn’t expect for the lights to go out, you know? Pads got a little spooked and screamed.” You could feel Remus shaking beside you with nearly-silent laughter. “And uh- Sirius spooked me, I guess. And then I dropped a plate.” He trailed off. Remus was now laughing loudly at his friends’ expense, but you could tell that there was no malice given or received between the boys, with them also joining in. You weren’t laughing, though. You resisted the urge to flounder over to James and check him for injuries. 

“Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?” 

“No we’re okay, babydoll. It’s in the kitchen, we’ll worry about it later. Come over here, though. You’re gonna trip.” Sirius’ hand circled your arm gently, pulling you towards him and James. You weren’t sure what you were in risk of tripping over, but you let him maneuver you as he liked. You were startled by the sound of sparking, making you jump back into Sirius’ chest. 

“Sorry, lovely. Candles.” James set the soft, flickering light onto the coffee table. Remus appeared right beside you again. 

“You’re all jumpy, dove. Are you sure you’re okay?” Remus cooed as James lit another candle. You jumped again as another hand grazed your back. 

“Y-yeah.” The dark was very unsettling. Purple light flashed through the house, quickly followed by a loud boom! 

“EEK!” You weren’t the one who made the sound, but you were pulled onto the settee, tumbling on top of Sirius’ frame, face landing in his inky curls. 

“Christ, Pads.” James flopped down next to your tangled forms. He pulled you off to settle you between him and the high-strung boy. “You’re gonna kill her before the lease is up.” Another wave of thunder clapped through the house, this time Sirius only flinched. James pulled you closer to him in response. 

“Oi! I can’t help it. You know storms make me flighty.” He argued, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you back against him. “It’s okay though, I’ve got this dolly to keep me safe.”

[byexbyez]

love me more | leon kennedy x f!reader

pairing: re4r!leon kennedy x f!reader

summary:

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

word count: 19k

warnings: 18+ towards the end, angst, yearning, marriage of convenience but there isn't a tangible convenience, strangers to spouses dynamic, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and low self-esteem, also trauma and anxiety, family issues, kinda touch-starved leon if you squint, domestic fluff if you try hard enough, non-linear and vague timeline, mentions of canon typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v smut, brief alternation of POVs, ada wong mention, suicidal thoughts, minor original character, minor character death, spoilers to the hunchback of notre dame, no use of y/n

notes: meant to post this on tumblr after i was done with it but that never happened so here, have it. took me 16 months to post it here lmao. english is not my first language. you have been warned. also beware of a whole lot of mitski and hozier references. enjoy!

-> read on ao3

>> read PART II.

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And I am the idiot with the painted face In the corner, taking up space But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved

Me and my husband We're doing better

—Me and My Husband, Mitski

It’s quiet. It has always been that way from the start. Your husband is late, which is not unusual. You sit in the somber light coming from your living room TV. You don’t like the overhead lights, which explains the abundance of lamps around the living room and bedroom in your home. Your husband found it strange that you never turned on the actual lights but it didn’t take him long to realize that you were right. Any kind of overhead light was annoying to him now. He blamed you for his headaches at work.

No matter how many times you told him that he could turn on the overhead lights he insisted that he did not like them anymore. “I like it like this,” he had said. “You’re right, it’s cozier this way.” His head was on your knee, his eyes were closed. He looked so peaceful. You wanted to brush his hair away from his face and maybe scratch a bit as if he was a cat. But you didn’t, you had no idea what he would react like to such an intimate gesture. You turned your gaze away from his peaceful sleeping face to the TV you had been watching on low volume before he stepped through your home’s front door.

It was a fucking joke, really. Thinking twice, three times about touching the man that you call your husband.

You hear his keys jumble from the door. He didn’t tell you what time he would be home, so you didn’t prepare anything for dinner. It’s late anyways. You consider closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch but it hasn’t been long since he told you he could tell when you were not sleeping. You thought about the number of times you pretended and he could tell. Embarrassing. Now that your secret was out, you had to greet him awkwardly.

He calls your name. “Are you asleep?” His voice very faint.

“No,” you answer while untucking your legs from under your butt. “Hi.”

“Hi.” He places the keys on the keyholder. “No lights?”

You reach to your side and turn on one lamp. “I didn’t realize the sun had set.”

“It’s past eleven.” Now that the lamp was on you could see his worried eyes. His five o’clock shadow prominent. “Did you eat anything?” he asks. You can’t tell if he hopes you did or not.

The moment you see the plastic bag in his hand, you shake your head no. Honestly, you were hungry because it had been hours since you ate a bowl of cereal as dinner.

He steps over your legs instead of pushing the coffee table away to make room for himself and plops next to you on the couch. “Brought Chinese,” he says and places the food bag on your lap instead of the coffee table. “You like their fried dumplings.”

You aren’t surprised that he remembers it. He was nice like that, maybe he thinks this is the least he can do. Soon after the wedding, he realized you did not enjoy cooking. It has never been a problem, he knew his way around the kitchen and knew of really good takeout places.  

“Thank you,” you say softly while leaning on the table to place the noodles and the dumplings. “Leon, did you drink?” you ask when you catch a whiff of him.

“Yeah, I’m a little tipsy.”

That explains his lax attitude. He has his arm around you across the back of the couch, he’s sitting close to you. It’s because he wants to eat, you say to yourself. And he’s a little tipsy.

“Did you have fun?” you ask when you separate your chopsticks.

“I wasn’t with anyone,” he says, watching you separate his chopsticks for him. “I had a drink by myself.”

“Only one?” you chuckle.

“One or two,” He cocks his head to your direction and grabs the chopsticks from your fingers. His fingertips are warm.

Unlike you, his body always runs hot. You remember the comment he made when he held your hand and cupped one cheek, kissing you after you two had said “I do”. His breath was hot on the lower part of your face. You somehow felt him everywhere and nowhere at once. “It’s really hot, why are your hands cold?” he had whispered. It was unusually hot on the day you eloped. Leon had to dab his sweat away so often.

“I’m just nervous,” you had whispered back. The hand that he was not holding was trembling, surely, he could tell.

“No need to be.” That was what he said right before your first kiss. It was more of a short peck because he was a gentleman who didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

It was easier for him to say, he didn’t have anything to be nervous about. He looked really beautiful that day and it didn’t help your nerves one bit. You felt like you were committing a crime while signing your documents that sealed the fact that you were now married to Leon Kennedy. You wonder if he felt the same, knowing this marriage was not a real one.

You didn’t lie to anyone really, so why did it feel like you did? You never told anyone you were in love. You never told anyone this was legit. You just told your sister you were married and that Leon was a good man. She had shrieked over the phone, demanded that you quit joking. The moment she was convinced that you were not, she expected pictures of him. The only picture you had of him was from the day you eloped. He had taken your cold hand and placed it on his arm. His other hand on his stomach so he didn’t look awkward. You had raised your small bouquet of baby’s breath to your torso as well. You did not look as nervous as you thought when the photo came in the mail but Leon looked more handsome than you remembered. You emailed it to your sister.

It didn’t take long for her to respond. How the hell did you bag that man??? Do you have blackmail material against him?

We met at work, you replied shortly.

I thought you worked with dudes that are old as fuck.

We don’t work together. Met through a coworker.

Maybe I should change careers. I mean how hard can it be to train as a government agent???

You looked at the multiple question marks she sent after that. I’m telling your husband.

I showed him the picture and he agrees that he’s hot lol. He also would like to have you guys over.

So you both can ask him what he sees in me?

Hey, I’m only joking. We would really like you guys to come over. I want to meet my brother-in-law.

I’ll tell him but he’s very busy.

Sooo what does he do?

Like I said, he’s an agent. Mostly confidential work.

So you can’t tell me?

I really can’t.

You know what? It’s annoying that you can’t tell me what he does but I can understand. What I can’t understand is you getting married. Out of the blue. Without telling me.

That email left a bitter taste in your mouth. She could tell that it was not real. She knew that you were not easy to love. She knew it was impossible for you to get married. That’s why you stalled her invitation for nearly two years. You hadn’t even asked Leon because you did not know how he would react. He knew you had a sister across the country and that she was older than you but never asked about her for a while. You weren’t offended at his uninterest in your life. He didn’t have any reason to be interested in you.

He did say he was an orphan, that one time.

It all made sense after that, he didn’t like to talk about families. Maybe because he wasn’t used to belong. To belong to a family. Belong to someone. Think about them because he belongs to them and they belong to him.

All things considered, you thought Leon turned out more than okay. Closed off but very kind, gentle, understanding.

He leans forward and helps you split one dumpling into two with his chopsticks. His shoulder bumps yours and stays there because he refuses to let go of the back of the couch behind you. When you pull your sleeve over your fingers, he quickly eats one whole dumpling, leaving you with the smaller one that he helped you split and covers your hand with his.

“You cold?” He looks silly when he stuffs his face full of food.

“No.”

“Your hands are cold.” He doesn’t’ say like always but it’s there in his voice.

He doesn’t mind touching you when he’s in a good mood, mostly when he’s a little intoxicated like this. Usually, he’s not a touchy person. You’re glad he’s not, it reminds you that you definitely like him more than he likes you. He needs the little nudge of alcohol to let go of his inhibitions. He didn’t touch you until you gave him the green light on your birthday. He didn’t know what to get you as a gift so he got you yellow roses and the blandest birthday card known to man.

Happy Birthday, from Leon.

“It isn’t anything special, I know.” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m not good at this stuff.”

But it was special, it was from him; with his emotionally constipated, probably unintended curt message. You knew deep down he had a big heart. He cared enough to stop on his way to get you these. You didn’t think much, because there were times when you didn’t need to think about this, you just reached and hugged him around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. “They smell really nice. We need to get a vase for them.”

He finally put his arms around you and you felt the stiffness of his shoulders on top of yours. It was six months into your married life.

Yellow roses. He saw you as a friend. You were okay with it, as long as it meant he was not pushing you away. You were not terrible by any means. Boring and awkward, definitely. But you made it clear to him that he could talk to you about what he wanted when he wanted. He was adamant that it went both ways. However, you genuinely don’t think anything going in your life is worth talking about. Hence, he’s the one who ends up talking most of the time.

He rubs your fingers to bring them warmth. The air of the living room feels awfully similar to that one time he surprised you and laid his head on your lap. That one time you wanted to play with his hair but didn’t. It was just like this. Quiet despite the TV’s low volume, comfortable as the light coming from the lamps was soft on the eyes, smelling of alcohol as he was a little drunk. Unsure as your hands were cold and was this what being friends meant?

Sometimes he craved the quiet. He worked and worked and worked. Voices everywhere. Danger constant. His only quiet was home, you suppose.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

“I ate cereal,” you answer him.

“Has no nutritional value whatsoever,” he mutters.

“Yeah, it’s just me being lazy.”

“I don’t think we have anything in the fridge, I don’t blame you.”

You both finish your food in silence, you pretend to watch the screen in front of you the whole time. You hug your knees to your chest when you’re done and he looks like he can fall asleep any minute.

“How was your day?” you ask to keep him awake. You don’t want him to sleep here and have his back and neck all sore tomorrow.

He rests his chin on his shoulder and gives you a funny look through his long lashes. “Same as always.”

You admit to yourself that you love him like this. He seems free, happy even.

You decide to be bold and tap your shoulder for him to lay his head on.  

He doesn’t seem to be thinking twice as he takes your offer and nuzzles his head on your shoulder. He’s taller and bigger than you, you suppose the position he’s in right now is not comfortable for him. He reaches back around the couch and the other hand crosses his abdomen, gripping your ankle that he is closest to. His thumb draws circles there and your brain short circuits. “How was yours?”

“My day? Nothing exciting. All paperwork.”

He hums as he squeezes your ankle, his hair tickling your nose and lips.

“You really need a shower, Leon.” You make up the courage to smooth down his blonde hair that is sticking up in every direction.

He hums again. “Are you telling me I stink?”

“Yes, mister.”

“I’m tired,” he groans but doesn’t seem tired enough as he pushes his head and messes up your balance on the couch. You have to hold on to the arm rest as he keeps nudging you with his head.

“You’ll feel gross in the morning if you don’t have a shower.”

“You have a point,” he says but does nothing to get up. Maybe it was a bad idea to offer him your shoulder and unknowingly, your ankle. He’s never acted like a kid like this before.

You get up and turn off the TV before you offer him both of your hands. “You’re not tipsy, you’re drunk. Now get up and wash yourself please.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Yes, you are. You headbutted me.”

He takes your hands and finally gets up. “I think I ran out of shampoo.”

“You can use mine. Brush your teeth while I go get it.” You pat his back.

There’s two bedrooms in the house, one is for guests but you’ve never had guests over since you’ve both moved into this apartment. Leon uses the “guest” room downstairs. He insisted that you take the bigger room. He’s more like a roommate than a spouse.

He’s shirtless in front of the sink, brushing his teeth like you told him to when you knock on his bathroom door and hand him your shampoo. He reads the fragrance and opens its cap to smell it.

“Well, you smell nice so I can’t complain,” he says, toothbrush still in his mouth, dribbling toothpaste everywhere.

You love him in moments like these. This is the moment the wife reaches and kisses the husband. Well, maybe after he’s done dribbling everywhere but you know how this moment should go about. He won’t be like this in the morning. You know very well that he is going to be sober and back to normal Leon. He won’t say anything about his drunk self because he knows you won’t as well.

“Don’t fall in the shower!” you shout as you go upstairs to your room.

“I’m not that drunk!”

The next morning, he sees you making coffee in the kitchen. It hasn’t been long since your schedule got aligned with his. He wonders how the hell you managed to adjust your sleeping hours to the point now you could wake up before him. He used to wake up before you because you often had late shifts.

“Morning,” he says as he smells the delicious coffee that you’re pouring into two mugs. He yawns, scratching an itch on his arm. He did not use to have a coffee machine back when he was living alone. You had brought it with you to this house and saved him from Starbucks’ morning rush hour.

You slide one of the mugs in front of him and give him a warm smile. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

He blows on the coffee before he takes a sip. “Much better now.” He clears his throat, his morning voice gruff. “I was thinking… We should commute together.”

“To work?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“Where else?” he snorts. “What’s surprising? Why pay more for gas when we start work at the same time?”

“Wouldn’t that be…”

“It wouldn’t interfere with anything if you think about it. It’s stupid to take both cars to the same place.”

“I might work overtime,” you say and hug yourself.

He nods into his mug and seems like he wants to say more. “Then you can take your car. You’ve just started normal hours. Why are you eager to tire yourself out so quickly?”

So that we don’t have to be awkward around each other.

“C’mon, it’ll be convenient.”

You hate that word. You hate that word with your whole being. Back then, it meant something entirely different when he said it. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient. Convenient is why you married him. Convenient is why you are here now.

It is what you repeat to yourself over and over again. It was convenient to have slept with him. It didn’t have to be a big deal. You were lonely. You reckon he had to be, too. Because why else would he want to have sex with you? He did not love you or anything. You could only think of one thing when his face was buried in your neck. You still had his yellow roses. You had preserved them between your book pages.

As he was panting above you, hands grasping your hips with vigor, your thighs caging him in and burning, you felt like a rose stuck between thousands of words never read aloud. Yellow all over, sticking out like a sore thumb between words printed in the smallest font size possible, suffocating. Once belonged with other flowers but now settled down in a place where people thought you’d look pretty.

You hate the color yellow as much as you hate the word convenient. If not, more.

He sees you wince. He cannot guess the reason behind it is his choice of words. “What do you say?”

He is offering, you think. He still likes you enough to ask.

“Okay.”

“Good, we need to get groceries on the way back.”   

People don’t whisper much now that it’s been nearly two years since you two announced to your close work circle that you were married. There were a lot of surprised faces at first, thinking maybe Leon was joking or something. People didn’t know you very well. You were only close with Cathy.

“Perhaps we should wear rings,” said Leon once over dinner. “People don’t believe we’re married.”

“Is that a problem? What others think, I mean?”

He stared at your face while chewing, you couldn’t make out what he was thinking thanks to the dim light emanating from one of the lamps. “They think it’s a joke. Is it so bad that I want to be taken seriously for once? You wanted a wedding dress, I want a ring.”

“When do you want to get them?”

That led to you choosing matching rings with Leon. Simple gold bands. You make sure to wear them to work every day because if you don’t, you worry people will start to whisper again.

First it was, Leon’s not the type to get married, he’s taking the piss out of us, is it April fools today?

Then it turned into: Oh God, he’s serious, he says he got married last weekend.

Eloped? To whom?

He said her name but I don’t remember it, said she’s in archives now.

He’s married to an archivist? How on earth did they meet?

Probably in Donovan’s funeral, saw Hunnigan introducing them.

That wasn’t long ago!

I know, right?

You know some of them thought you had a one-night stand and got pregnant from him. The rumors subsided when that didn’t turn out to be true.

However, people were curious about why Ingrid Hunnigan would introduce an archivist to an agent. It didn’t take long for your name to become known because you had recently switched departments. You had been a systems analyst like Hunnigan, working with late Cathy Donovan. You’d switched to archives after her funeral.

People greeted you when they saw you. Leon’s wife, right?

Yes, but not really.

The first time Leon ever saw you was during agent Donovan’s funeral. He’d gotten back from Spain just a week ago. He did not know agent Donovan well but her name echoed in every corner. She was good at her job. Most of the time, nobody had an idea what she was up to.

“Leon, I want you to meet Cathy’s partner,” said Hunnigan, holding the shoulder of the woman standing next to her.

You stuck your hand out for him to shake and told him your name. It sounded disconsolate coming from your mouth, your own name. Your eyes were dazed, you kept your mouth in a thin line. You didn’t even look at him properly as if this was the hundredth occurrence today, Hunnigan introducing you to someone.

“I’ve heard a lot of great things about agent Donovan.” He didn’t know what else to say.

“Right, she was great,” you said, your eyes straying elsewhere. It looked like Hunnigan’s hand on your shoulder was the only thing keeping you from crumbling down. You looked so small with your shoulders hunched forward. He cringed when he saw you rip out the flesh of the side of your thumb.

Hunnigan went on about Cathy Donovan’s accomplishments to him. You continued to pick at your thumb, him watching your side profile as you kept averting your gaze from people around you. You seemed to be dissociating hard.

“These two were inseparable. I tried asking Cathy to work with me on a small mission once and she praised her so much in turn, I had to suck it up and meet this woman myself as soon as possible,” said Hunnigan heatedly. “I’m such a big fan of Cathy’s, you see, I couldn’t be upset. I love seeing her work with the best.”

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you managed to say, a beat too late. “I need to use the restroom, be right back.”

Leon knew too well that losing someone was difficult, yet he couldn’t imagine what you were going through. He furrowed his brows the moment his hand made contact with your upper arm. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, he didn’t want to seem like he took pity on you.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You made the effort to look him in the eye when it was obvious as day that you were having a hard time keeping your head up.

Your voice barely came out, “Thank you.”

Of course, you did not recognize him the second time he saw you. It was his late celebratory dinner for his mission in Spain. His coworkers had planned a small one, saying he deserved it. Once he was done with his food, he excused himself saying he wanted to get fresh air.

Not too far from the restaurant, you were sitting on a bench alone.

“Those things will kill you, y’know,” he said, eyes pointing to the cigarette you were smoking.

His unexpected voice caused you to jump in your seat. You quickly put the cigarette out by stomping it with your shoe. “I don’t usually… smoke.”

He dragged his feet while walking to sit down on the opposite end of the bench. “You didn’t have to put it out.” Though he thought you were very considerate by doing so.

“Congratulations, for the mission.”

“Thank you— name’s Leon, by the way.”

You stuck your chin out to the direction of the restaurant, “Or so I heard in there.”

“We actually met before. At the funeral.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t remember half the people I met there.”  

“No need to be sorry. You seemed out of it.”

“Yeah, we worked together for a long time, Cathy and I.”

“Look, I know it’s hard and anything I say probably won’t make any difference—”

“You don’t need to—” Your voice quite literally got stuck on your throat, you composed yourself by bringing the side of your fist to your mouth and coughed into it. “I’m trying to get better. I’m here today, which is a miracle in of itself. I know people think it’s probably good to talk about her but I’m just not in the mood, okay? Thank you for your understanding but I don’t need to be reminded, it happened not so long ago.”

“Right. Sorry.”

“No, I know you mean well.” You started to sway your feet on the gravel. It was completely understandable for you to lash out but you seemed uneasy as soon as it was out of you. “Sorry, this is your happy day. I shouldn’t—”

“You realize how many times we said sorry to each other in this past minute?” he laughed. “Also, I lost a partner in Spain. I’m not that happy today.”

Your voice turning faint, seemingly regretting your flash of anger a moment ago, “You probably feel like you shouldn’t be happy.”

He nodded. “He helped me a lot but didn’t make it.” He saw your mouth open and stopped you there. “Don’t say you’re sorry. It loses its meaning when you say it too much.”

“Even if I mean it with my whole heart every time?”

“That means you’re sorry for a lot of things. It’s not healthy to carry that much weight on your shoulders.”

“Right, I’ll be like Quasimodo.” You hunched your shoulders even more forward. “Like the hunchback.”

“From the Disney movie?”

You giggled at his childishness. “Yeah, I heard there’s also a book about it.”

He looked at your squinted eyes and thought you deserved to be happy more.

As you two carried on your now meaningless conversation, he did not know that you were certain on resigning from your job and never turning back to it. You’d started to work on the archives that week, partly because your boss had foreseen you contemplating quitting all together and did not want to lose a highly valuable member such as yourself and partly because you had requested it.

At that point, you were absolutely aware of the fact that they feared you’d never turn back to your former position. And because Cathy didn’t have any plans of ever becoming alive, you also didn’t have any plans on returning. But you knew the reason behind them doing anything you asked was them giving you time to grieve. After that, the pressure would build even more and hopefully make you take your old place.

“It was Hunnigan’s idea,” you said to Leon after he asked you very kindly why you were here tonight. “Basically dragged me here. She thinks I should be around people more.”

“She’s right. I’m glad you came.”

Leon was cute, alright. That didn’t do him justice, actually. It was evident under the street light where the bench was that he worked out regularly. Biceps giving a hard time to his sleeves every time he moved, veins protruding on his forearms, his thighs looking like they’d help him carry ten people on his large back. And oh, his broader-than-the-horizon shoulders. An absolute unit of a man with cheekbones and jawline honed like a Greek statue. With his dark blonde hair falling on his face in that charming way and his oh so kind blue eyes, you knew he was out of your league.

His gentle aura making him seem like a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever the fuck those Disney movies had.

You planned on never seeing anyone from work again, you had nothing to lose. And Cathy so would say to shoot your shot.

“I’m thinkin’ of getting a few drinks in me, want to tag along?”

“What do you have in mind?” He seemed interested, a good sign.

“You got any suggestions? And don’t say beer because I plan on getting wasted beyond recognition in like an hour.”

“Yeah, be careful. And don’t drink and drive.” The way he took a U-turn on his interest irritated you. You really thought he wouldn’t say no, you were getting along well, flirting even. “Did you come here with your car?”

“Yeah.” You tried to not sound upset. “I’m not a teenager. I’ll take a cab. Drinks will be on me.”

“Ah, thanks but I’ll have to refuse. They’ll probably wonder where I went. It’s my dinner, after all.” The polite smile he gave you was so infuriating.

You got up from the bench. He had the audacity to look you up and down after that. “Then please tell Hunnigan I’m sorry I left early, will you?”

“I will.” He fidgeted and crossed his arms. Oh God, you’d made him uncomfortable. It was just minutes ago he was sort of flirting with you. “Don’t drink too much.”

God, why did he have to be so annoying?

The next time you two met was at the closest pharmacist to work, few weeks after his dinner and your failed attempt to get him in your bed.  

“One box of aspirin, please.” Your head snapped up at that voice. Unmistakably, Leon. With his broad back facing you, he hadn’t seen you yet.

“What can I get you, miss?”

Leon stepped over to the side when they called to you, still not looking at you.

“Eyedrops, please.”

“Miss, are you alright?”

To that, he did a double-take. You’d looked disheveled to the point of worry. Eyes and nose a few shades redder than the rest of your face, eyebags puffy and makeup smudged. With your now extremely frizzy baby hairs doing anything but their job of framing your face, it was apparent that you’d been crying.

“Yes, it’s just an allergy.”

“Can I get you anything for that?”

“No, thank you. I already have meds for it.”

Leon thanked when they gave him his aspirin and turned to you. “Wait here, don’t go anywhere.” He quickly left the pharmacist.

Surprisingly, you did wait for him outside. Why? You had no idea. Frankly, you were hoping to cry more in your car.

Approximately five minutes later, he came to you jogging lightly. He thrusted a water bottle in your hand. “Where’s your medication?”

“What?”

“For your allergy?”

“Oh, um—” You couldn’t find a lie fast enough, usually you were not bad at lying but the way he appeared to be worrying about your well-being was baffling to say the least. “I don’t have it, I mean—” You pressed the water bottle to your stomach and held on to it for comfort. “I don’t have an allergy.”

It was his turn to be baffled. “Are you alright?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“You don’t look like it.” He looked at you and around you as though checking to see any injury. “You should drink up.” He motioned to the bottle and watched you take a gulp.

“Thank you. Oh, you should, too,” You tried to give him the rest of the water while his stare questioned you. “For your aspirin.”

“I already took it. I’m supposed to take it with water?”

“Yes, Leon. Have you been taking them without water this whole time? Then why did you bring me water?”

“I didn’t know that! You looked dehydrated.”

“That’s not good for you. Now I’m worried about your stomach.”

His blue eyes shined like he came to a revelation. “That’s why my stomach burns when I take them?”

How are you this stupid, you suppressed saying, if you had known him well enough at that time, you definitely would. You forgot for a second that you were annoyed at him for rejecting you few weeks ago and find yourself flabbergasted at thinking that he is endearing, in a way.

You made small talk with him about his lunch break and he insisted on walking you to your car.

“Can I help you with anything?” he said sympathetically once you stood in front of your open car door. “You still look…”

Like a truck hit me, you wanted to complete his sentence.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine. It just happens time to time.” You tried to make yourself presentable by adjusting your blouse and hair.

“It?”

“Sometimes I cry for no reason. It happens randomly, too, I don’t know when and where I’ll be crying most of the time. Like, I’ll be reading something, it doesn’t have to be sad, I mean— I was reading reports before I came here. Sometimes it gets too much, like now.”

“Will you be okay driving?”

“Yeah! Talking with you definitely helped.” His apprehensive gaze pierced through you. You actually felt like crying again, your chest feeling tight, eyes burning. You stood upright with the support of your car door. “I’ll be fine, Leon.”

“I’m choosing to believe you. Drive safe.” He shifted his weight on one of his legs and seemed ready to take off.

“Thank you. See you around?”

“You probably won’t for a while,” he said to the ground, soothing the itch on his calf with his other leg’s shin. He looked up and squinted his eyes against the sun. “I got assigned a mission. I don’t know for how long.”

“Oh, I’ll be at your celebratory dinner then, if I get an invitation.”

“Well, I don’t know how it will go. I’ll only invite you if you won’t talk for the whole dinner but flirt with me outside again.”

“You didn’t need to embarrass me like that,” you chuckled nervously. “I wouldn’t say I’m a push and pull kind of woman.”

“You can show me what kind of woman you are when I get back?”

“Very smooth, Leon.”

He seemed taken aback. “I’ll see you then.” Suddenly, he was distant again. This time you didn’t know what made him uneasy.

“Yeah… Be safe on your mission.”

He just nodded. You got in your car and gripped the steering wheel tightly until the sight of his leather jacket clad back disappeared. You hunched forward, shoved your forehead to the wheel and tried to take a deep breath. The crying spell didn’t go away as the tears burst down first and then the sobs jerked your entire body.

I will not ask you where you came from I will not ask you, neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips We should just kiss like real people do

—Like Real People Do, Hozier

The inside of Leon’s car smells nice, he takes good care of it.

“I’m going to see my sister this weekend,” you say, averting your gaze from the way he steers the wheel with one hand. His other hand is on his knee, tapping away. The effect his toned arms have on you is humiliating.

“I think I can make it.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t have anything that day. I can go with you. It’s your mother’s death anniversary, right? I think it’s time I pay my respects.”

It’s these things he says that leave you puzzled. He’s incredibly thoughtful, no matter who he’s talking to. He very well could have his day off-work for himself, but he asks anyway.

“Do you actually want to meet my sister?”

“I do. I hope to make a good first impression.”

You think about it for a second and end up telling him. “I sent a picture of you to her back when we got married.”

“How’d you get a picture of me?” he asks, appalled. The only picture he has of himself besides the wedding one is on his badge.

“Our wedding picture, dummy. We have one, remember?”

“Oh, right, I forgot.” You can’t complain because you keep it in a dresser drawer in the envelope it came in. He was on duty again when it came and you’d showed it to him once he was home. The left corner of his lips had curled up and for a second, you thought you saw affection in his eyes. “It came out okay? I was sweating buckets, but you—" he’d said and pointed a finger to your face in the photo. “Your hands were ice cold, I nearly asked you to paste your hands to my forehead just so I could cool down.”

“We still have the picture, right?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s in my room. Why?”

“Can I have it?”

“Yeah, they sent two. Can I ask what you’re going to do with it?”

“Give it to the mafia or hire a hitman to go after you, what else?” He lets out a hollow laugh. You want to record the sound and have it forever play in your ears. “I want to frame it and put it on my desk. People usually have pictures of their spouses and children or even their dogs on their desks, no?”

Yes, you know. You have pictures with your best friend and sister on your own desk at work.

It’s his way of saying you mean something to him.

You call your sister’s name as soon as you see it. “Why do you have this picture here?”

She’s carrying the empty plates to the sink as you hold on to her fridge’s door handle.

She looks up to see you pointing at your wedding picture. It’s on her fridge. You don’t even display it in your own house.

“You printed it?”

“I did,” she says. “It’s a good picture.” Her house is littered with pictures of her and her husband on different vacations, of you and your mother and her together in some.

“You just met Leon today.”

“And I think he’s great. You’re happy with him. That’s all I could ask for.”

You were happy since he was in a good mood the entire ride coming here. It was long but you two had a smooth ride and he amused you with his corny jokes and stories. You tore small pieces of bagel and fed him when he said he was getting hungry. He was tired from driving the whole time, but of course he didn’t have it any other way and jestingly banned you from getting behind the wheel. He did make a good first impression like he promised, although he kept bobbing his cramped leg. He’s now in the backyard with your brother-in-law, chatting about football, probably.

Your sister gets your attention by giving you a side hug and rubbing your back. “You’re my only sister, of course I’m going to have a picture of your happiest day.”

You hug her back around her waist. She even had photos of your birth in the living room. Your mom in a hospital bed, one day-old baby you cradled in her arms, your father hugging your mother and looking down at you with adoration in his eyes. Did he know then, that he would never be there for you to look at you like that again?

“You remember dad, right?” you ask quietly. She was older and was able to tell stories about him to you. “How was he like? Before he left, I mean.”

“Like I told you, he loved us so much. I don’t know if it was the same case for my mom. She later told me she saw it coming, that he likely had another woman.”

“How did mom know?”

Your sister sighs and rest her head on top of yours. “She said she could just feel it. Said he felt distant. He used to come home late leading up to it, sometimes drunk. One day I woke up and he wasn’t home. Didn’t say anything, just abandoned us like that.”

There’s that sadness again, creeping up to your chest and placing a big rock there. You feel like you’re being crushed by it. Your mom had always been ambitious, had dreams for herself and her family, deserved so much more than what she got.

Leon’s laughing loudly in the backyard, your head whips to see the sight.

“Come on, go mingle with your husband. I got it from here,” says your sister and starts to place the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll go get us some beer,” says your brother-in-law and gets up from his chair. The weather is amazing today, your sister had set up a nice meal outside. Leon was getting along with them well. What more could you ask for?

You find yourself alone with Leon when your brother-in-law goes inside the house. You sit next to him and he promptly puts his arm on the back of your chair.

“How’s your leg?” you ask him.

“My thighs are sore,” he groans. “Good thing we’re not driving back tonight.”

“Well, I wouldn’t let you anyways.” You put a hand on his knee and start to massage, hoping it will help his aching legs. You’re even bolder than a few days ago. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

“It hurts here,” he says and grabs your hand, placing it higher on his thigh. “You can put more pressure, I can hardly feel it.” His thigh is firm and thank God, your hands manage to stay stable. You ball your hands into fists and start to punch lightly where he wants. The meat of his thighs doesn’t even jiggle, reminding you that he’s mostly made of muscle.

You focus up on his knees. “I’ll drive us to the cemetery tomorrow.”

“I can—”

“No. You’re tired, Leon. I want to drive, don’t make me upset.”  

“Would you actually be upset if I—”

“Yes, very.” You pinch his thigh and that makes him press his lips together.

“They’re really nice, you know,” he means your sister and her husband. “I feel like an ass for not meeting them sooner.”

“You like them?” You raise an eyebrow.  

“I do.”

“So, any propositions?”

“Huh?”

“Got asked for a threesome yet?” you smirk.

“I’m sorry?” He’s horrified and you find it funny.

“After I sent the wedding picture to them, they both said you were hot. I just remembered it.”

“I’d rather not know that!”

“Relax, Kennedy. I’m just joking. They’re not gonna ask you that.”

He visibly relaxes and puts you in a headlock in a play-fight manner with the arm that was behind you. His nose and mouth pressed up against your hair, he says, “I’ll just tell them I’m a one-lady type of man if they ever do.” You consider biting his arm.

“Can the lovebirds look up here for a second?” chirps your sister. She has come with her camera outside. “It’s the golden hour.”

Leon adjusts his head to look towards the camera and relaxes his hold on you, arm dangling from your shoulder, other hand engulfs yours on his knee, rings clashing.  

“Aww,” your sister coos as she takes the photo. “I’ll send this to you.”

She doesn’t suspect a thing, probably because you’re not pretending anymore.

You splash your face with cold water after you’re done brushing your teeth in your sister’s guest room bathroom. Leon’s inside the room, splayed out on the bed, exhausted after today. It won’t be awkward, you say to yourself, hope to God your hands don’t start to tremble from anxiety.

Leon has taken off his t-shirt, bent one of his knees and put his hands behind his head. Not helping your case by looking irresistible. Even the tufts of hair under his arms are endearing to you.

“How are you holding up?” he asks once you sit on the bed next to him, back facing him. He knows you will visit Cathy too when you get back.

“I’m good, Leon.” You take off your ring and place it next to his on the bedside drawer. “Never been better, actually. I missed them.” You twist your upper body to face him. “Here,” you say as you place your newly washed cold damp hands on both sides of his face in attempts to cool him down.

He shivers, his shoulders going up slightly for a quick second. “That’s nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. You’re silent, in part because you’re speechless before his beauty, but you also would like to try to give him a little piece of serenity he needs.

“This used to be my mom’s room when she was living here.”

He hums softly and opens his eyes, his hands coming up to hold on to your bare arms, the skin between his eyebrows pinched.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, hands finding place on his broad shoulders.

He starts to rub your arms up and down, his hands stopping after a while to trace a strap of your tank top with his fingers. All of your worries about intimate gestures going out the window the moment you let his hands wander.

This is the tender domesticity that you’ve been longing for so badly, you want to thank him.

He scrunches his nose. “I wanted to kiss you, now I think it’ll be inappropriate.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your grip on his shoulders is now stronger, begging not to tremble. He feels lonely, he shouldn’t have come here. You have to swallow hard. “It won’t.”

His hand goes up to cup the back of your neck, he’s staring at your lips like he doesn’t wish for anything else. “C’mere.” He tugs at your hip to get the lower half of your body up on the bed. He drapes you halfway on his torso.

Once you’re situated to his liking and casting a shadow on his face, he brings you down ever so gently to his mouth, massaging your nape. He’s hot all over, his mouth, his breath on your face, his chest, the hand that’s splaying his fingers on the small of your back. With his soft lips moving lazily against yours, you’re quite literally bursting at the seams. The muffled sigh he drags across your mouth tempts you to press your entire body to his harder and sling your leg across his hips.

His kisses turn into open-mouthed ones and he tastes like minty toothpaste and sunlight on golden hour.

A small noise comes out of your throat, hands straying down to his bare chest and he has to cradle your face to stop. “We should sleep.” His Adam’s apple bobs enticingly. “I seriously don’t want to disrespect your mother’s ghost.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he hugs your head and buries it to his chest, his chin resting on top. “You’ll apologize to her tomorrow.”

It’s okay, you think when you feel the low timbre of his chuckle on his chest. We’re okay. We’re doing better.

There's no plan, there's no race to be run The harder the rain, honey, the sweeter the sun There's no plan, there's no kingdom to come I'll be your man if you got love to get done Sit in and watch the sunlight fade Honey, enjoy, it's gettin' late There's no plan, there's no hand on the rein

—No Plan, Hozier

The fourth time you saw Leon Kennedy was at a bar. You thought his coworkers were going to be there to see him after his mission but it was just you two.

He had emailed you a day before, saying he asked for your email address from Hunnigan, inviting you for drinks the next day and apologizing for letting you know this late.

“Where’s everyone? Am I early?” you asked, despite noticing the table he was sitting at was for two people.

He looked up and you were taken aback by the sight of him. He looked tired. He had a bit of a stubble and his hair was tousled. “No, you’re right on time,” he said, getting up to pull your chair for you. “It’s good to see you.”

“Likewise,” you said, ridding yourself from your jacket. You actually put in the effort to look good that day. A nice outfit, a little bit more makeup, hair done.

As you sat down in front of him, a corner of his lips went up, “You look good.”

“The last time we spoke wasn’t my best moment.”

“How have you been?”

You placed your hands on the table and started to play with your fingers, anxious. “Since then? Better, I suppose. How about you? Your mission went well?”

“Depends on how you define well.”

“You’re still in one piece.”

“If only that was enough.” You didn’t get to see his disappointed expression for long when a server came up to your table and Leon quickly ordered a drink, asked what you wanted and waited with his hands together on the table.

Once the server was away, you slightly leaned towards him. “They should be grateful that they got their best agent back alright.” Although you couldn’t ask him any details about his mission, you knew he was a special agent that was good at this job.

“Hunnigan told me you’re in the archives.”

“Yeah, that happened months ago, before your dinner.”

“Why the change of heart?”

“I—uh…” Your throat felt dry under his piercing stare. “I wasn’t needed there anymore. So I transferred.”

“Really? I heard it’s quite the opposite.”

“Oh, they’re talking about me?”

“Yes, seems like they really want you to work with agents again.”

“I know that,” you said and dug your fingernails to the corner of the table, his eyes following the motion.

“What do you mean?” he said, scratching his jaw. “You said you weren’t needed.”

“I felt like I wasn’t being useful. I tried to quit. They tried really hard to keep me there. Now, they’re constantly asking me to come back after everything.”

“They do know how to squeeze the last bit out of everyone,” he nodded. “Are you happy with where you are right now?”

“As in life?” You rolled your eyes thinking about it. “What does it look like?”

“I was worried the last time I saw you.” He sounded sincere.

“I know, I looked miserable.” Probably looked like the physical embodiment of a cry for help, too. “Can we not dwell on it, please? I’m better now. But now you—” You reach and tap on the middle of the table. “You look like you need to sleep for days.”

“That would be great,” he sighed.

You kept looking at the door but no one from work was coming in. “Why is no one coming, Leon?”

“They won’t, to be honest with you. I only invited you.”

Your back was then one with the chair. “Oh.”

“I should’ve let you know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind the quiet,” you smiled. And then you realized, he was doing the same thing you were doing, pushing anyone and anything away.

Him reaching out to you, this was his cry for help. Why you specifically, you didn’t know.

“You told me you lost a partner in Spain, were you close?”

To that, he dropped his chin and stared at his lap. “No, I wouldn’t say that. I didn’t know him. We met under strange circumstances and ended up helping each other. I got the impression that he regretted a lot of things but wanted to believe people could change.”

“I believe people can change, for the better or worse,” you mumbled.

Your server came with your drinks. Leon didn’t waste a second and downed nearly half of his drink. “You tried to quit?” he asked.

“I did. I thought it was time for a little stability in my life. This is as far as I can get to it,” you said and took a sip of your drink which was the same one as Leon. It was strong.

“Stability. That’s unlikely in this job,” he scoffed, fingers tapping at his glass.

“Do you see it as impossible, Leon?” You desperately hoped he would say no, you needed to hear from someone that it wasn’t just a pipe dream.  

He seemed to be thinking for a slow moment. “I guess, for some people, it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

“For you it would?” you inquired.

“I once thought I would marry my first girlfriend. I was like what? Twenty, twenty-one? I was really stupid and in love. If twenty-one-year-old Leon saw this, he would be devastated,” he said and raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t think I can find someone who would understand what I do. It’s not like I can tell them. They’d be in danger because of me. I can’t ask them to trust me blindly. I wouldn’t want them to.”

“If someone was willing to accept you as you are, do you think..?”

“Who in their right mind would?” he groaned in exasperation.

“I would. But my situation is different, I have an understanding of what you do. I also can’t be in any more danger than I already am.” There was a beat of silence after you said that. The drink was definitely too much for you, you were sure. Your ears were burning hot, one hand coming up to cool one down with your nervous cold fingers, your eyes roamed the whole place. You chugged the remaining of your drink and wiped your mouth.

“Whoa, slow down there,” he bolted and looked at your abashed face as if he was in a contemporary art museum, trying to understand what the artist meant with their absurd piece.

Feeling self-conscious, you fixed your hair and babbled out, “Why did you get into this line of work in the first place?”

His back straightened, shoulders rolling back. “I was… recruited.” You didn’t quite understand how but remained from prodding any further. “I was the best candidate for what they wanted. An orphan who didn’t have anything to lose.”

It really wasn’t going well for you. You wanted to bang your head against the table and avoid looking at him completely but after what he had revealed to you, you couldn’t be any ruder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”

If Cathy were to hear about this, you wouldn’t hear the end of it. Good job honey, that’s one way to woo a man. She would’ve said it in that sarcastic tone which she infamously was a master of.

“No, it’s fine,” said Leon. “You could do so much better than me, though.”

Have you seen yourself, you wanted to exclaim.

Your nostrils were wide, trying to sober you up by hogging as much oxygen as possible, you tried to remain calm, you were feral however. “Why do you keep putting yourself down, Leon? You know, you could’ve called your friends today and they would’ve come running to you. You’re a great person, they don’t give a damn about how successful your mission was. They’re happy that you’re back, that’s all. They are your friends, not the alcohol.”  

He was dead silent, staring at his glass with an expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“I’m sorry for overstepping but I saw how they were trying to look out for you at the dinner. There wasn’t even a glass of wine there, celebration my ass. Everybody can tell you’re not fine. I don’t know you that well but even I can tell. What you’re doing to yourself isn’t healthy. It’s self-destructive.”

He wiped his forehead. “You’re the one to talk.”

“Excuse me?”

“Hunnigan’s always talking about how you’re running away every time you see her. She has to drag you everywhere. She’s being nice to you, you could try appreciating that, you know? And you’re clearly stuck up on something, are you trying to repent for your sins or what?” He quite literally disarmed you with his icy stare.

“I’m not Catholic,” you retorted.

“Well, would you look at that. We’re more similar than I thought.” The smirk he had on was sardonic, the furthest from being friendly. You felt an urge to get up and never look back.

“Wrong,” you said as you crossed your arms. “I don’t expect alcohol to solve my problems.”

“Yeah, you’d rather run away from them. And that isn’t going well for you, is it?” He finished his drink and motioned for the server for another. “Also, stop being a hypocrite.”

“Excuse you?” you said with seething anger.

“Are you not trying to ‘get wasted beyond recognition’ right now, as you put it?” he sneered and pointed out your empty glass.

“That was one time, I usually don’t drink. And I’m not planning on drinking more.”

“Oh, did I ruin your fun?”

“Stop that,” you said through your gritted teeth. “Stop being mean. I’m not your friend. You don’t have to push me away. I don’t know why you invited me here. I can just get up and go, leave you with whatever you have up your ass that’s making you act like this. I’m only asking you to stop putting yourself down so much and you’re being all defensive. You know what, I don’t deserve this.” You got up from your chair, grabbing your jacket and purse.

He stood up quickly and tried to follow you. “Sit down, Leon. Your drink is coming.” You didn’t give him any chance to reply and threw the amount of cash that covered your single glass of alcohol on the table.

The walk from the noiseless bar to the nearest bus stop was not pleasant, to say the least. The air was biting cold, hitting your warm cheeks and making you shiver.

Leon only lost sight of you because he stopped to tip the server generously. He fucked up big time, he knew that. It was going to be a pain in the ass if you already jumped in a cab but he had hope that no vacant cab was passing the area on a Friday night.

He was stupid to think this would go smoothly. The last time he saw you, he was concerned about you. The way you’d casually admitted you were not fine was echoing in his mind. He wanted to see if you’d be there by the time he was back from duty. He admitted he was scared for you, for that woman who seemed so small during the funeral, for that woman who had a meltdown in her car in the middle of the day, barely hanging on.

He wanted to tell you today that maybe you should quit. But you had already crossed that bridge.

Maybe you wanted to help people, too. At least at the beginning. Now you wanted peace and quiet, because your life has been anything but. Unlike you, he gave up on that a while ago. He wanted to regard your daring words— I would— as being drunk, he really did.

Ada would never admit she’d want something like that to him, to anyone. Ada didn’t want a stable life, she would never live at a place longer than a month, work with someone more than twice. Even after all of their encounters, Leon still didn’t know what her actual motives were. Raccoon City, Spain, his last mission.

It was pitiful, the way his breath would hitch every time he saw a dark-haired woman wearing red out of the corner of his eye. His heart would pound in his ears for a quick second before he’d realize he was mistaken. He would allow himself, for a brief moment, that maybe it was Ada, here to see him. However, she was never the one to be sentimental. Her every action had a tangible intention that Leon could never guess.

But Leon knew she cared. Enough to save him every goddamn time he needed saving. Enough to ask him to come with her. If he was twenty-one, he would’ve chosen to tail behind her, ready to follow her wherever. Except he had changed, he was not naive anymore. He’d like to think he made the right choice by separating their ways back in Spain. He didn’t know if he was going to be used again.

He also didn’t know what would become of them. Needless to say, he wasn’t going to abandon the mission and ride off into the sunset with Ada yet a part of him wondered about their alternate universe in which he chose to follow her. What would have happened if he just hopped onto that helicopter with her? Where would she have taken him? Was she planning on greeting him properly after all those years? Was he ready to forgive her after Raccoon City?

Perhaps she would have dropped him off somewhere, with a phone number or an address, leaving him confused yet again. Maybe he would’ve reached out, met her in a different circumstance where they didn’t have to constantly run away from trouble. Maybe she’d be living in a small flat and then she’d ask him to come over. Maybe he’d continue to visit her, make himself familiar with her small space.

Except that was not feasible at all, since she was a fleeting kind of woman, just like all the moments they shared. Not there to stay. And none of these would happen, it would always be a different hotel room, different city, barring him from being constant in her life.

A puppy love, he used to think. Young, naive, credulous love. No, he realized, it got older and bigger, sicker. It was time to put it down, put it out of its misery.

He sprinted to the bus station, his hunch was right, you were sitting there, arms folded on your chest, alone. You looked up the moment you heard his footsteps. He left a few steps between you two and braced himself by putting his palms on his knees.

“Why did you come here?” he asked, his eyes were focused on your red nose. Probably from the cold, he convinced himself.

“What do you mean? You asked me to,” you grimaced.

“You said we’re not friends, so why did you come here?”

Your head turned opposite of Leon, resting your chin on your shoulder and hugging yourself tighter. “I wanted some company,” you grumbled, the collar of your jacket muffling your voice. “I think Hunnigan’s right and I might need it.”

“Sorry I’m not a decent one.” He took slow steps to sit next to you on the narrow bench of the bus stop, his shoulder grazing yours. That made you perk up at him.

“I’m sorry for the things I said earlier,” you said, holding his gaze.

“You said a lot of things.”

“Well, I’m sorry for all of them, I crossed a line.”

“Don’t be, I needed the scolding.”

“I didn’t mean to scold you.”

He knocked his knee to yours. “Do you always regret the things you say immediately after? I was an asshole, you got angry, rightfully so.”

“But I was the one who started it,” you pursed your lips.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re not kids.”

“I, uh, called a taxi, should be here in a few minutes,” you said after a minute of silence.

“Okay, tell me something in the meantime.”

“What do you want to hear?”

His thumb caressed his brow, he was contemplating. “Would you consider marrying me?”

“What?”

“Would you marry me? If I asked?”

“No, I heard you the first time.” Your eyes took in every inch of his face, searching for a sign, anything that might explain this. “Leon, are you drunk?” 

“No, I’m nowhere near drunk. It takes more than one drink for me to get buzzed.” He crossed his arms, imitating you. “Think about it, we can both try to live calm and stable.”

Your face was contorted in confusion, still for a slight pause. “People don’t marry out of spite, Leon. They marry out of love.”

“Who said anything about spite?”

“You’re clearly angry at something or someone.”

“I am not.”

“This life you are living right now… isn’t quite what you planned, is it? Some things didn’t go according to plan and now you’re here, trying to steer the reins again. And you’re angry.”

“What are you, my therapist?” This time his comeback didn’t sound as if it was meant to hurt you, but to make the air between you lighter. “I guess I do resent some things, doctor.”  

You went along with his enactment. “Admitting is a huge step Leon, I appreciate the honesty.”

“Now you be honest,” he said, bouncing his leg in impatience. “Are you in a relationship? Am I being creepy by cornering you like this?”

“I’m not and I don’t feel cornered. If I did, I’d just get up and go. You just saw.”

He nodded, his lips in a thin line. “Experienced firsthand how you run away from your problems and I don’t mean it figuratively.”

You chuckled. “You are not a problem in my life.”

“Not a friend either.”

Your smile dropped. “I don’t think we know each other that well.”

He hummed, looking far away. “That’s probably your cab.” He got up, shaking off dust from his jeans. “Take my number before you get in and let me know when you make it home safe.”

You gave him your number but didn’t get to write your name in his contacts as the cab drew near. “Thanks for keeping me company, you didn’t need to run after me,” you said as you handed him his phone.

“We won’t dwell on it,” he winked as he opened the back door of the cab for you. “And think it over, okay?”

“What?”

“My proposal. We can get to know each other, then we can get married. It doesn’t have to be a big deal. It’ll be convenient.”

“Tell me one good thing that will be convenient.”

“Uh, okay. Here’s two for you,” he said and held up two fingers. “A better healthcare plan and tax benefits.”

You laughed and the driver seemed annoyed that you were still standing in front of the open door. “I should get going.”

“Text me when you get home,” he said when you finally got in the car.

You texted him again two weeks after his ridiculous proposal.

Hi, Leon. Do you remember what you asked me after the bar two weeks ago?

Hi. Yes I remember.

Were you being serious or should I pass it as tipsy nonsense?

There was no response from him for a few minutes and you had started biting your nails nervously.

I was being serious. I wasn’t tipsy.

You stared at his short text longer than it took him to reply. You had already made up your mind but it felt cheap telling him over a text. This was not the proper way of doing this. You also didn’t know how to convey this to him, so you resorted to a playful text.

Ask me properly and I’ll consider it.

I’ll ask you again properly over dinner next Friday? I know a good Italian place.

The next Friday, he kept his promise and said those four words in a fancy quiet Italian restaurant. You said yes.

“I have a request,” you said, swirling your wine before taking a sip. “I want a wedding dress, not like a gown or anything. Just a simple white dress.”

“Sure, I already have a suit that I can wear.”

Your heart tugged in your chest. The fact that you had to buy your wedding dress by yourself, no matter how simple you envisioned it to be, without Cathy by your side was making your ears ring, drowning out all the knife and fork clatter around you.

Here's my hand There's the itch But I'm not supposed to scratch

—Love Me More, Mitski

It’s four a.m. and you want to say you’ve actually seen it coming. Every time something good happens, its catastrophe follows eventually. Just like how Cathy’s mission was going so well until it wasn’t.

It’s four a.m. and the meal you’ve prepared for Leon has gone cold on the dining table. You thought he’d be hungry when he came back from mission, so you went out and bought ingredients, followed a recipe word for word, even made soup additionally just in case he didn’t feel like eating solid food after what his body’s been through. He said he’d be back at one a.m. and he hasn’t contacted you since. You’ve called and texted him numerous times but it was radio silence from him.

He had promised you, before you got married, that he would always let you know when he got back from a mission and he always did. He never once forgot because you were very serious about this, wanted to know as soon as possible that he was back safe.

It’s four a.m. and you feel like you’re going crazy, soaring into a heaving fit as each minute passes by.

The sound of his keys makes you clutch at your chest and before you even realize, your legs are walking you to the front door. He’s being quiet and you wait for him few steps behind the door. His steps are feather light, head bowed down to take off his shoes, he exhales a long breath as he places his backpack down.

He flinches when he sees your silhouette in the dark. “God, you scared me. I thought you’d be sleeping.”

“You didn’t text me,” your voice breaks, your hands are clutching at the sides of your pajama shirt like it’s a lifeline.

“I forgot.”

Your tears threaten to fall down and you’re grateful that it’s dark and he can’t see. You bite down your lip strong enough to make it bleed. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine, you didn’t need to stay up.”

It’s not like you chose to, you physically couldn’t lie down or eat anything when your mind went all haywire, creating the worst possible scenarios it could think of.

“I, um, made dinner.” You point to the table. “But it’s gone cold, I can heat it up. Don’t know if it will taste any good, though. Did you have any chance to eat something? I mean, if you ate dinner, it’s been hours and you’re probably hungry—”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I also made soup, so it’s easier on the stomach. You’re tired, right? Just eat some soup and then go to sleep. I’ll heat that up and there’s also tea in the pantry, supposed to help you sleep. Oh, I filled up the bathtub, I’ll go drain it, the water’s gone cold and you probably want to have a hot shower—”

He cuts you off again by blurting out your name. “Hey, hey, slow down.” His calloused hands come up to hold your shoulders and you let out a small whimper of surprise, your chin dropping to your chest. “I don’t want anything, I’ll just sleep.”

You shrug and escape from his hold, so he doesn’t ask you why you’re trembling like a leaf. “But shower…” you manage to make out and point to the direction of his room.

“Yes, I’ll drain the tub and shower, you go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” you say softly. He’s home, you repeat deliriously. He’s here, very much alive. The thought calms your nerves instantly.

He doesn’t turn on any of the lights while navigating his home in the dark. You crane your neck to watch his silhouette move to his room. He opts to turn on the bathroom light first. You listen to the water droplets as you put away the food you made for him in containers. He says something you can’t quite hear when he gets out of the shower.

“Did you say something, Leon?” you raise your voice slightly.

“Yeah, did you clean my room?”

“It was messy. Thought it’d be nice to see it tidy when you came back.”

He doesn’t reply right away and your head turns to his direction as if he can see you through the door.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to.”

You actually cleaned the whole house when he was away, not that he had the chance to see it.

You were aware from the very beginning that this was what you got yourself into. You and Leon never promised each other love. But why are you feeling like this now? Stupid question, really. Because things have changed, you’ve grown to love him and you’re afraid. You’re afraid that one day you’ll have to face the world without him by your side because he has become your anchor, holding you in place where you now call home. It’s nice having his warm hands on you, it’s nice coming home to him.

However, in moments like now it feels like you’re playing house, actors going their separate ways after the lights go out. It awfully feels like you’re standing in the middle of a dark stage, curtains closed so nobody can see what goes down behind the scenes.

You’re in front of his door, first aid kit in one hand, knocking. “Leon?” You know he’s not sleeping. He can’t sleep well after he comes back from his missions, his insomnia making it impossible for him.

The door cracks open and you slide past him before he can say anything, perching cross-legged on the side of his bed, placing the kit on your lap before propping his pillow against the bedpost so he can sit comfortably in front of you. “Let me have a look.” You pat on the bed. “And turn on the lamp, please.”

You can finally see him when he does. The first thing you see is the big purple bruise on his side because he’s only wearing his sweatpants. His hair is wet from the shower, hanging to his eyes, eyebags dark and prominent, one of his forearms is freshly bandaged. Despite all, he’s standing tall in front of you.

“They already patched me up,” he says, showing his bandage.

You take his hand and draw him near, making him sit on the bed with one leg dangling from the side. Half of his face is illuminated like this and you can see the cut on his jaw in its full glory. Your fingers begin to work quickly, cleaning the wound all the while he winces by closing his eyes. “Seems like they didn’t take a good look at you. What happened to your ribs?” you ask to distract him.

“Got kicked. They’re not broken.”

You put the band-aid on his jaw and search his eyes as they open. He blinks slowly at you, understanding that you want to hear more. “Hurts when I breathe but it should be gone in a few days, it’s not that bad.”

You take his unwrapped hand in yours, the skin of his knuckles is very red, it probably hurts when he flexes it. You grab the ice pack you remembered to bring with you and place it on top on his knuckles.

“Not there,” he mumbles. “Put in on my shoulder, it’s really sore.”

You place the pack on the shoulder he points. He tries to turn his head that way but his face contorts in pain and he gives up, exhaling a long sigh.

“Did you have them wrap it up?”

“No, can’t be bothered to rewrap it later.”

“That’s why you have me to do it for you,” you hum, adjusting the ice pack. You’re closer to him like this, able to smell his soap and shampoo from his body. You can make out the shape of his chapped lips and yours ache to kiss his pain away, except you are overheated with grievance.

His eyes bore into you, taking you in. There’s an unassuming hand on your bent knee, squeezing lightly. “Did I scare you?” he asks.

“You promised me,” you gripe to him, fumbling with your fingers on your lap after you place the first aid kit next to you. “You promised me that you’d let me know when you were back. Of course I was scared.”

His forehead falls onto your shoulder, damp strands of hair pressed to the side of your neck as the ice pack tumbles down his back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, honey,” he says breathily.

He’s only called you by your name all this time, so this is new. And stomach lurching. Your cheek knocks the side of his head with your startled reaction.

“I have no excuse,” he murmurs. His palm on your knee slides up, leaving a burning sensation as it goes along your thigh, bypassing your hips and finding place on the curve of your waist.

“It’s okay,” you squeak when you feel his thumb caressing your ribs through your t-shirt.

You don’t remember ever sitting down with him, drawing lines about the nature of your relationship, lines that both of you never meant to cross, because you didn’t. You didn’t discuss anything about boundaries because at the time you were getting married, you didn’t know him much. Both of you assumed that it would naturally develop, silent agreements to come.

It was manageable before, now it confuses you to the point of ripping hair from your own head. There were times where you didn’t think twice about giving him a friendly hug, a pat on the back, a reassuring squeeze to his knee but after getting into bed with him, every action was testing the waters.

It wasn’t even a bed; it was the couch in the living room where you had countless dinners and conversations, the heart of the home, if you will. It felt shameful afterwards as if it happened in an open space, because it was quick and devoid of any intimacy, but it was in the confines of your own quiet home still.

You want to go back to the time when you were friends, and not what this was supposed to be. You want to go back to the time when you didn’t know how it felt to have him like that, when you didn’t know his touch would be so tantalizing, his lips unbearably addicting, his warmth conquering.

Initially, you thought you’d cross any bridge regarding him when you came across it, but there weren’t any bridges around to reach him to begin with. You quickly realized that he had burned them before you, for everyone. So, you painstakingly built each and every one of them with your bare hands, desperate to get to him. And him shaking them felt immensely unfair, all your hard work threatened to fall.

Your hand on his chest pushes him away ever so slightly before his hand drops from your waist. He hisses softly yet the action hurts you more than it hurts him. He yields to your touch, back leaning on his propped-up pillow, waiting for you to gather the scatter of your thoughts patiently.

“Stop confusing me, Leon.”

“What do you mean?”

“What am I to you exactly?”

“You’re my wife,” he says. Obviously.

“So why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“We never guaranteed that it would.”

“Yeah, I know that. All this time I thought maybe we were doing better, now I don’t know Leon, you’re confusing me. Either stop giving me hope or just say it outright.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That I’m just a fuck buddy to you.”

His jaw ticks, lips curl in disdain. “How shallow do you think I am?”

“I know we never established any boundaries between each other but it’s gotten to a point where I don’t know how I should act around you.”

His face stays stagnant. “You can’t be serious. Your boundaries were set from the beginning. You never had a place for me in your heart.”

Time seems to stop for you in that dire moment, Leon’s blue eyes serving you a new wrench of dismay. “When did I give off that impression?”

“Our first anniversary,” he clarifies hoarsely. “We ate pizza on the couch, remember?”

You do, you even remember the Disney movie he had rented as a cheeky nod to time you two first flirted. The Hunchback of Notre Dame.

“I always wonder why you said yes to my proposal in the first place,” he said after taking a bite from his pizza slice. It had been a year since getting married, Hunnigan was the one to point out to him. Apparently, she was proud of herself due to the fact that she was the one to introduce you two.

“I thought of Cathy and what she would’ve said to me,” you said, watching the animated Quasimodo sing his heart out to the town below him.

“What would she have said?”

“That it is ridiculous and maybe I should say yes.”

“So, you thought of what Cathy would’ve said to you getting married but not your family?”

You turned your head to him, ready to get vulnerable. “Cathy was family to me.”

“I didn’t know you two were that close.”

“Yeah, we met when we were roommates back in college. She urged me to change majors and follow her path.”

“To become an agent?”

“No, she was the one who always wanted to be a special agent. I didn’t know what to do at first but somehow ended up working alongside her.”

“What were you studying before?”

“I was studying to become a nurse. Kind of in my sister’s path, she’s a doctor.”

He scratched his nape, looking ashamed. “I believe I never asked that before, sorry about that.”

You elbowed his side after taking a sip of your drink. “Yeah, you better be sorry for not knowing what your sister-in-law does for work.”

He rolled his eyes upon your teasing. “Were they supportive of you changing majors? Your family, I mean.”

“My family’s always been small. It’s just me and my mom and sister. Dad’s never been in the picture. He left when I was a few months old. My mom raised us herself. And yes, she would support anything I did. She loved Cathy because she would make me do things I’d never do myself.”

“Your mom sounds like a great person.”

“She was. She died four days before Cathy did.”

“I’m… sorry to hear that,” he said, much more ashamed than before. You didn’t blame him, the first year of your marriage flew by really fast, with him on duty most of it. Forget sitting down like this to talk, you rarely got any chance to see him.

“Yeah, their deaths being so close fucked me up really bad. We were on mission. My mom was living with my sister then because she was sick. My sister didn’t tell me her condition was even worse than before.”

“Why?”

“Mom knew we were working on something big and begged my sister not to tell me. She thought she’d see me after I was done with the mission. I had a whole fight with my sister about it. I felt betrayed.”

“I think I would, too, in that situation.”

“I was so fucking unprofessional after that. I couldn’t keep on helping Cathy properly. And she—”

“It isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, meeting your gaze in the space between you two on the couch.

“I’m tired of hearing that,” you huffed.

“None of that is on you. It’s the truth.”

“It’s not. I knew the situation was going bad. Cathy tried to make me believe it was not. Somebody else had to be transferred to take my place instead. I insisted but I had to be taken out. That’s when we lost connection to her.”

“How did you know it was going bad?”

“I could tell from her voice. I know her better than I know myself. I failed to get her help. I should have never listened to her.”

“But you couldn’t do that, could you? She clearly gave you wrong intel. You can’t send back-up until—”

“I could’ve made it seem like she requested back-up. That would’ve saved her, exterminated the mission, but saved her. I’d have faced the consequences of my actions sooner or later. If I did that and saved her, she’d be mad at me for years but who cares as long as she’s safe and sound?”

“I get it. I’d also have someone mad at me if it meant they’d be safe.”

“In the end, she died for nothing. The cult she was infiltrating dispersed after they killed her, all fled to different countries. It’s harder to track them down now. They’re everywhere.”

“You follow through with it? It would be impossible to track down each mission.”

“Why do you think I’m in the archives? I have access to mission reports. They don’t think it is bioweapon related, so sometimes they let me see them.”

Esmeralda was dancing along people’s whistles, captivating every man in the square.

“You said Cathy died for nothing but you actually don’t want that to be true.”

Fiddling with your fingers, you said, “Obviously.”

“You’re loyal,” he remarked. “I’m sure she would’ve loved to see her mission completed. Do you ever think of working as an analyst again?”

“Nope.”

From his expression you could tell he wanted an explanation, so you gave him one, “I don’t want to see people get hurt anymore. It’s a dangerous job, you know it. Why are you asking me?”

“No offense, but then why did you agree to marry me knowing I do the same job? If you’re scared of losing someone this much—it just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You sighed, having a hard time thinking where to even start. “You’re going to call me crazy.”

“I would never,” he said, half-jokingly.

“Okay, I really did think what Cathy would tell me to do. I always listened to her, the whole time we got to spend together. She told me what she wanted to do with her life, told me I looked depressed with what I was studying and maybe we should join an academy together. She was larger than life, lit up an entire room with her presence, never spoke ill of someone, liked to help people in any way she could. I’ve always been shy, so she went above and beyond to find me decent blind dates.”

“She sounds wonderful. She was also your matchmaker?”

“In a way, yes. Dragged me to parties with her so I could have some fun.” You gave Leon a smile, recalling Cathy and her antics in your mind, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Nothing sounds crazy so far,” he reassured you.

Finished with your pizza, you dusted off the crumbs into the box and lifted up your knees to sit cross-legged facing him. “I couldn’t keep someone interested in me for more than two dates.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he replied, his eyes traveling up and down.

“No, seriously. This one time, a guy left mid-date, told me he had a phone call, paid for the coffees and just left. I waited there for half an hour. It dawned on me when I couldn’t see his car outside. Didn’t call me after.”

Leon shrugged one shoulder. “His loss.”

You smacked his bicep playfully as a way of thanking him for his compliment. “I only went on these dates because Cathy thought it would be good for me. I had a few fights with my sister about Cathy and her influence on me. She thought I was like her puppet but I genuinely don’t think like that. I told you I knew Cathy like the back of my hand. It was the same for her. Never pushed me to do something I’d be uncomfortable with. Well, I’d feel awkward at times but it would be momentary, I’d learn so much in the long run.”

“That’s a very healthy way of looking at things. I’m still waiting for the part where you think I’d call you crazy.”

“I trusted her judgment because I knew she only wanted the best for me. She’d definitely try to set me up with you if we weren’t so busy all the time,” you said, lips curling into a roguish smile.

His eyebrows shot up, being brazen about it. “Oh, you’re saying I’d have her approval?”

Especially when you keep raking your hands through your hair like that, you wished to say. “Yes, you would.”

“Thank you, that means so much.”

“You didn’t even know her.”

“Well, she means so much to you, I feel honored that you think that way.”

A haze of grief washing over your heart, lungs expanding, you started, “I also… never mind.”

A comforting hand fell on you shoulder, shaking you slightly. “Now you have to say it, don’t leave me hangin'.”

“Here’s the crazy part,” you swallowed dryly. “Whenever I thought of my future, it was always with Cathy. I didn’t even think of getting married. I thought we’d retire together when the time came, she and Allison—her girlfriend—would live next to me. And if they ever had the chance, they’d marry and maybe have kids. I’d look after them like they were my own, be the best aunt. Isn’t it crazy, dreaming of looking after someone else’s kids and not yours? Sometimes I’d lay my head down and imagine myself in a little community, living next door to Cathy and her family, growing my own vegetable garden—though I don’t know the first thing about gardening but I’d learn! I would also grow pretty flowers and give them out to anyone who decided to come over. Go to the bakery in the morning, greet everyone on the way and grab my breakfast fresh out the oven. I’d get so fat! Eating baked goods every day, sounds like heaven to me.”

“Indeed.” With a fond smile on his face, he took of his hand from your shoulder and fully turned to you, bending one leg up on the cushions. “I don’t think I met an Allison at the funeral, was she there?”

“She was,” you said, remembering the painful conversation you had with her. “She arrived really early and left before anyone from work came.”

“What happened?” he asked, noticing you ripping skin off your fingers just like you had been doing during that day.

“I tried to talk to her. She told me I was a liar and walked out—” Leon interrupted your chain of thoughts by taking your hand, preventing you from damaging your fingers further. “I couldn’t keep my promise to her. It’s awful. I told her before the mission that it was going to be okay, we’d done this with Cathy many times and I’d make sure to keep her in one piece.”

Your other hand had a death grip on your knee, nails digging and leaving indents to keep yourself grounded. “They tortured Cathy while she was captive. She died because she refused to give them any information.”

Leon seemed like he didn’t want you to continue, placed your hand in his as though he was reading your palm and started to fidget with your gold wedding band on your ring finger. “Tell me more about that dream of yours. I bet you wouldn’t even install normal ceiling lights in your house. It’d just be little lamps everywhere.”

Giggling, you said, “Yeah! I’d be that auntie that collects little trinkets and displays them all around her house. I’d learn how to knit and make so many ugly sweaters for God knows anyone.”

“So, no partner living with you? Just you with your trinkets?”

“There’s so many types of love and I just didn’t see myself in a romantic one. It just happened that I never pictured myself alone. That’s it.”

His hands slipped away after your raw confession, broad back straightening, appearing tensed up. Yet again, you couldn’t make out what his expression meant.

Esmeralda was now singing a hymn, Quasimodo staring at her in admiration from the shadows.

“I talked so much today, now’s your turn. I feel embarrassed that you know my abysmal attempts at finding love. How about you, Leon? You got any embarrassing stories that you can tell?”

His answer was quick and mischievous, “Yeah, this one time this lady just got up and left me at the bar. In the middle of an argument.”

You pursed your lips and bumped on his knee on the cushions, restraining a laugh you know he’d get satisfaction out of. “Don’t piss me off, that wasn’t even a date.”

“I had a girlfriend when I was twenty-one, she broke up with me before I started working as a cop.”

“That’s so long ago and not that embarrassing if I’m being honest,” you sniffed at him.

“I already told you about how I thought I’d marry her. I really believed my first ever relationship would live to see its future.”

Offering him a new perspective, you explained, “Well, technically it did, it just wasn’t a bright one.”

“Pshh,” he scoffed, turning to the TV, stretching before bending his arms behind his head. “Wait—you’re telling me I’m the only long-term guy you had?”

His late light-bulb moment pulled a chuckle out of you. “Turning it back to me again, okay. No, I did date a guy for nearly one year. And before you ask, he said I worked too much and wasn’t fun.”

Leon’s face scrunching as if he just ate something sour, he blurted out, “Where do you find these types of guys? Did Cathy set you up with this asshole?”

“No, actually, I found him myself.”

“Is he the one who made you think you’re not fun to be around?”

You were left stumped, unable to think of any answer.

“What? If he is, I disagree with him.”

“You only say that because I go along with your corny jokes.”

“Yeah, that’s the only reason,” he chimed sarcastically.

Quasimodo was saving Esmeralda from the burning stake, the sign that the movie was about to end.

“Your dream,” he cleared his throat. “I could just picture it like a happy ending to a Disney movie. You know, they all have happy endings. Besides, I don’t think you’re insane for wanting a happy, peaceful life.”

“What’s insane about it is that I even imagined myself dying before Cathy. Getting buried before I got to bury her. I’ve never thought I’d live the day she wouldn’t, yet here I am… I wrote an entire script for the rest of my life in my mind, that’s why I spiraled down and down and down when it was not possible to play it out anymore. So, I stopped. It wasn’t healthy for me to continue obsessing over my ruined happy ending. I decided to live in the present. Write as I live on. Be more like Cathy, hopefully.”

There was little beer left in his can but he raised it anyway. “In the loving memory of Cathy Donovan, then.”

“I don’t have any drink left,” you gasped, lifting your can. “Cathy, I’m so sorry, you deserve the fruitiest of Martinis.” If Cathy was there, she would’ve laughed like a hyena, found it hysterical that you managed to call her fruity given the context.

After the honorary toast, Leon leaned back and intertwined his hands on his stomach, eyes fixed on the TV screen where Phoebus and Esmeralda were passionately kissing.

“The novel’s ending was not family friendly, I guess,” you mocked.

“I haven’t read it.”

 “If you’re planning on reading it, my lips are sealed.”

“Don’t know if I have the time. I don’t mind, tell me.”

“It’s painfully sad. Esmeralda gets hanged, Quasimodo pushes Frollo from the cathedral tower in grief and rage. That’s the moment he realizes he’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. He also refuses to let go of Esmeralda, starves himself holding on to her dead body in her grave. Years later, an excavation group finds their intertwined skeletons and when they try to separate them, Quasimodo’s bones crumble to dust.”

“Now that’s vile.”

Toss your dirty shoes in my washing machine heart Baby, bang it up inside I'm not wearing my usual lipstick I thought maybe we would kiss tonight

Baby, though I've closed my eyes I know who you pretend I am I know who you pretend I am

—Washing Machine Heart, Mitski

“How would I know I’d end up here?” you ask him, voice shaking. “We didn’t promise each other anything, so I didn’t have any hope.”

You want nothing more than to ask him about the teddy bear keychain he has in desk drawer, why he holds onto it, ask whether you should be relieved that it no longer has a key attached to it.

There is that gut feeling, clawing at your churning stomach, that tells you he has someone. Someone else who knows him better than you, who is a better match to him, who makes him happier.

Someone he loves.

“But we had sex, it made me question everything and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both lonely and weren’t thinking straight. You acted like it didn’t change anything, it almost made me go crazy. Please say something so I can finally understand, Leon,” you cry out.

“I don’t regret it,” he declares. “I don’t regret what we did. And I know how we started this marriage, I assumed it would always be the same after you told me your feelings.”  

“I admit I’m hard to be with.” Your head hangs to the side, brows furrowed. “It’s hard for me to trust someone as much as I trusted Cathy. I’m sorry it took two years for us to be candid with each other. I used to be laidback about who I slept around with before. Now, I don’t know, I think twice about how I should touch you, talk to you. I used to think romantic love was not for me, so I wasn’t worried when you proposed because you didn’t expect it. I thought it wasn’t for people like us.”

“But you are capable of love,” he emphasized. “I know you are. You’re so good to me all the time. You stay up all night worrying when I’m not home, cook food for me despite your hatred for it, remember the smallest things and help me out, talk to me when I can’t sleep. I can’t even repay you for any of it and you still continue to be good to me. See, you’re speaking in a way that’s making me think there’s a chance that you love me and I still can’t say it back.”

Your silent tears unsettle him, this is the first time you let him see you cry. He has heard it before, the soft sobs and small chokes at night when you didn’t know he was awake.

You sniffle, “I know you’re capable of it, too, Leon. If the reason you can’t say it back to me is what I think it is, you definitely are.”

You quickly wipe your tears with the back of your hand when he asks, “What do you mean?”

“There is someone, right? You love them.”

His silence speaks volumes and it becomes your acceptance.

“Don’t let this thing between us hamper it, okay? I’m fine with it. To be honest, I didn’t expect you to keep up the faithful husband act.”

“Jesus,” he howls. “Just how terrible do you think I am? This thing between us is our fucking marriage. Not some situationship. Although I can’t make you think otherwise because you refuse to. I’m only gonna say this once, okay? I respect you enough to not sleep around behind your back.”

“Thank you, Leon, but I’m saying it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You take both of his hands, wanting to remember the feel of him. “You love someone else and it’s okay. You’re better off with them. Hopefully they’re better at love than I am.”

You take off your ring and place it in your palm, caressing it. “I know I probably shouldn’t be asking for this but I got so used to the weight of it on my finger. Can I have it as a keepsake?”

He grips your wrist tightly, grimacing. “What are you doing?”

“This is me letting you go.”

“No.” He shakes his head, voice thick. The way he places the ring on your finger again is a wretched overcompensation for not doing it before. You two didn’t have rings at the wedding and you were the one to place it on your own finger after purchasing them. “You’re running away,” he speaks in a hoarse croak. “Where will you go this time, hm?”

“I’ll resign and move close to my sister.”

His palms are cupping your jaw, fingertips in your hair. Him closing his eyes and pressing his forehead against yours is a way of saying I can love you if you give me time, I know I can.

“Stay,” he whispers, narrowing your whole world down to his warmth and you shudder from it. “Just tell me what you need.”

I need you to love me more, love enough to fill me up till there’s no crack left for me to write happy ever afters that will never come true. I need you to fill me full up, love enough to drown it out. Drown me out.

“Kiss me.”

“That I can do, honey.”

You know perfectly well that you’re selfish for wanting him like this. However, you yearn for the still of his hands on you, the irresistible feel of his skin on yours.

A kiss is placed on your temple, another one on your damp cheekbone, another on your jaw. Your eyes are closed the whole time he moves slow with his kisses. He grazes his nose beneath your ear, bringing you close to the brink of tears again. His hot breath is licking the other side of your face after, pecking the corner of your mouth.

“Scoot,” he says before gripping your waist and tipping you towards his torso. “My back is killing me like this.”

You’re afraid of hurting him with your weight but he insists, pulling you and placing you on his lap, getting you to straddle him, your thighs encasing his on either side. Your face a few inches above his, he tips his head back and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You can see a gash on his shoulder that disappears down his back which you didn’t notice before and you become aware once again that this isn’t the right moment to ask him for this.

“Leon—”

He can tell you’re about to get off him and he shuts you up by pulling you in a crushing kiss, pressing your chest to his with arms around your back so you won’t get away. “Stay here, don’t run away from me,” he says between labored breaths. His fingertips dance on your sides, making the hair on the back of your neck stand. He can probably feel your heart thumping crazy against his chest.

You caress the indent on his chin with your pointer finger, leaning down to kiss it. Leon lets out a delicious sigh, hands feeling up the sides of your thighs.

“Why did you kiss me at the wedding? There was no one to see,” you finally ask.

He lifts an eyebrow, eyes flicking to the side trying to remember it. “The officiant was there. And the photographer.”

You nod and his lips are on yours again, tender this time. He opts to place quick kisses over and over again when he’s done being gentle. A chuckle escapes you when his nose bumps yours.

Fingers drifting under your shirt, he scratches your back up and down with his blunt nails. Any inch of skin he comes across, he kisses. Earlobe, jaw, neck, shoulder peeking through shirt. One hand splaying his fingers on your back, middle finger in line with your spine, right between your shoulder blades, the other one comes up front, lifting the front hem of your shirt. “Take this off.”

He doesn’t move the hand on your back when you’re taking it off, eyes dropping down to meet the new exposed skin. But you feel too naked, even though he’s wearing the same amount of clothes as you. You hug him around his neck, careful not to hurt him, bare chests pressed together.

He clasps the tops of your arms, biting the inside of one bicep.

“Ouch.” You retreat. “Why did you do that?”

“Let me see you.” He tips you backwards after his hand comes up to your nape, your butt slides on his lap, making you sit right on his crotch. He lets out a content hum, not embarrassed of his half hard erection. You cling to his biceps although his hand on the back of your neck is securing you in place.

A kiss is planted to the base of your throat and then to each collarbone. The hand on the front cups the underside of your breast, goosebumps rising on your skin. A wet kiss on the valley of your breasts, his breath cooling it. A low moan from you when he takes a stiff nipple in his hot mouth, finally giving it some attention. He twirls his tongue around it, teasing, before licking it right.

Your hips move involuntarily, rubbing against him through clothes all the while he sucks, kisses, grazes teeth. A jolt of electricity travels down to your core when he switches sides, underwear clinging to your sticky folds. You keen into him, pushing your chest out when he begins to suck a bruise under your breast. Your fingers dig into his scalp, tugging on his damp strands.

You discern his knitted brows and inclined back before tapping his shoulder. “Leon, stop.”

He halts the moment he hears you. The sight of a string of spit connecting his lips to your chest is obscene. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hurting. You should lay down,” you say while standing up.

His eyes never leaving you, he gets off the bed as well. He seizes you under your arms, picking you up with ease. “See, honey? I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.” He doesn’t let you protest and nips at your bottom lip before sloppily kissing you, tongue claiming every crevice of your mouth.

“No, put me down!” you wail, kicking your feet in the air.

“Okay, okay,” he grins, setting you down on the floor. Your heated cheeks amusing him, he takes your hand and places it on the waistband of his sweatpants. “This is the only thing you need to worry about.”

You decide to be daring and slide your hand down, palming him through layers of clothing. “Fuck,” he huffs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against yours, big hands pawing at your backside, fondling your ass. Your hand slips past his briefs, touching him without any barriers.

“Oh, just like that,” he encourages you when you pick up a pace. His abs tightening, it doesn’t take long for him to fully get hard. “Ah, wait—”

“Hm?” You look up at him, just holding him in your palm.

“Need to get a condom, be right back.” He squeezes your ass one last time. “You better take everything off,” he teases before stepping away to get to the bathroom.

Second thoughts come rushing to your mind the time he’s undressing and grabbing a condom in the bathroom. Maybe, you shouldn’t do this. It’s only going to make it harder for the both of you. You admitted loving him and he wasn’t able to say it back. But he told you to stay, he needs you, wants what you’re able to give him. And you desperately need to give him all you have, mind and body, even if it means for a short time.

Because you know you will never be able to love like this again.

Your thoughts are interrupted when a packet of condom is thrown on the bed in front of you, hands gathering your hair on one shoulder to return messy kisses to your neck from the back.

Your back meets his pecs, his erection snug between your bare ass cheeks, you sigh softly when his fingers find their way to your clit, making your spine tingle. You hold on to his forearm, clawing at his veins as he gathers your wetness from your entrance, back to circling your bundle of nerves with now soaked fingers. His bandaged hand urges you to spread your legs more before finding place on your throat. He ruts his hips against your ass, breathing loudly while you whine out incoherent sounds.

He groans your name, drawing your attention up to his scrunched face. “You’re so good to me.”

“Leon,” you whimper as he drags two fingers all the way along your slit, pumping them inside. The way you stretch around his fingers distracts him from the rhythm of his hips, making him still. But you crave the friction, arch back your own hips to get him to move again. Your hand winds around and finds his aching hard dick, thumb stroking the precum all over his angry red tip. Your head rolls back over his shoulder and you want nothing more than to properly see.

“Leon, I’m close,” you moan and push his hand away. “I want to see you.”

“Anything you want, honey,” he pants in your ear, tip of his tongue tracing the shell of it.

You crawl to the middle of the bed, endowing him the sight of your glistening slit before laying down on your back, waiting for him to get on top of you. He parts your legs, taking a good look before smearing his tip on your folds, a mix of your wetness and his precum making it extra slippery.

“Please,” you manage to make out, one arm across your chest, another resting on his shoulder.

He rips your arm from your chest and pulls both your wrists above your head. “I said let me see you.”  

He doesn’t let you fuss, fucking up his cock against your clit, allowing himself the bare feel of you for a little while.

He kisses your pout away before retreating to roll the condom on. You hiss as his tip breaches your entrance, legs trying to close on instinct, but he’s laying between them. He gets you used to the feel of him inside before you nod for him to move, slowly at first. Once your back arches and your hips shift, he gets the message to piston his hips faster.

He searches for the right pace just by examining you, what your face does when he tries something new, how your back arches, by the sounds you make. Not too fast, not too slow, he eventually finds an angle you particularly like.

“Too good for me,” he chants whilst thrusting, intertwining his fingers with yours above your head. You notice the absence of his ring but you don’t worry about it because you know he leaves it on his desk when he’s away for a mission, not wanting to lose it.

Your legs hug him around his waist, heels pressing him into you deeper. “Yes, yes, yes…” You keep singing his name when you feel it building up inside.

“Fuck, I’m not gonna last long,” he grunts, listening to the slaps of skin and your frantic cries of pleasure.

“Good ‘cause I’m so close.”

He takes that as a challenge, making sure you reach your high before him. He watches as you do, walls clenching down on his length, lips chasing his.

He’s cooing in your ear between your gasps, coaxing your bliss out of you. “I know, honey, I gotcha. You can let go.”

Your mouth opening in a silent moan as your orgasm ripples through you, hands trembling in his hold, legs trying to shut, your entire body quivering as you ride it out.

Irregular thrusts of his hips bouncing your breasts in front of him, he nestles his face between them, breathing in your scent. He noses the blossoming mark he left under there and moves slow, dragging it out as much as possible.

He sinks boneless on you, his weight feeling comforting rather than crushing. You embrace him as he softens out of you, leaving you feeling empty. He peels the condom off and lays on you for a while, head between your ribs, trying to catch his breath. You wipe away sweat from his temple, frowning.

“You’ll have to hop in the shower again.”

“Give me a few minutes,” he says, voice muffled and nasal. “And you’re coming with me, too.”

“Leon!” you shriek, playfully slapping his twitching bicep. “You shouldn’t tire yourself more.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. I was gonna ask you to wash my back.”

After a few minutes, you drag him in the shower, helping him soap his back. He stands under the hot rain when you’re cleaning yourself with his body wash, eyes and hands wandering, groping here and there. You smack his naughty hands each time, can’t help but giggle. However, he’s tired and sleepy, so he’s only playing.

You offer to change his sheets but he insists on doing it in the morning and tugs your arm to your room, preferring to sleep in your clean sheets. He nearly falls asleep as you blow-dry your hair, waiting for you in the bed.

As soon as you’re snuggled up to him, he tucks you to his chest, chin on your forehead. Soft sighs tickle the crown of your hair.

“Can I ask you a question?” he murmurs, barely audible.

Your pointer finger stops drawing circles on his pectoral muscle. “Mhm?”

“After your mom and Cathy passed away, how did you survive? There has to be a reason.”

“I actually planned to end it all after both funerals. I told myself to just get past that week. It’ll all be over in a week. But there’s my sister. She came with me to help with Cathy’s funeral. Forced me to eat anything she could cook while I lived on autopilot. She was washing my hair in the sink when I realized I can’t leave her behind. It’s just not fair. She has a wonderful husband but a husband doesn’t mean forever— I mean, look at what my mother got. A deadbeat husband who left her with two little kids. My sister doesn’t have any kids. Worst case scenario, her husband leaves her and—”

He retracts abruptly to search your face, hand on your cheek to steer you to him. “So, you wrote a script again. With a sad ending.”

“My sister is my only family left. I don’t want her to live unhappily.”

“Hey, I’m your family, too. Why are you talking like I’m not here?” He presses a long, soothing kiss to your lips. His fingers tip your chin up. “Look at me. What do you have in that mind of yours? What kind of script do you have for us?”

You lie. “I don’t have one.”

He smiles. “Good. Because we’ll write one as we go on.”

(a/n: a very short part 2 will be posted here in a few days, keep an eye out for that. ty for reading!) >> read PART II.

[megalony]

Use Your Voice

Okay, this is my first time posting a Charles Xavier (X-Men) imagine, requested by the lovely @missdreamofendless I hope you will all like it, please let me know what you think.

(I've set this in the middle of X-Men First Class)

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii

Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) wants to use her mutation for good and show people that mutants aren't to be feared. But it isn't so easy when she remembers all the times her mutation was used for bad when she was taken advantage of.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft, lulling smile fluttered across (Y/n)'s lips when she felt a familiar pair of hands on her shoulders.

She tilted her head back on the sofa and grinned up at Charles as he stood behind the sofa, his thumbs rubbing circles into the back of her shoulders. She loved the curve of his lips and how his smile made his nose scrunch up as he looked down at her. And those baby blue eyes looked unusually bright tonight. Normally those eyes would be pastel and cloudy, only when Charles was deeply moved or shedding tears would his eyes go dark sienna.

She reached her hand up to hold his wrist and gave a light squeeze while Charles leaned down to peck her temple.

(Y/n) was sure she heard him mumble "Hi," but she wasn't sure if the word passed his lips or simply travelled from his mind through to hers. Either way, her smile conveyed that she had heard him.

Her eyes followed him when he eventually let go and walked past the sofa towards the small table set up in the window bay at the back of the room. The curtains were drawn, the fire was lit and lamps were dotted around the room to give an ambient glow and a cosy atmosphere.

There was a chess board laid out on the table where Erik was patiently waiting for his opponent to sit down and start the game.

(Y/n) liked how classy yet laid back the pair of them looked over there. Erik had one leg crossed over the other and one hand slowly rubbing back and forth over his chin like he was already in the middle of a game he was trying hard not to lose. And his other hand was quietly tapping out a repetitive rhythm against the rim of the table.

Whereas when Charles sat down opposite him, he took a different stance. He sat forward, knees parted to the sides, his left arm folded across the table while his right hand swirled over the top of the chess board, debating what piece to move first.

They looked like they should have been in a reneisance painting. And when Charles looked in her direction and flashed that cocky smile, (Y/n) guessed he'd heard that thought. Her thought process must have been loud for him to hear because Charles always made a point not to go snooping in anyone's mind without permission. He thought it rude and impertinent.

(Y/n) turned her attention back to the book on her lap she had been trying in vain to concentrate on.

She managed to read a page or two before eventually giving up when Raven turned the tv on low and sat down next to her on the sofa.

The others weren't far behind.

They had all been at the mansion for a while now and they were all doing separate training to improve their mutations and build up resistance. They didn't want to fight, but at the same time they had to be prepared for anything. And their mutations needed to be controlled and perfected, none of them had mastered their powers yet, not even Charles or Erik.

Erik didn't know how to harness his strength and churn it into his mutation. Charles was finding out day by day just how much control he could gather and how far his powers spread. Raven needed to stop focusing so much on blending in and perfect the ability to split her concentration without losing whatever image she had transformed into.

The rest of them were younger, they had little grip on their powers and needed to harness them. Alex was one of the worst for his powers, he was very out of touch with his mutation and with him having a dangerous one, the effects could be disastrous.

Closing her book, (Y/n) laid it down on the coffee table and curled her legs up beneath her. She wound her arms around her middle and burrowed into the side of the sofa while she watched the others move round.

Alex flopped down in the armchair nearest to the fire while Hank sat somewhat formally in the other chair. He sat with his back straight and his hands clasped tightly on his lap like he was sitting for an interview. And Sean plonked himself down on the carpet in between both armchairs so he could still be within their little friendship circle near the fireplace.

Tilting her head back, (Y/n) peeked over the back of the sofa towards the two men at the back playing chess. She loved the look of concentration on Charles's face and it was amusing how Erik's brows furrowed down when he was trying to calculate and think ahead of the next moves.

She zoned out for a little while, drifting between watching the game and listening to the news playing quietly in the background on the tv.

"…At least looking at the rest of you, no one knows you're different."

(Y/n) didn't catch the first part of the conversation, but she caught the last part of Hank's words. That statement sliced through her. The way Hank looked down at his hands as he spoke, the way he kept his voice quiet and passive as not to cause an argument between any of them. But he couldn't keep out the hint of envy from his tone.

It wasn't their fault.

(Y/n) hated meeting other mutants whose powers were clearly on display. Those who had different coloured eyes or had an entirely different skin colour, like Raven. Those with missing fingers or enlarged feet like Hank or who had wild hair or pointed teeth.

It wasn't (Y/n) or Charles or Erik's fault that their powers didn't show. They didn't even look any different when they used their powers whereas Alex could pass for 'normal' until he used his powers.

They couldn't control nature or what their mutations were or what they did to them. It was okay for Hank or Raven to sit there and and say that the world looked at them differently because they were visibly outcasts, but no one chose their mutations.

"Your mutation is harmless though, if Alex loses concentration we're all fried." Raven's words hung in the air along with the playful tone and the smirk on her face.

She nudged (Y/n)'s shoulder with a wide grin before she tangled her hand in her long blonde locks and leaned back into the sofa like she was posing for a portrait painting. (Y/n) always found it a little unnerving that Raven worried about her mutation. She could look like anyone she wanted to be, she had a gift people only dreamed about. She could have whatever body she wanted and even when she was in her true form, she was still stunning.

Nobody else got that pleasure, there was only so much people could do to change their appearance.

(Y/n) shuffled forward to reach for her drink that had been long forgotten on the coffee table, but her eyes locked with Hank when he leaned forward towards her. His hands stayed interlocked on his lap but he finally broke the straight composure and slouched forward with his elbows on his thighs.

"So um, your, your mutation is similar to Charles, right?" Hank's words were slow and calculated and clearly directed towards (Y/n).

They had all given brief introductions when they met a few weeks ago and they each said what their mutations were, but (Y/n) hadn't given a visual representation like the others. She didn't want to show off or let them see what she could do. The only two people who had seen her mutation at work were Charles and Erik.

"Oh, not really." (Y/n) glanced her eyes over her shoulder to the boys at the back. She could see Erik sneaking glances in their direction, clearly trying to keep track of his game but also pay interest into their conversation.

Charles didn't spare them a glance. He had mastered listening to voices and concentrating on tasks a long time ago. And he could keep check of (Y/n)'s thoughts since they were becoming louder and louder. His expression was calm and composed but his mind was intently focused, ready to chip into the conversation if necessary.

"I'm not that powerful, I can only give commands, and everyone is aware of what I'm doing, even if they can't stop me."

Sometimes (Y/n)'s mutation felt pointless.

She was a Siren. Her voice was her weapon, she could give people commands, tell them whatever she wanted them to do and they were compelled to do it. But everyone knew they were being controlled, they knew she was forcing their hand even if they couldn't help but obey her command.

Charles was different, he had the more varied, skilled mutation. He could control people, bend them to his will and they didn't know they were being controlled. He could make them forget they had been under his influence. He could make hundreds of people pause in the middle of a restaurant or a city. He could get people to look away or move or follow him. Charles could read their thoughts and get in their heads and see things through their eyes.

(Y/n) couldn't do any of that. She couldn't slip into people's minds, all she could do was hold their control and willpower for a while and make them do whatever she asked of them.

She couldn't give people thoughts or see their thoughts, she couldn't look into their minds or do any snooping or any damage.

"But you could kill someone, couldn't you?"

"I- I've never-"

(Y/n) began to shake her head as the cold fingers of dread clutched around her lungs and started to squeeze.

She had never killed anyone. She had never forced anyone to kill themselves or to commit murder on someone. (Y/n) didn't know if that was possible. She didn't know if she had that much influence. Part of her always hoped that if she ever had to give that command, that the person would have enough willpower to stop her. (Y/n) didn't want to be a murderer or be the reason someone was labelled a murderer.

How fair would that be if she got someone else to commit such an act on her behalf? She would be in control, but they would be physically committing the crime.

"Alex, we're not here to kill, and using our mutations to kill doesn't help our cause." Charles's voice cut through the air like a knife. His tone was cold, his words were firm and his expression was dark.

He was ending that topic before it begun.

They weren't here to kill, they didn't want to kill anyone for their cause and it would only give the humans more advantage and leverage over them. It didn't matter if their mutations could kill. All of them could at some point. Charles had enough power and control to kill many people, all at once. Erik could manipulate bullets. Raven could shape shift into someone else and commit a crime and get away with it.

Alex could definitely cause enough damage to kill someone, and if Sean screamed with a loud enough soundwave, he might just kill someone. And (Y/n) might have the capability to force someone's hand into murder. It was all possible, but it wasn't going to happen.

"How many people can you control at once?" Sean changed the subject, but the conversation was still steered onto (Y/n) and she didn't like it.

She didn't like being the centre of attention and her mutation wasn't one she was proud of. Who could be proud of having the ability to control other people?

It was manipulative.

(Y/n) looked back over her shoulder when she sensed something behind her and she bit her lip when she caught Charles wincing. He heard that last thought.

He didn't think it was manipulative. Charles thought it was a necessary gift. What if someone was going to hurt another person or hurt themselves? What if people needed to get to safety or they were too afraid to do something that was necessary? What if someone needed to make a call but didn't have the nerve?

(Y/n) could help them all, she could tell them what to do in those situations or tell them to walk to safety or to put a weapon down or let people go. There was so much good she could do, but all she could see was the bad that could happen from her mutation.

"Three." (Y/n) finally answered with a weak smile. She had been practicing, but three people seemed her maximum capacity for now. It was hard enough telling one person what to do without having to focus on splitting her attention and controlling other people to her will.

"What if I-"

"Sean, unless you want another flying lesson with Erik, do not ask that question."

Charles lifted his right hand to his temple and started to rub his fingers along the side of his head. He was getting a headache. There may not be many people here in the mansion, but all their thoughts were becoming louder and it was getting harder and harder not to listen to them.

There was something authorative in Charles's voice, something demanding and powerful enough to end the conversation then and there. Added with the fact that he didn't look away from the chess board, it made Sean shrink down in his seat on the floor and look towards his feet.

(Y/n) managed a small grin to herself when she heard Charles murmur "Checkmate."

She reached forward for her glass and got up, shaking it to tell them she was going for a refill and excusing herself from this conversation. They could all exchange stories and talk about their mutations without her, it would go smoother because the rest of them were open about their abilities.

On a second thought, she turned to the right and walked towards where the boys were playing their game in the window. She approached slowly, watching the way Erik's lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes looked colder now he had lost. He didn't like losing, but he managed to hide it somewhat well.

While Erik started to line the pieces back up in order on the board, (Y/n) reached across for the empty glass beside Charles.

Her lips curved into a smile and she felt her nerves settling down when his arm looped around her waist and he reeled her into his side so her knees were nudging against his thigh.

His hand started to glide up and down her back and his lips curved into a soft grin when (Y/n) leaned over to kiss the top of his head.

"Want another drink?"

"Please." Charles trailed his fingertips down her waist, over her hip and across the back of her thigh until (Y/n) eventually pulled out of his embrace and headed into the kitchen.

She hummed quietly as she set about making a drink, ensuring to keep her voice quiet and her tune random. Singing was a trigger for her mutation and although it didn't give people any commands or force them to do anything, it drew people closer to (Y/n). Her voice could put them under a trance and have people crowd round her, unsure what they wanted, just knowing they had to be close to her.

She poured a whiskey for Charles and made herself a drink, but she paused when heavy footsteps caught her attention.

It was only Alex.

He got himself a drink from the fridge, but instead of leaving the kitchen, he leaned his arms on the counter beside (Y/n). Arching his back out as he looked up at her with one raised brow.

"What's that look for?"

"Just that… you have such a good power."

(Y/n) let out a quiet huff with a faded, sad smile on her lips. "Do you know the myths about sirens? Creatures of the sea, they use their songs to lure sailors to their deaths. My power means I have to control people, it's not nice, you know."

The history behind her powers was dark. Sirens were depicted to be ravenous, dark creatures who sought out sailors on the sea and gave them bad luck. They would sing to the sailors and drag them overboard, they would make them crash their vessels and drown in the sea.

(Y/n) didn't like having to control people, she would much rather have an ability where the only control she had was over herself.

"People cry out for any sense of power, they would kill for the kind of power you have. Own it. You could do so much with it."

"Oh yeah, like what?" (Y/n) sank her teeth down into her lower lip and snook a glance behind Alex. She wouldn't mind if Charles or Erik came in and swiftly changed the conversation. She didn't like where this was going.

"Think about it, you could control so much. You could make them pass laws for us, make the President resign, put mutants in control. Make us superior. If you just take control. You and Charles could be unstoppable."

A subtle tremor coursed down (Y/n)'s spine and had her arms coiling into her chest.

She didn't like those words. Those few little words brought back bad memories. She could still hear that snide tone as if he were standing behind her now, whispering in her ear. He had always used her mutation to his advantage.

If you just take control, we can have everything we need.

We wouldn't be caught up in this mess if you controlled it properly.

Tell him. Tell him. You should have told him to pull the trigger. You're too weak.

"Unstoppable," (Y/n) murmured under her breath, a faraway look in her eyes as she turned and walked out of the kitchen without another word.

She didn't want to be unstoppable. She didn't want to be in control or in the limelight. (Y/n) didn't want to lead a crusade or become a marytr for the cause, and she certainly didn't want to be used as a pawn in a game. She had done that enough in the past.

***

It was hard for Charles to sleep when there were a lot of people around him. He grew up listening to his parent's thoughts and trying his best not to delve into Raven's whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The few servants they had slept in the rooms in the attic, so their thoughts were distant and never run rampid while they were sleeping.

Having the mansion lively with people meant Charles had to concentrate so he didn't slip into their thoughts at night. He didn't want to intrude and his concentration always wavered when he was trying to sleep.

The only saving grace he had was that (Y/n) never minded if his mind went wandering into hers during the night. She understood it was hard to keep concentration and she knew Charles meant no harm. She was the one sleeping next to him in his bed, the least she could do was understand if he happened to hear her thoughts when they were so close to his own.

Sometimes when he was sleeping and people were around, his dreams ended up morphing with theirs. Or their thoughts shaped his dreams and morphed his nightmares into something strange.

Tonight was a little different to that.

A frown set into Charles's previously slack expression and he flopped a hand over his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His fingertips rubbed into his temple and the base of his hand nudged against his eyes that were squinting even though they were closed.

His mind was aching. He didn't realise until he tried to open his eyes that his head felt like it was pounding and vibrating.

He pushed up on his elbows and looked around the room. Everything was draped in darkness, it was nowhere near morning and therefore not time to think about getting up.

Do it! I don't want to- You have to!

Those three little words caused Charles to quiver. His knees jolted up, his body propelled forward so he was sitting up in bed and his hand cradled the side of his temple again. God, those words were screaming around in his head and he found himself wanting to do something. He wasn't sure what he wanted to do, but there was a deep rooted sense of compulsion in the forefront of his mind.

(Y/n). His eyes darted to the left and squinted to adjust to the darkness as he tried to look down at his partner laid beside him.

She was laid on her side facing Charles, with her knees coiled up to her stomach and her arms pressing so tightly into her chest he was surprised she was able to breathe. Her arms were writhing from side to side and Charles could see her lips moving like she was trying to whisper something in her sleep.

Twisting to lean on his left elbow, Charles carefully reached his hand out and feathered his fingers over (Y/n)'s temple.

His lips pursed and his nose scrunched up as he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. He didn't want to intrude or invade, but he could tell she was having some sort of nightmare and he didn't want her to start lashing out or using her mutation in her sleep. The last thing they needed was everyone in the mansion waking up and knowing (Y/n) was experiencing nightmares.

I don't want to.

You don't have to, not anymore. It's okay, you need to wake up now.

Charles's voice was like a soft serenading song, overriding the memories acting out in her mind and the voices that were trying to get louder and louder. They ceased to exist when Charles slipped into her mind.

(Y/n) woke with a start, gasping and blinking rapidly. Her hand shot up to grip Charles's wrist, her nails scratching into his skin deep enough to create crescent moons and start to draw flecks of blood. Her eyes darted from left to right, looking for signs, for objects and people, for a hint to tell her whether this was another nightmare or if this was real.

She found a pair of deep sienna eyes burning into hers with an intensity she hadn't seen before. Those eyes captured (Y/n)'s full attention and a rush of heat blossomed all across her skin when she felt his hand glide down to cup her cheek. His thumb grazed across her cheekbone just beneath her eye and after a few seconds, (Y/n) let her eyes dart down to look at his lips.

Those ruby red lips were curved up into a soft, melting smile that did wonders for her shattered nerves.

"I'm sorry,"

"You don't need to be."

(Y/n) let herself lean into his touch while he rested his weight on his elbow, leaning over her. His thumb continued to glide across her skin and (Y/n) wasn't quite sure what he was looking at, but the calmness in his eyes was overwhelming. She couldn't help but shiver when he reached out to brush a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Did you see?" Her voice was quiet and the air of defeat woven into her tone made Charles frown.

He took a few seconds to find the right words and took a deep breath, tilting his head to the left with narrowed eyes.

"I heard." His thumb glided along her chin and up her jaw while he moved his other hand to prop his head up and wove his fingers into his hair. "I hear that voice a lot, when you're dreaming… is that him?"

Charles didn't like to ask. He never liked to intrude. The few people growing up who knew of his mutation all became wary of him. They didn't want him close by, they always feared he was peering into their thoughts, prodding around in their memories and finding out their darkest fears. The funny thing was, when they had all these worries, their thoughts became louder and amplified in Charles's mind rather than when they just acted normal around him.

He never wanted to snoop or look around in anyone's mind unless they told him it was okay, but more so with (Y/n). They were together, they knew things about each other that no one else did. But Charles wanted to know that information through conversation and trust, not by peering into her thoughts and delving into her mind.

But he couldn't help it sometimes when (Y/n)'s thoughts or her nightmares got loud. He heard that voice a lot when she got lost in memories or had bad nights and Charles never wanted to pry, but it didn't take a genius to work out who that dark, illusive figure was from (Y/n)'s past.

A quiet hum left (Y/n)'s lips and she nodded her head, shuffling forward until she could tuck her face into his chest.

She felt him take a deep breath and for a moment, she feared he was going to sit up or turn away. But instead, Charles dropped his head back onto the pillow and twisted so he was lying on his back again. His left arm slid beneath (Y/n)'s neck to drape around the back of her shoulders.

She could feel his fingers feathering across her back over the top of her night shirt. Soft patterns were drawn onto her skin while she shuffled closer to rest her cheek on his chest and drape her arm up so her hand could curl around his shoulder.

"Your powers aren't bad, love." He whispered softly against the top of her head. "No mutation is bad, not if it's used in the right way, for the right reasons."

"I didn't use mine for the right reasons." (Y/n) closed her eyes and burrowed her face deeper into his chest to fight off the threat of tears.

It had been a while ago, long enough now that (Y/n) hoped to forget. She wanted her life to be better. She wanted meeting Charles and Erik to be the turning point, the better point where she could use her mutation for the right reasons. She wanted to help people and to show them that no mutant was dangerous or deserved to be treated this way.

But (Y/n) hadn't always used her powers for good, not when her ex had been around, anyway.

"You didn't have a choice, that's different."

It didn't feel different. It felt like (Y/n) had done something increadibly wrong. She could still remember the look on her ex's face when she mistakingly trusted him to see her mutation. He had seen something valuable, something he could use. Not something to be nurtured and harnessed and used for good.

He was always pushing (Y/n) to use her powers. Telling her to make people look the other way. To make them give her things or do his bidding for him. He made her help him steal things and take what he wanted and to make people fear him.

She could still hear his voice in her head all those times she tried to say no, all those times she tried to leave or tell him her powers weren't a weapon or something to threaten people with.

Just because you don't look like a mutant doesn't mean you're safe. I know what you are, and I know what they'll do to you if they find out, so you need to use your voice and listen to me.

(Y/n) didn't realise how snide and gruelling that voice sounded in her head until she felt Charles wince beneath her.

"You know you're safe here, don't you? You're safe with me." Those words caused (Y/n) to shiver and her lips broadened into a smile that morphed when she kissed his bare chest.

"I know."

"We can't change the past, love, but the future isn't written yet."

Charles might not be able to change what had happened to (Y/n) in the past, but he could try his best to help her come to terms with those memories and nightmares. He could push them to the back of her mind if she asked him to.

And no part of their future was written yet. The past was set in stone, but the future was a clear slate, ready to be inscribed. They could do whatever they liked, they could use their gifts in whatever manner they chose, and there was no one here would be able to tell (Y/n) how to use her power. No one could force her to use it for the wrong reasons if she didn't want to.

Here, now, (Y/n) was the only one who could wield her power and choose what to do with it. No one was going to threaten or manipulate her or force her hand.

He wouldn't let them.

[gadco]

New in my #etsy shop: #Vintage Figural #Table #Desk #Lamp Bronzed Patinated Spelter Boy Red #Glass #Globe on Resin Base by A. de #Ranieri #metal #decorative #sculptural #unusual #jugendstilstyle https://etsy.me/3Sm7RqA https://www.instagram.com/p/CjGDatlITMy/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[lnfours]

lando is definitely the type to soften his voice around bestfriend!reader that hes totally in love with. and him and reader dont see it at all, but everyone else does. and he basically treats her like theyre dating except without the kisses. and max is fed up with the two bc everytime lando sees her, he texts max "shes so pretty i wanna kiss her all over" - 🍒anon

anon... did you know that friends to lovers is my favorite trope like... ever?? fear not, the friends to lovers connoisseur is back!!! another one where i got carried away 😅

requests are open!

the small get-together at max’s was the highlight of the night, everyone joined together in the living room for drinks, food and games. you had found yourself seated next to lando on the couch, his hip pressed against yours from how close you were. ria on the other side of you, laughing as you watched niran pick up 6 uno cards.

max watched the way you two interacted, the way lando kept one hand draped around the back of the couch near your shoulders and how your body had slotted right into his side. it wasn’t unusual for the two of you to be close, but as of recently, the distance between the two of you kept getting smaller and smaller. his voice was softer, hugs lasted longer, eye contact ended with soft smiles and glances down at the floor.

he had known his best friend was obsessed with you the moment you met, immediately asking max for your instagram when you had met. the real giveaway was the countless texts about how he ‘wanted to kiss your face all over’ whenever you showed up at races wearing his number or dressed head to toe in papaya. that’s when he knew his best friend was head over heels.

“uno,” you smiled, holding your card close to your chest so others couldn’t see. everyone started cursing themselves, not believing the fact that you were so close to winning the game. lando leaned his head closer or you, trying to catch a peek at your card. he poked at your side, trying to get you to squirm so he could see, but you held it even closer and laughed, pushing him away.

“stop trying to cheat!” you laughed, pulling his hands from your side.

he wore the cutest smirk, “i’m not trying to cheat!”

“liar,” you joked back. max snorted softly, placing the card down in the pile. now it was lando’s turn and he had nothing to give away except a red four, which was going to let you win the game, unbeknownst to him.

you threw your arms up, tossing the card onto the table and happily cheering as everyone groaned softly, “i win, bitches!”

“that’s not even fair! how’d you win after having 25 cards?!”

“i’m just good like that,” you smiled, turning to the boy next to you and motioning to his empty glass, “want another drink?”

he nodded, passing you the glass with a smile, “thank you.”

you hummed, ria popping up from the couch after you, “i need another one too.”

with you gone in the kitchen, now it was time for the interrogating to start. aarav speaking up first, “so mate, when’re you going to tell her you’re head over heels?”

“i don’t think he even has to say it,” ethan joked, “it’s pretty obvious.”

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” the curly haired brit said, helping max gather up the cards. the boys chuckled softly as max shook his head.

“you’re wasting time, mate!” niran said, “everyone knows you’re in love, just get on with it already.”

lando looked at his friend for help, but max shrugged, “they’re right. you have hearts in your eyes whenever she’s around.”

he was about to open his mouth to respond when yours and rias giggles sounded back into the room. you took your spot back next to lando, crossing your legs under you. he smiled at you as everyone got the table cleaned up for the movie that was up next on tonight’s agenda.

you leaned into lando’s shoulder, watching max fail at entering his password on the streaming service and laughing at his frustration. once everything was set up and everyone was comfortable, he reached over and turned the lamp off on the end table. you reached behind you, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over you and lando, scooting closer into his body as he wrapped an arm around you.

about forty minutes into the move, you felt lando’s head lean on yours before his lips came close to your ear, “you comfortable?”

you nodded, turning to meet his eyes in the dim lighting. you smiled, reaching up and brushing the stray curl from his forehead, “yeah, you?”

he nodded, “so comfortable i could sleep.”

you chuckled, “sleep, then. pretty sure almost everyone are already knocked out.”

he glanced down at the floor where his friends sat, their eyes closed. he looked over at max who was on his phone, paying no mind to the movie. your long haired brunette friend next to you had fallen asleep too, her cheek pressed against the arm of the couch.

lando tucked his face into your hair, “wanna go to bed?”

you nodded, “let’s go.”

the two of you stood up, you draping the blanket over ria as lando whispered to his best friend, “we’re going to bed, mate.”

max nodded, “i’ll probably be up in a little while.”

lando nodded back, following you up the stairs. you opened the door to your shared guest room, him closing the door softly. you slipped into the connected bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush from your toiletry bag. you smiled as you met the familiar pair of green eyes in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your middle before he reached for his own toothbrush. you smiled at him in the mirror, the both of you finishing up before you spun around, pressed against the counter as your hands went up to his unruly curls from the blowing wind in london.

“you need a brush.”

“and i need you in bed,” he said, dragging you with him as he turned off the light and climbed into bed. you joined him under the covers, your cheek resting against his chest as he held you close. he played with your hair as you drew circles into the material of his soft cotton shirt. you tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes meeting yours as he looked down at you.

“is it true?” you asked and continued when he pulled his eyebrows together, “what the guys were talking about earlier? about you liking me?”

he swallowed, racking his brain. surely he couldn’t back peddle now, and how could he lie to you? he couldn’t. so he told the truth, “yeah,”

you smiled softly, “knew it.”

“i wasn’t that obvious!” he argued with a laugh, “i like to think i’ve been very subtle!”

“as subtle as they get,” you joked, reaching up and placing your thumb against his bottom lip, “i like you too, lan.”

he smiled, lifting your chin with his index finger and thumb, pulling you up to him before he pressed his lips to yours. you kissed him back, the kiss breaking shortly after from fits of giggles and wide smiles. a new sense of love in the air between you two.

[kaleldobrev]

A Simple Misunderstanding

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hughie might of overheard something he probably shouldn't have between you and Ben

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Cursing (9x), Fluff, Sexual Innuendos, Implied Drug Use, Soldier Boy (Yes, our macho man gets his own warning)

Authors Note: So, this has been sitting in my drafts for months and I've been going back and forth debating if I was going to post this or not. But once I gave the summary to @zepskies she said she was intrigued, so I said, "What the heck?" and now it's posted for your enjoyment | This is my first time writing for this universe so I hope I was able to do these characters justice | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It was the middle of the night and Hughie couldn’t sleep. Although him and The Boys were in a safe house in the middle of nowhere with no neighbors for miles, it surprised him how noisy everything could be. He had lived in New York City all his life; he was used to the noise. The bustling sounds of traffic, the occasional gunshot or stabbing, airplanes always flying overhead, or a supe destroying some vehicles while trying to catch a culprit. But the noises he heard were much different; it was the sounds of the crickets, droplets of water hitting an unwashed plate in the sink, and random incoherent whispering. The hustle and bustle of the city had become white noise to him.

Looking over at the clock it just struck 1:59am. He hadn’t been in bed long trying to sleep, only attempting to just a little past midnight. Since joining the group, it was unusual for him to actually get to bed at a normal time or even go to bed at all. He was used to going a day or two without sleep. Frenchie tempted him with some sort of drug to keep him going or an energy drink, MM would usually offer coffee which was the preferred method for Hughie. But at this point, the caffeine wasn’t working anymore, as he had started drinking it like water. Unhealthy for sure, but so was not sleeping for one, two, or three days straight.

This was the first time in a long time where everyone was actually sleeping, even Butcher. It was strange, because as long as Hughie had known him, he never once saw the man sleep. The closest he ever got was when he would get knocked out; but even then, that was kind of a rare occurrence.

Getting up from his bed he sat on the edge of it for a moment rubbing his face. He had wanted to stay in bed and keep trying to fall asleep, but he knew that there was no use. So he decided to implement a trick that he remembered his mother using when she couldn’t fall asleep or get back to sleep. When she had trouble falling asleep or getting back to sleep, she would do various things to occupy herself until she felt tired enough to try and sleep again. Her usual go-to’s were either reading in the living room or listening to Billy Joel quietly to herself. Once, Hughie remembered waking up in the middle of the night and had found her humming quietly to herself while she read a book in the living room. The only light came from a single table lamp next to her.

Leaving the bedroom he started making his way down the hall toward the living room where he decided to watch some TV. There would probably be nothing worth watching at this time; just infomercials about grills or some kind of cleaning agent that didn’t work. He really wasn’t picky about what he watched, he just wanted something to help him fall asleep.

As he walked down the hall, he heard faint whispering coming from one of the bedrooms. He thought that he had been the only one up - guess he was wrong. The room in which he heard the whispering coming from was Soldier Boy's room - something that he didn't find surprising in the slightest, as he was someone that actively fought sleep. "I've slept enough," he would say.

He started walking away, but didn't move far as he stopped dead in his tracks. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" That was your voice. What the Hell were you doing in his bedroom? And at this hour? Hughie thought to himself. He knew that the two of you were friends of some sort, as you were the only person that SB genuinely seemed to like and get along with, but for some reason, it didn't really occur to Hughie that you would be spending time with him this late into the night.

The next thing he heard was chuckling, chuckling from SB. "Trust me." The next sounds Hughie heard actually made his eyes go wide. It was the bedside drawer opening and closing just as quickly, the sound of some kind of plastic being opened, and then bed springs squeaking. The squeaking was so loud that he could only assume that it was the two of you moving in unison, not just one of you.

“Oh wow that’s…huge.” You commented, emphasizing the word ‘huge.’ Huge? Hughie thought. Gross.

Again, SB chuckled. “Never seen one so big Princess?” Princess?! Hughie was surprised he didn’t gag right then and there. Never did he ever want to hear SB say the word Princess, nor did he ever want to hear it in the context of it being used to describe you; his best friend since kindergarten.

“No, never.” You replied back, sounding as if you were embarrassed. “I mean, I’ve heard they can be that big but…” you trailed off.

So many emotions were taking over Hughie: but disgust was the main one. There were two things that his brain automatically came up with in this scenario. The first: barge into the room and stop you and Soldier Boy from having sex, the second: move far away as possible from the door and pretend this never happened. As much as he wanted to do the first option, he valued his life too much, didn't want to see Soldier Boy in all of his naked glory (once was enough when they were in Russia), nor did he want to be a cockblock for one of the oldest and most powerful supes in history. He knew, that being a cockblock would have been the very last thing he would do in life if he barged in. Option two it is, he thought to himself. With that decision, he never moved so quickly in his life.

The morning finally came and you were greeted by Ben having his arms wrapped around you and your head tucked underneath his chin. His embrace around you was tight, but not so tight that if you needed to move, you could (not that he would let you move any way, he was too comfortable). He's getting better at not crushing me when we cuddle, you couldn't help but think. The position the two of you were in was an intimate one, and it had become a somewhat regular occurrence over the past couple of weeks. It was something that you never thought would ever happen, especially when you first met him a few months ago.

Your relationship with Ben had drastically changed in the short amount of time that you had known him and took a complete 180. When you first met him, you were initially excited to meet him because you had watched all of his movies on repeat growing up as your father was a huge Soldier Boy fan - it was something the two of you had bonded over. But when you met him, he was far from how you envisioned him to be. He wasn't this all-American hero who stood up against injustice - he was a misogynistic racist asshole.

As time went on, Ben had somehow started to grow on you. Although there were still elements of him that radiated misogynism and racism, you gave him the benefit of the doubt when it came to certain things. How it wasn't entirely his fault, as he had spent 40 years essentially in isolation being tortured by the Russians; completely unaware of the massive changes that took place in the world. Once you had "remembered" that, and started spending more and more time with him, you had started to fall for him - and it happened relatively quick.

"Good morning." He said to you, his voice lazy as he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Good morning to you too." You replied back, pressing your back and ass closer into him.

"Your heart's beatin' a little fast there Princess." He smirked.

"It's just nice waking up like this, that's all." You said. "Well, you kissing my bare shoulder doesn't hurt either."

"You know, I can kiss other parts too." He said, keeping the smirk on his lips.

"Hmm, I know you can." You said, turning to face him. He leaned in and kissed you, a little surprised that he was the one that initiated. "Can I ask you something?"

You heard an annoyed sigh from him. "You're going to ask if I say no or not Sweetheart." He responded with his usual bluntness.

"Yeah you're right." You said. Ben couldn't help but slightly roll his eyes. "So my question," you began, turning to face him completely as you propped up your elbow on the pillow. "Why didn't you try and have sex with me last night?"

Ben looked at you with a mixture of confusion and amusement. "You're disappointed that I didn't try and fuck you?" He let out a small chuckle at your question.

"Honestly...Yeah. I mean, everyone was sleeping, and I know you want to. Plus, I barely had anything on." When you came to his room last night, you had purposely wore more revealing clothes in order to tempt him - a tank top and boy shorts.

"You wouldn't've been able to stay quiet." He began. "Although, it would have been fun to hear you attempting to be quiet and failing miserably." There was that smirk again.

"You don't know that." You said, your fingertips running up and down his bare arm.

"Y/N, trust me. You wouldn't have." His confidence was almost radiating arrogance.

"Is that a promise?" You asked. Your question more bold than you had intended it to sound.

"Oh, it most definitely is." He said. "I'll tell you what. We can test it out tonight." He leaned in, inches away from your face, moving a strand of lose hair that had fallen in front of your face.

"Promise?" You asked, your voice low, a little hesitant.

"I didn't stutter did I?"

"No Sir." You said, leaning in and kissing him again.

The smell of bacon, eggs, and pancakes filled the air, glasses of orange juice on the table. MM and Frenchie making breakfast for everyone while Kimiko helped to set the table. Butcher sat on the barstool on the island in the kitchen, every once in a while taking a sip of coffee and reading the paper. Hughie walked into the kitchen and took a seat next to Butcher, his face looked like he had seen a ghost. Putting down the last plate, Kimiko looked at Hughie and walked over to him, tapping him on the shoulder. He didn’t respond to her touch, which made her slightly frown with concern. Frenchie looked over at her and she signed something to him. “Petit Hughie, she wants to know what’s wrong.” Frenchie translated.

Hughie didn’t respond, he just sat there on the stool looking off into space. Frenchie waved his hand in front of Hughie’s face. “Petit Hughie?” Frenchie and MM exchanged looks, and Butcher put down the paper.

“Oi, lad.” He waved his hand in front of his face too. He looked over at MM and Frenchie. “I know what to do.” Without hesitation, Butcher slapped Hughie in the face, causing him to almost fall off the barstool.

Hughie started rubbing his cheek where Butcher had slapped him. "What the fuck was that for?"

"For being a creepy little shite and not saying anything when we're talkin' to ya." Butcher responded.

"I had uh, a rough night." Hughie said. He pointed at his cheek. "This isn't going to bruise is it?" He asked, Butcher rolled his eyes.

"Do you want me to make it bruise?" He asked, smirking.

"Good morning everyone!" You practically sang as you walked into the kitchen. Everyone besides Ben had been there, as he was still currently pre-occupied with taking a shower. Everyone was currently sitting at the dining room table, slowly taking bites of their breakfast. Every so often, they took glances at you before looking back down at their plate of food.

Sitting down at the table, you took your usual spot next to Hughie and gave him a quick smile, before taking your fork and started digging into your pancakes. "MM, Frenchie, did you guys make this?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"Uh, yeah." MM responded, almost too quietly. It was a little strange to you how quietly he had responded, but at the same time, you didn't really think anything of it, as the last couple of days has been a little rough for everyone. Despite being in a safe house, you knew that MM was at least up some of the night making sure that all of you were actually safe. You weren't sure if it was because of the situation you all were in, his military background, his OCD, or a combination of the three.

After a few moments of silence Hughie finally spoke to you. "So, how did you uh, sleep?"

You took a sip of your orange juice before responding. "Pretty good actually. Best I've slept in quite a while." Which was true. "How about you?"

"Rough night." Hughie said, responding very quickly to your question, as if he already had his answered prepared.

You frowned at his answer. "I'm sorry. Nightmare? Couldn't sleep?"

"A little of both." He said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Ye-" Before he could finish his sentence, Ben walked into the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing a t-shirt that you had gotten him about a week ago. Without saying a single word, Ben took his usual spot next to you and started digging into the plate of food in front of him.

You cleared your throat and looked at him, which caused him to look at you. "What?" He asked, a mouth full of pancakes.

"Isn't there something you'd like to say?" You asked.

"Christ on a cross..." He mumbled, before looking up. "Morning." He said, forcing a smile before looking down at his plate again. "Happy?" He mumbled just low enough for only you to hear.

You smiled at him. "Very." You whispered back.

"The things I fucking do for you." He mumbled.

Hughie stood up very abruptly, the utensils and plates shaking a bit. This abruptness had caused everyone to look at him (except for Ben, who didn't even seemed bothered in the slightest). "You know what, I'm just going to come out and say it." His voice confident.

"We know you're gay." Ben said, very nonchalantly, still not looking up. "It's uh, good for you." He looked up now, focusing his attention on Hughie. "Be proud or...whatever." He finished, flashing him a forced smile. Ben then turned toward his attention to you, looking for some kind of approval from you regarding what he just said. Trying to adjust to the modern age was hard for him, but he was thankful that you were there to help him navigate things.

"What? I-I'm not gay. For the last time, I'm with Annie." Hughie said, trying his best to defend himself.

"I've been told that's called a beard." Ben took another bite out of his pancakes, and your hand automatically went to his thigh, giving it a small squeeze. It was your way of basically telling him to stop talking. He looked at your hand before looking at you again. "What?"

You turned your attention to your friend. "Hughie, what did you want to say?"

"Okay. I'm just going to come out and say it. Ask it. Whatever!" His voice sounding insanely flustered. "Did you guys fuck last night?"

You felt your eyes go wide, your fingernails digging into Ben's pants. You didn't know what to say, you were speechless. "What's it to you?" Ben asked, not even seeming to be remotely fazed by Hughie's question.

"Because she's my friend." Hughie responded. He knew that his response wasn't good enough.

"Okay, and?" Ben gave him a confused look, unsure of what Hughie's point even was. "I'll repeat, what's it to you? Y/N doesn't ask every time you blow Butcher."

"Again, I'm not gay." Hughie said, his voice sounding defeated.

"Whatever. Point is, she doesn't fucking ask. So why are you asking?" You couldn't help but agree with Ben, who seemed to be very reasonable in his questioning for once.

Hughie looked at Ben and you, and then looked at the rest of the group - all of them staring at him, waiting for him to say something. "Because..." he tried to find the right words. "Because you two are the reason why I couldn't sleep last night!" You and Ben exchanged looks, not understanding. The two of you focused your attention on him. Before either you or Ben could say anything, Hughie started talking again. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" He looked at you. "Never seen one so big?" He looked at Ben. "You're even wearing his fucking shirt!" Hughie pointed to the shirt you were wearing.

You looked down at your shirt before looking at Hughie again. "I always wear Ben's shirts." You stated.

"No, you don't actually!" Hughie's voice was starting to sound so frantic now.

"She looks damn good in them though." Ben commented, taking yours and his empty plate to the sink.

"Hughie, I can assure you. Me and him didn't have sex last night." You said, really trying your best to reassure your friend, even though - to Ben's point - it wasn't remotely his business anyway.

"We will tonight though." Ben said, his voice calm as it has been throughout this entire exchange.

"They didn't need to know that." You pinched the bridge of your nose. You weren't embarrassed that Ben said that, but it was something that you didn't think he needed to add to the conversation.

"Sure they did. I mean, your friend here seems interested." Ben walked over back to the table, placing two mugs of coffee before sitting back down next to you again.

"For the love of..." You mumbled. "We smoked a blunt last night! There! Happy?" Your voice was the one that sounded frantic now, with a small hint of annoyance added.

"You guys...smoked...a blunt?" Hughie felt his cheeks heating up, embarrassed by this whole exchange now. "So you guys weren't talking about the size of his -"

"Hughie you better not finish that fucking sentence I swear to God." MM said, his voice sounding as if he had lost all of his patience already for the day, and it wasn't even nine in the morning yet.

“Ben and I were talking and I had mentioned that I’ve never smoked a blunt before, or have done any kind of drugs so he offered to let me try it. That’s it.” There was much more to the conversation, but you didn't feel like adding anything else. The rest of the gang didn't need to know that you and Ben were planning on going some place far away from New York when all was said and done.

"You never smoked a blunt before? I'm shocked." Butcher stated. "Swear you have." For as long as he had known you (which was quite a while now, as you joined The Boys about a year before Lamplighter had killed Mallory's grandkids), he could have sworn up and down that you were on some kind of drugs, but he never could put his finger on it. He thought about asking you of course, but he always decided against it.

"It's shocking I know." You shrugged. "I guess it's never appealed to me."

"Well it's a good thing you're with Mister Coke Head over here." Butcher said, adding a little chuckle at the end.

"Just because we're together doesn't mean I'm gonna start doing drugs with him Butcher." You defended.

"She'll be too busy doing other things." Ben smirked, before winking at you.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @zepskies If you want to be added to a tag list, let me know!

[simmila]

MaxisMax! - Maximalist Set

Its time! The Maxis Max set is now available on Early Access! This set is special to me, since i wanted to do this set for months already, and now the living area is finished! I had so much fun doing unusual shapes for the furniture, and I wanted to add a lot of color and rounded shapes; but every item includes neutral tones too :)

---! This pack is now on Early Access, but it will be Available for free on November 20th. !---

THIS PACK INCLUDES A TOTAL OF 20 OBJECTS:

4 Framed Wall Art (Game Cards, Rococo Paintings, Medieval Ugly Pets & Dinosaur drawing)

2 Floating Shelves

2 Wall Decoration (Vintage Dish & Sweetheart Candy)

2 Rugs (Shapes & Sweetheart Candy)

Candle Tray

Coffee Table, Side Table, Hallway Table & 1x1 Dining Table

Loveseat, Pouf Chair and Dining Chair

Floor Lamp

3 Heights of Ceiling Lamp

Plant in Juicebox Vase

--- You can find this Pack by typing "Simmila" or "MaxisMax" on the search bar. --- Patreon: Preview (x) // If you are a member: (x)

Really hope you enjoy! i had so much fun creating it and i'm excited to use it in my game <3 Please tag me if you'd like to share, i love seeing your builds and creations!

With lots of love, Simmila.

[shoyostar]

POWER OUTAGE .ᐟ

── TETSURŌ KUROO ┊ HAIKYUU!!

raining in japan m.list // haikyuu!! masterlist.

premise. thunderstorms scare you greatly. but thanks to your cute neighbour, you know you’ll be okay after all.

content. tetsurou kuroo / f!reader. fluff. reader is a scared of storms, mainly thunder. power outage. set ambiguously post highschool / university. neighbours to lovers.

word count. 3.1k

soundtrack. show me how : men i trust.

¹new message from jia ෆ hi i’m not dead yes i do still write !! @tetzoro @tetsuskei i hope i did your man justice ^_^

03:24

You barely manage to catch the flickering lights of your dining room’s lamp glitch out repeatedly from the corner of your eye, the lights inside your dingy apartment appearing to go haywire as constant streams of raindrops pound against the glass of your windows.

With each passing second they seem to multiply tenfold of the previous, their impact upon crashing into each other sometimes merging with one another in sync to form a continuous stream of running water trickling down the brick walls of your complex instead of the constant buzz of millions of tiny water droplets.

The soft glow from your lamp dims momentarily before coming to a complete halt. Your hopes are quickly dashed when you see it attempt to start back up again before going dead, and after a few seconds of the darkness swallowing your apartment whole a begrudging sigh escapes your lips as you close your textbook.

“Ah, damn it . . . not again . . .”

You slowly stand up from your seat at the dining table, cautiously pushing your chair back just a little as to not hit the rest of your furniture and carefully maneuvering your way through the dark of your living room.

“Where the hell did I put that flashlight . . . ?”

You really should’ve thought to charge your phone and powerbank ahead of time when you heard a thunderstorm was making it’s way to your city on the news earlier. Now with a dead cellphone battery and empty powerbank you’re left to fend for yourself amist the unknown layout of your apartment without a light source.

Scuffling around in the dark, you take a step forward, miscalculating how much distance there is infront of you as you find yourself accidentally ramming your shin against the side of your unusually hard bookshelf, sending you reeling in agonizing pain stomach first and flopping right onto your couch.

Ouch.

Your teeth grind against each other as you hold your shin, wincing while rocking slightly in an attempt to alleviate the pain. “God, that did not sound good . . .” You can’t see through the near pitch black lowlight of your apartment, but you’re almost certain a nasty bruise may have begun to form on your skin from that.

A few more minutes of stumbling finally merits you to where you had originally intended to end up in the first place— the supply closet. Feeling around for the door’s surface your hand manages to find it’s grip onto the smooth metal handle, twisting it open and carefully reaching out into the darkness.

“It should be on the second shelf . . . or was it the third? Fuck, I really can’t see anything right now . . .”

Your fingers brush up against the elastic wrist tie of the flashlight (it was on the third shelf after all, go figure) and you impatiently snatch it from off the pile of other assorted junk you’ve haphazardly thrown in there throughout the years.

All you hear is a soft click as you turn on the device before your eyes are bombarded by a bright flash, the sudden overload causing you to stumble back a bit, blinking repeatedly to soothe the burn in the back of your retinas.

Maybe it’s not the best idea to hold a flashlight so close to your face while it’s aiming (or pointed) directly into your eyes.

Using your newly gained lightsource you make your way to the fuse box in your kitchen, now being able to easily navigate your way through the dark you give yourself a moment to stop and glare at the corner of your bookshelf that you’d run into earlier, “Asshole.”

Opening the fuse box, you shine the light onto the many circuits housed within, eyes trailing down and scanning each one for the labels of what light they control. You experimentally switch the one for the living room on, glancing outside of your kitchen into the hall to check, only to be met with disappointment as you see the nothingness of the night staring right back at you.

Just as a confirmation (and because you’re stubborn), you switch a couple more of the circuits on and off repeatedly, disappointment mares your features when they yield no results. “No power at all . . .”

A deep crackle of thunder booms from the sky outside, startling you as you nearly drop the flashlight in your hands if not for the wrist tie securing it. A few seconds of heaving and checking outside your kitchen’s windows— only to see more rain than you could ever possibly need in three lifetimes —causes you to ease up a little. You feel a chill run down your bare arms though, the short sleeves and pajama shorts you chose to wear tonight not doing much with the raging wind howling just outside your apartment.

The sudden sounds of gentle knocking at your door cuts through the silence of your empty apartment, the hairs on your back shooting straight up in surprise. You cautiously make your way over to the door, uneasy as your hands hesitate to lay on the knob. Who else could be up at this late hour?

Your eyes squint through the tiny peephole of your door, zoning in on a familiar head of messy black hair, donned in a worn out old highschool volleyball hoodie. With noticeable bags underneath his eyes matching your own, you can tell he’s been staying up as late as you have.

You can’t quite see much or well for that matter through the tiny peephole’s space, but he patiently waits outside with an uneasy look on his face, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket and pacing around anxiously on the small space on your door mat.

With your heart rate spiking back down to normal levels, you slowly open the door to him. He jumps back a little when he sees you in front of him, as if he wasn’t expecting you to actually be awake. You give him a polite smile.

“Hey, Kuroo.”

He chuckles a little, bringing his hands out of his pockets. You notice the pearly whites of his canines poking out from his lips when he grins. It suits him well. “You know it’s okay to just call me Tetsurou.”

“Right, right. My bad.”

“‘You doing alright?” He asks you worriedly, craning his head aside to check the dark of your apartment. “Heard the entire building’s power just got wiped by the storm. ‘Was told it won’t be back for another few hours.”

Of course it won’t be back for awhile, the electricians can’t really do much while the thunderstorm rages outside. You doubt anyone in the building who was asleep by now would even notice there had been a power outage tonight, most people aren’t awake at the acceptable hours of 3AM working on their overly procrastinated capstone assignment anyways to even care about the torrential rain pouring outside their windows.

“Can I come inside?” Tetsurou asks before stopping himself, backtracking hurriedly while making funny hand gestures. What was that sign he just made? It might’ve meant Apple in JSL. “I mean, if it’s okay with you. I know it’s late and all, and that you probably want to sleep but I—“

You cut him off with a giggle of your own, “Tetsurou,” his cheeks dust a light shade of pink in the darkness. Your laughter. It sounds like bells to him, akin to the raindrops that hit your windows with a light tinkle each time they fall from the clouds above. Wind chimes in the raging storm that falls around you two and lighting crackles behind him, illuminating your bright face for him.

“I don’t mind, you can come inside. You must be cold standing out here, I know I am and I’m just in the doorway.” You take him by the hand, his skin’s cold just as you expected from the frigid air as you guide him into your apartment.

He stumbles a bit through the front door “H— hey!” trying to remove his shoes by the entrance and lay them by the door mat, bringing with him two large blankets tucked under his arms you hadn’t noticed him carrying in the darkness.

Tetsurou’s eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness, squinting and zoning in on the little stack of books piled up at your desk, the flashlight you were using placed just beside an open notebook. “You’re still trying to work on that assignment?” He asks, setting the blankets down on a chair as you slide into your own, clicking the flashlight on and shining it down on your pages.

“Yeah, it’s due soon.”

“There’s a storm outside.” He comments on matter of factly, chin folded into the crook of his hands as he leans on the backside of the chair. You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the obviousness of the situation.

“And?”

“Just, come here.” You feel his hand reach out into the darkness, standing you up from the table with mild disagreement from you, “Relax with me a little, let’s go sit on your couch together. I brought blankets for a reason.”

“I can use one while working at the dinner table.”

The frown that tugs at Tetsurou’s lips is barely noticeable in the dark, but he whines audibly. “That sounds uncomfortable, though.”

“It’s fine.”

“Isn’t it better to huddle together for warmth?” He suggests playfully, “Y’know, no power n’ heat.”

You think his compromise over for a moment, and he senses the hesitation brewing inside your mind. “I promise it’ll be good.” Lighting flashes outside your window for a split second, followed by the loud seismic boom of thunder that causes you to flinch in his hold. Instinctively he jumps, pulling you into a hug as your heavy breathing fills the silence of your apartment. Seconds tick by on the clock hanging on your wall, as it seems like the heartbeats of both you and Tetsurou meld into one beat.

“Are you . . .” Tetsurou looks out the window for a moment, his voice drawls on low and quiet even though the only two people here are you and him, as if he’s about to ask something he shouldn’t. “Are you scared of thunder?”

“. . . No.”

“That sounds like a yes to me.”

“I’m an adult,” You huff, trying to break out of his hold and back to your pile of due papers, “I don’t get scared by thunder like a little kid.” Tetsurou barely catches the “anymore” you mutter underneath your breath. His hold on you not only tightens but he drags you to the couch, much to your protests and complaints.

“You’re not a very good liar,” he grins, plopping you down beside him before reaching over you to drape a thick blanket over your shivering body, were you always this cold? You try to move your hands to lift the blanket off, to stand up but it’s heavy. It traps your arms underneath it, feeling like he condemned you to the couch.

“Is this blanket weighted?” You ask and he hums, draping the other one he bought over himself with a relaxed sigh. “Yeah, I’ve found they’re really good for rainy nights.” You can’t deny that now that you’ve gotten a taste, having this is almost like having a barrier from the cold rain and air outside, and you’re already warmer than you were just a few moments ago.

You wrap it tighter around your body, the fabric smells like him. “Thanks, Tetsurou.” Another crackle of lighting blasts inside your living room through the window, peeking through the gap of your curtains as thunder follows closely in suit. It’s louder this time, and seemed to be a lot closer to your apartment than the others. Your hands slam over the cups of your ears to shield them from the thunderous booms, they feel weighed down by the heavy blanket as you bury your head into the thick material, closing them as like an extra precaution from the storm outside.

You don’t even realize you’re shaking until you feel a hand smooth over you back. Tetsurou’s.

You can barely make out his voice with your hands blocking your hearing, “Are you okay?” It’s muffled and quiet, and his hand rubs soothing circles into your back as you barely manage to move your head to a nod. More thunder comes and Tetsurou’s eyesbrows knit together as you frantically switch to shaking your head no, feeling it drop further into the blanket in shame. Your heart in sync as the storm outside won’t stop taunting you.

The small raindrops that crash against your window feel like they’re right up against your ears, the bright lighting that races across the sky’s edge stings your eyes to look at it, even if you shut them as tight as can be. And that god awful thunder, the thunder that makes you feel like your dingy apartment might crumble underneath it’s roar, crashing to the floors below as the trees outside cave in on you from above.

“This is so embarrassing . . .” Tetsurou hears you mutter as you lift your head to the side to face him, fear is written all over your features and you look like you’re about to cry in the presence of your next-door neighbour. Your voice cracks, and you think you’d prefer if the floor underneath you did fall through after all. “I just really hate storms . . .”

A weak chuckle escapes your lips as you wipe away the tears that prick at your eyes, attempting to lighten up the situation for Tetsurou. You don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by crying in front of him when you were the one who invited him in, “I guess I really am still a little kid, afraid of thunder and lighting like I’m still four.”

Tetsurou doesn’t laugh at your self deprecating jab, and you feel your stomach drop at the lack of a response. Would you have preferred if he laughed? No, not really— but it felt awkward to have only silence between the two of you in the heat of the moment. His hazel eyes seem to twinkle in the darkness when he blinks, and he wraps an arm around you before pulling you into his chest, you let out an alarmed squeak involuntarily from his actions, and the heartbeat in your chest magnifies to the sound of the thunder that you’re so scared of outside.

His own heartbeat is loud too, now that he has you leaning on his chest like this. The wild thumping and beating, is that from you? You feel stupid for getting excited over that possibility, but as you look up from your spot you catch his eyes, tired and still beautiful as both his arms envelope you in a deep hug. He covers your ears with the palms of his hands, red crawls up the skim of his neck and ears in the darkness.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you quietly, flinching when you snuggle deeper into his chest, the scent of his home shirt being the same as the one on the blanket he brought over but stronger. The smell of clean linen from his laundry detergent sticks to the material of his shirt, and you can’t stop yourself from blurting out “Did you just do the laundry before coming over?”

This time it’s his turn to laugh nervously, “Yeah . . .” his head rests atop yours, taking in the scent of your shampoo. It fills his senses, it’s not overpowering or overwhelming at all.

Maybe because it’s you.

“I didn’t want to smell bad when I came over . . . Is that— is that bad?”

“. . . No,” you decide, a content smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not.”

Suddenly the loud sounds of the storm that had you once afraid and cowering in fear seem to drown out from Tetsurou’s cupped hands over your ears, but you know they’re just as strong now than they were earlier, and perhaps even stronger as the night drags on. But in Tetsurou’s embrace, underneath the blankets he brought from home that smell just like him, wrapped up in his arms and snuggled up against his chest; you think you’ll be okay.

“Stay with me,” you eke out without thinking, and a part of you hopes he didn’t hear because you’re worried you’ll ruin the tranquility of whatever you have now— that this moment is only temporary, all will be over by tomorrow morning when the technicians come to fix the apartment’s power outage at 6AM, and you’ll both go back to treating each other as just neighbours. That you’ll pretend you never snuggled together when you had no power and no heat, and you never said the words you’re about to say to him now. “Please, don’t go . . .”

To your surprise, a soft kiss is pressed to the crown of your forehead as Tetsurou’s wild hair tickles at your skin, the erratic beat of his heart thumping wildly in your eardrums. He looks just as nervous as you do, lips suddenly dry and throat closed up when he tries to speak. After a disgruntled groan, the two of you laugh as once more does lightning flash across the sky, with thunder coming in it’s place moments later, hand in hand as always. Just as you expected.

But this time you’re not scared, not when he next whispers out the words you’ve longed to hear since you were a little kid during these storms, not when he cuddles you closer to his chest and brings his lips close to yours before tilting your chin up and capturing you in the sweetest of kisses, his lips perfectly molding to fit yours as he mutters in between the short breaths of air with a smile that rivals the brightness of the lighting you were so scared to gaze into from outside the windows.

“I’m not going anywhere. Don’t worry.”

Raindrops continue to fall from outside, thunder and lightning work as a terrifying duo in sync as they torment the nature. But it all seems significantly less scary now. Underneath the onslaught of rain, the continuous lightning and thunder you’ve feared since childhood, the annoying lack of power— you found something able to strike against even the worst of thunderstorms, and something better to indulge your night in than your assignments that lay long forgotten beside your flashlight on the dining table far away from you and Tetsurou on the couch, warm underneath the blankets together bundled up to escape the cold air.

You found Tetsurou Kuroo.

reblogs are appreciated .ᐟ ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

2024 © property of SHOYOSTAR. all rights reserved. no reposts · plagiarism · edits · stealing · translations etc. thank you !! 𐚁

[thezeninclan]

home to her | nanami kento x reader

kento swallows hard, and when he meets your gaze from across the kotatsu you can see that he looks as though he desperately desires to say something, but is trying hard to force it down. your brows furrow, the heat rising to his face having nothing to do with the warmth of the heater, and your hand lays upon the gift he had pushed across the table towards you. it wasn’t your birthday, wasn’t your anniversary, so the gift had come as a great surprise, despite the practiced nonchalance kento had shown when he whisked it from his satchel and laid it upon the table.

“a gift?” you asked, cheeks flushed with happiness. 

it wasn’t unusual for kento to return home at random with gifts for you, a bouquet of fresh cut lilies, a brand new journal, a sweet smelling candle. but you could tell from the way he presented it that this was something different, something new.  

your chest felt heavy and full, your body so light that for a moment you feared you might simply fly away, if it wasn’t for the wrapped parcel keeping you tethered. nanami nodded tersely, watching as you fingered the navy ribbon as your hands worked at the wrapped paper. 

you startled as the box came into view, the familiar hinged style telling you at once it was jewelry. 

you bit the bottom of your lip, hands nearly shaking as you opened the jewelry box and came face to face with what lay inside. it was a hammered chain-linked necklace, thin and fine, the color silvery-gold, so bright that it nearly glittered in the soft lamp light of the shared living room. your fingertips paused on their exploratory journey across the metal, feeling the heat of his gaze on the top of your head, and you looked up at him. “it’s beautiful.” you breathed, in awe and delight. he looks away from you, a splatter of pink painted across his cheeks that made him look unbearably endearing. but still he said nothing, looking down at his feet and frowning deeply enough to accentuates the sunken lines on his cheeks. 

you frowned, pushing yourself across the tatami to sit at his side. he had given you a gift, surely this must be a pleasant occasion— so why did he look so pained? 

you folded your legs neatly beneath you and placed your hand gently against his firm thigh in a silent gesture of affirmation, finally making him lift his head. kento sighed, long and deep, before lifting an arm and wrapping it around your shoulders, squeezing you against his side. you felt so at ease, so at peace— with your arms around his waist, his warm body pressed against yours, a big hand hand coming to rest upon the top of your head so he could gently stroke at your hair. 

“it’s-” he begins and you turn to look up at him through those big bright eyes he loves so much. he gestures to himself, his long fingers pressing to his blue striped shirt. you wanted them pressing against you. “to me it means...” he trails off again. it’s unusual to see him so at a loss for words, so completely out of his depth, and it just makes you cling to him further. “if you put it on then you shouldn’t...well, what I mean is that you shouldn’t—” 

you realize in a breath what he’s trying to say, the way his fingers have risen to his chest and pulled the collar of his shirt just slightly apart so that you can see a triangle of his bare chest. from the moment you had set your eyes upon him you had noticed something a miss, something unusual— but you hadn’t been able to place it until this moment, until you had caught sight of his naked throat. the chain he usually wore was gone, disappeared from its usual place resting upon his chest to reappear at your fingers. in the time you had known him he had never been without the golden necklace. when he slept he wore nothing but a pair of soft sleep pants and the golden chain, when he bathed or swam at the heated pool at the gym he did not remove it. even when he worked, he wore the chain beneath the lapels of his dark blue long sleeve. you knew how much it meant to him, so to see him without it, to see him gift it to you.    

“I won’t take it off.” you said, interrupting him gently by placing a hand on his. 

you entwined your fingers with his, feeling the calluses and rough skin from so many years of hard work. his eyes were firm as they met yours, unwavering, and yet there was a softness there that made you continue. 

“It means the same thing to me.” you promised, hoping your eyes spoke the words you mouth couldn’t. you knew the weight of the gesture, knew what it meant to him to have gifted that collar to you. “I won’t take it off, kento.” he loved the way you said his name, like a prayer, like a song, whose words only you knew.

the chain felt cool upon your skin as he laid it around your throat, fingers tickling the back of your neck as he did up the clasp. it felt heavy, solid, the same comfort as a weighted blanket orr a warm cup of tea on an icy day. his fingers lingered, sliding down the curve of your spine to the small of your back, the heat of his skin making you shiver. a hand rose to your neck, resting over the golden chain, the other cupping his cheek. your thumb brushed across his bottom lip, the preamble to a kiss that made a frisson of warmth burst through your body. 

“I love you.” you whispered back, kissing kissing kissing him. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” he whispered, and you knew he meant it, the intensity of his voice, the closeness of his lips against yours, the way he cradled your body against him, like you were something precious, something cherished.

also posted on ao3

[zeevawyte]

Ok so, this is so far outside my usual stuff it’s insane, but this literally won't leave my brain and I don't know if I have time to write it so-

RadioApple fic idea under the cut:

TW: blood, mentions of cannibalism (it's Alastor, duh), semi-unsafe dom/sub (no actual sex), sub drops

Starts out your normal "stop interfering with my relationship with my daughter & you can have a snack whenever you want" kinda deal, with Alastor taking full advantage of the fact that he's got the most powerful being in hell at his mercy. Dude has a serious power trip the first time, & between that and the taste is hooked immediately.

And of course Luci isn't exactly complaining. Other than the occasional jumpscare via shadow, it hasn't been too bad. Kind of enjoyable actually, not that he'd ever admit that to the demon's face. And it's not like he hasn't been tied up or held down before either.

But then during one of their ‘meetings’ he ends up going into sub space on accident… and it keeps happening.

This wouldn't be a problem except Alastor (for obvious reasons) has literally zero information/knowledge about that sort of thing. And, being the dramatic asshole that he is, enjoys getting the last word and leaving without a backwards glance. Which means he's not there when Luci drops.

Hard.

But it's fine! He's fine! He's the King of Hell, he doesn't need some sinner to help him deal with the consequences of an arrangement he proposed in the first place. He's totally fine on his own.

Except he's not.

He is very much not fine, and it starts to show. It gets so bad that one day Charlie actually asks him if he’s ok mid-conversation.

Enter Angel Dust.

Now, by this point Angel’s like 98% sure the two powerhouses are going at it. Alastor has been in a good mood for months now (coinciding suspiciously with the two of them not being at each other’s throats all the time - at least in public) & he’s seen Luci coming out of a room straightening his coat and hat on one of the upper floors. Not to mention the down-right flirty undertones to any barbs they shoot back and forth.

Husk agrees that something is going on but heavily doubts it’s what Angel thinks.

Determined to prove that he’s right, Angel starts wandering the upper floors or heading up just as Alastor heads down (subtly, he’s not an idiot). Anyway, he’s up there one day being nosy when he hears a crash from one of the rooms. He goes in only to find Lucifer on the floor, having tripped over a side table and knocked over a lamp, disheveled and absolutely shaking.

He recognizes what’s happening almost immediately (fuck you very much Val) and gathers the little king up onto the couch, helping him calm down until he doesn’t look like he’s going to either spontaneously start sobbing or throw up on the rug.

Luci is understandably embarrassed and tries to offer him a favor for his help, but Angel waves him off saying he’s been there & that Luci doesn’t owe him anything.

The next day when Lucifer is off doing something else, Angel grabs Alastor and all but drags him into a side room.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and short king, and frankly it’s none’a my business-”

“No, it isn’t. And if that really is all you wanted to speak with me about-”

“Shut up! I’m not jokin’ alright? I’m bein’ 100% serious. You’re fucking up big time, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know it. So if you don’t want this whole thing to end in a big fuckin’ mess you need to listen to me.”

Cue a hilariously awkward conversation where an unusually serious Angel explains dom/sub dynamics and the effects/consequences therein to an incredibly-uncomfortable-but-desperately-not-showing-it Alastor.

It ends with something along the lines of

"And look, I don't know if you actually care about the guy or if it’s just about gettin’ your kicks, but honestly? It doesn't matter. You've got your whole gentleman thing right? Openin' doors for the ladies and shit?" *pokes him in the chest* "Well as a gentleman, you've dropped the fuckin' ball. Only self-centered dicks leave their sub to drop alone."

Now if there’s one thing Alastor will not abide, it’s a loss of manners. Being told he’s been unknowingly committing a social faux pas gets under his skin immediately. It itches at him. To the point that his smile almost slips. More than once.

He needs to fix it. As soon as possible.

He’s visibly twitchy the rest of the day.

Husk corners Angel to ask what the hell he said to Al, but only gets a vague, noncommittal answer about letting him know about some information he was missing.

And the next time he and Lucifer have a ‘meeting,’ Alastor stays.

[sleepyangelkami]

PAINS AND ACHES e.williams

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 2.4K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - ellie returns home from a late patrol to find you crying in the bathroom with your hands wound around your stomach. The red blotch on the bedsheets tells her everything she needs to know. Luckily for you both, she knows just what to do to take good care of her girl.

 ☆ WARNINGS - fluff! mentions of periods/blood, comfort, crying, mentions of eating? reader being dramatic because what other way would we have it? petnames, use of 'good girl' and other praises, domestic dom!ellie, nakedness (not in a sexual way), use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie stood in front of the stables, putting shimmer away while hopping from foot to foot. "you okay?" jesse questioned, eyeing her weird antics.

she was shuffling partly because it was freezing out and the jacket around her was doing next to nothing to keep her warm and partly due to the fact she was stressed. she was stressed because she knew you were stressed. this patrol with jesse had been late. she hadn't intended for it to be as so but they had got a little caught up on their way back with a couple stalkers. "yeah, just wanna get home." of course, ellie had no intentions on telling you about this run in with the stalkers when she did get home, she knew you worried about her enough as it was.

jesse nodded his head, yawning as he stretched his arms outwards. "you can say that again." as ellie finally clicked the bottom door of the stables shut. "see you tomorrow, tell y/n i say hi." you and jesse were close, he was practically an older brother, ellie knew this.

she pressed her lips into a short smile. "will do." before bidding her goodbyes. her eyes glanced down to the watch sitting on her wrist, you had given it to her for her birthday after countless times of her loosing track of the time. she was really bad when it came to that kind of management. it was now half eleven and pitch black if not for the power generated street lamps down the paths.

sleep was something you adored more than anything, sometimes ellie thought you may actually choose sleep over her. she knew you weren't one to stay up late. if it had been any other night, you would have been conked out asleep by now but ellie knew better. she knew that you needed her with you to fall asleep. she felt her guilt grow thick.

she made an effort to pick up her pace as she made her way down the path, finding herself at your guys' shared home in minutes. she could tell through the window that the living room lamp had been left on. you always left it on even when the girl scolded you countless times for it.

opening the door, the girl allowed the heat to envelope her. the fire was still alight, setting warmth throughout the house. sighing, she placed her jacket up against the rack next to the door, kicking off her boots afterwards.

it felt good to be warm again. she was sighing with her eyes closed, stretching out her neck as her feet carried her to the living room. she assumed you'd be there, either sitting by the fire reading a book or placed on the couch attempting to doze off, or stop yourself from doing so as you felt yourself grow needier for the comfort of your girlfriends embrace. upon realising you weren't in the living room at all, ellie's brows furrowed. "baby?!" she called out from the bottom of the stairs.

there was no panic laced in the girls voice, just mere confusion. she knew you were here, there was no way you'd be anywhere else, especially not without her. it was just unusual for you to be in the room without her, you always said it made you feel weird, it made you miss her impossibly more. she found herself climbing up the stairs, awaiting a response from you.

her head peaked through the bedroom door. "baby? you in here?" but she was met with mere silence. she found her feet shuffling towards the bedside table, switching on the lamp. she could see clearly now, her ears strained. she thought she could hear... crying? her eyes snapped towards the bathroom door that lay inside the bedroom, confusion dawned over her as she placed her ear against the door, knocking softly. "angel? what's wrong?"

you were crying rather loudly, not harshly but enough to cause concern. "els." you practically whimpered out from behind the door. you had been in excruciating pain for hours, awaiting your girlfriends arrival home. after a while, it seemed as though she may never come home at all.

ellies heart broke at the sound of your voice, choked out and small. "i'm coming in, okay?" though she didn't wait for your response, merely pushing the door open, slowly and carefully in case you had been standing close to it. the last thing she wanted to do was hurt you.

the sight she was met with caused her heart to completely shatter. there you sat, in an almost feeble position. you were curled up completely in on yourself, allowing your legs to fold into your chest. your cheeks were tear stained, lips bitten and wobbly. you thought you looked a mess and even though you needed her comfort so bad, you really didn't want her to see you like this. but to ellie? you were nothing short of perfect, the way you always were, the way you'd always be to her.

but that didn't stop her heart from aching. she hated seeing you cry. "oh, honey." she gave a sympathetic look as she sunk down onto the ground herself, opening her arms and letting you crawl into them. she watched as you instantly enveloped her, pressing your head into the crook of her neck. she could feel your hot tears against her skin. "c'mon, angel, tell me what's wrong."

but you only shook your head, pushing your face into her more. she tried gaining a look at you but all attempts were failed as she frowned, wondering what had happened. Her eyes were dancing around the bedroom, spotting a little red splotch on your guys' pink sheets. they were a baby pink, you had enforced this upon seeing them, you instantly fell in love. you loved just about anything pink.

realisation dawned on ellie as she realised what had happened. "awh, baby." she sympathised, hearing your choked whimper as you pulled her impossibly closer. "is it your tummy, hm?" her voice as soft as feathers. you needed her to be soft.

a nod fell against her skin as she watched your hair bounce slightly. "hurts." you cried against her, arms doing everything they could to keep her close. and it did hurt, god did it hurt, you had tried laying in bed in hopes that it would go away but it didn't it seemed as though nothing you could do could make it go away.

you just needed ellie. your ellie.

"my poor girl." she cooed, brushing the strands of hair out of your face. "how about i run you a bath, hm? get you into some soft jammies and into bed then."

and even though it sounded good, you could still barely move your body, every movement sending shocks into your stomach. "ellie." you whined lightly, though the tears had subsided. "don' wanna move." your cracked and broken voice was enough to have ellie shushing you, not wishing for you to begin crying again.

"i know, baby, i know." patting your hair down with her hand. "but it'll help and when we're finished we can get you wrapped up in bed, all nice 'n cozy, yeah?" you huffed against her neck. she moved your face with her hands, matting down your hair against your cheeks as she held your head in front of her own, smiling softly at the sight of you. she'd been on patrol a couple hours, not a second went by that her mind wasn't stuck to you even when she was getting tackled by stalkers. "how's that sound?"

you wore a pout but murmured a soft. "okay." nonetheless."

"okay." ellie grinned, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. "that's my good girl."

ellie helped you strip out of your clothes, making sure to be extra soft and careful with you, pressing kisses against your neck and shoulder blade, gently guiding you through the process of getting undressed while the water ran in the bath behind you. she unclapsed your single necklace too, making sure no jewelry was on before lowering you into the bath.

the bath was warm, cozy and you could have fallen asleep if ellie hadn't warned you not to. she told you she was going to pick you out clothes, getting the bed stripped too and that she'd be right back. you'd instantly apologised, stating you hadn't meant to bleed on the bed, the girl laughed. of course you hadn't 'mean't to bleed' she kissed your temple and told you to stop worrying.

that was the best thing about dating a girl, they understood completely seeing as they had periods of their own.

by the time ellie returned to the bathroom, you had almost dozed off. the only thing keeping you awake was the distraction of the bubbles. you played with them, pushing them into your hands and squeezing them between your fingers. ellie was now dressed in a dark grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, holding a pile of clothes for you too.

she offered to wash your hair and who were you to deny the experience? "did you eat anything, sweet girl?" It was the only thing ellie disliked about you. she didn't dislike anything about you, not really. but she knew how you could get, forgetting to take care of yourself when she wasn't around. it made her sick to her stomach. it was also what drove her to work hard on patrols, making sure she came home. she knew that without her, you'd fall. she'd be damned if she let you fall.

your eyes trailed towards her, a guilty look on your face. you didn't need to say anything for she was already giving you a pointed look. "'m sorry, els, i forgot." she knew you forgot, you wouldn't do it on purpose.

"it's okay, baby." washing the suds out from your hair. "just means we're gonna have to go downstairs and get you something in your stomach before bed, 'kay?"

but at that you whined out. "els, you promised!" all you wanted was to be wrapped up in her embrace. in bed.

ellie pressed a kiss to your wet forehead which was now clear of any suds or soap. "i know, princess." standing up from her sitting position on the edge of the porcelain bathtub. "wouldn't have happened if you remembered to take care of yourself." she wasn't trying to punish you, she was merely showing you that your own actions had consequences.

you sat with a pout on your lips, arms outstretched. "i know." you mumbled, feeling slightly guilty. but you weren't hungry. the hot water had soothed your stomach a certain amount, the ache wasn't as strong but it was still prominent. you knew that the minute you stepped out of the water you'd be hunched over in pain again.

unluckily for you, the water would have only gotten cold so the one thing you could do was get up and get dressed. ellie, once again, helped you. she dried you off with one of the white towels, helping you get changed after. you wore a white jammies bottom with little brown teddy bears on it along with a white spaghetti strap, she offered the jumper but you politely declined. you had gotten a little warm after your bath.

somehow, you managed to get from the bathroom to the kitchen, sitting on one of the chairs with your head laying on your folded elbows. you were babbling on about something while ellie was toasting you bread. she kept murmuring things like "yeah?" and "really?" or "is that so?" truth was, even you didn't know what you were talking about. But ellie liked to make sure you knew she was listening to you, even if your words were complete and utter jumbles.

"now." turning around with a soft smile. "jam or chocolate?" on your toast, that was.

"mmm." your stomach still hurt but the chocolate seemed so much more appetising right about now. "chocolate please, els."

ellie grinned at your manners. "good choice." she all but cooed at you before taking out the spreadable chocolate. she used a butter knife to spread it across the toast before popping two slices onto a porcelain plate. not before cutting off the crusts, of course.

"thank you." you spoke, beaming up at her. even if you hadn't wanted to eat anything, you were still beyond grateful for the girl going through so much trouble just to make sure you had food in your body.

"my good girl, using her manners." ellie spoke in an almost teasing tone, pressing a chaste kiss against your cheek. you grinned, face warming as she walked away.

you attempted at your toast while ellie stood by the kitchen counter, waiting for the kettle to finish boiling. she had grabbed one of the hot water bottles on the way down. it had a grey fluffy cover with a teddy bear on it, sort of like your pijamas. she filled it up with the hot water, turning to find you ready to sleep on the table. you had eaten almost three quaters of the food but it was all you could stomach.

"thank you for eating something, baby." she murmured against the supple of your skin. "so proud of you." you couldn't fight the smile even when your stomach did feel like it was getting stabbed.

soon after the girl had made you take some painkillers with a glass of water, telling you to drink that too to ease the headache. you listened to her intently, doing everything she asked before ending up back in the bed. this time, with the living room lamp switched off.

the sheets were a cream colour, little blue flowers dotted around them. they were your third favourite. ellie held you close, your back against her chest, legs wrapping around one another. she moved her hands against your stomach, the part where the water bottle wasn't touching. "you okay, honey?" you left out a soft and tired 'mm-hmm' "still hurting?"

"a little bit." you mumbled, almost asleep already. "but you make it stop." ellie's lips turned downward into a smile, trying to contain herself as she pressed a kiss to your shoulder. she was glad. "thank you, els, for everything. you're the best girlfriend ever." the girl merely chuckled against your shoulder.

"i love you." she spoke, voice soft and gentle, calming you.

you were sure you were drifting. you were practically already asleep though your lips mumbled the words. "i love you more."

to which she responded. "i love you most."

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

[ssahotchnerr]

omg the math homework one but aaron is the one who's bad at math (ok canonically he's probably very good at math) so you go over to his place one day and find him hunched over jack's math homework with his hand tangled in his hair trying to figure out a 3rd grade math problem. and jack has already lost interest and is watching cartoons on the TV while aaron is losing his mind. im thinking of that one incredibles scene where bob is like "THEY CHANGED MATH"

calling bullshit

just the image of aaron losing his complete mind over math 😭 omg <3 cw; mention of food, aaron is just 😭😒🤨🥰

you let yourself into aaron's apartment, takeout in hand. you enter into the usual scene - the lamp's lit in the corner, casting a warm, cozy glow. some laundry is perched on the chair, yet to be put away. jack's sprawled out on the couch, some show blaring in front of him. the only unusual thing, aaron seems to be absent.

"hey jackers." you stand beside him, brushing back some of the wispy hairs draped over his forehead. he doesn't acknowledge you too much, as his eyes are glued to the tv screen, simply murmuring a 'hi' in response. "where's your dad?"

"doing homework."

your nose crinkles in confusion. "homework?"

you receive a nod from him in response, and leave him be in search of aaron. you find him in the dining room, vaguely slouched over the table, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. it's quite disheveled, poking in all different directions. his tie is thrown exasperatedly onto the table as well, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

"yikes." your tone is half laugh, half genuine concern. "difficult case?"

aaron straightens his posture, leaning his head back to look at you. his sweet brown eyes are heavily annoyed. "take a look at this."

you grimace slightly. "oh, i don't think i would be much help-"

"just, trust me. take a look."

you cautiously peer over his shoulder, expecting to come face to face with gruesome, murderous details of whatever case his team happens to be working on. but rather, you see multiple math worksheets - jack's name in his childlike, messy-yet-legible print in the corner of each.

you bit down onto your lip to refrain from laughing. "oh, this kind of homework."

"why the hell would they change math." aaron gruffs, tossing his pencil onto the table. "it's universal, isn't it? means the same damn thing everywhere. so who cares if you carry the number this way, or line up the problem this way."

"well, i mean-"

"this is third grade math, i'm a grown man and i've been sitting here trying to make sense of this new way how to do it. it's complete bullshit, if you ask me." a large exhale escapes him, his annoyance now heightening into slight anger. "and they say, this is the new simpler, easier way of doing it? again, bullshi-"

"okay." you laugh, placing a gentle kiss on his head. your hands wrap around him from behind, allowing you to soothingly run your palms along his chest. "how about you try and calm down. i brought food, so we'll eat, and you can take a break. afterwards, all three of us will sit down and figure this out. sound good?"

aaron releases another tense breath, relaxing back into his chair at your touch, and nods silently. you turn your head, placing a kiss on his neck. it's the closest skin of his you can reach, and his skin's warm from his aggravation.

not without giving him another kiss, you trail into the kitchen. but, you can hear him mumbling incoherently under his breath. "-everyone ends up using calculators anyway."

[doctor-dusk]

𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 | 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱 𝐭.

your first time on omegle wasn’t that bad.

warnings: male masturbation, a bit of exhibitionism and voyeurism.

word count: 2.2k

the idea came to my head when i was working, lately i've been struggling with writing. maybe i'll turn it into a little series, idk. hope you enjoy it :3

you never thought about joining omegle ever. you saw compiled videos of people who entered, a simple platform that connected people from different parts of the world. it seemed fun, a perfect pass time. besides, you could meet someone nice. not that you're looking for it in the first place, but it was something you would accept if it came along. 

but you were aware of the cons. your friends used to say that it was a trap, especially because of the perverts on duty. for every 10 people you find on omegle, at least 7 are men masturbating in front of the camera. a proper “hello, nice to meet you”.

anyway, you decide to take a shot. friday night, your parents went out for dinner and you had the whole house to yourself for the night, or at least until 11pm. it was the perfect opportunity, you didn't want to be interrupted or that your parents knew that you were talking to strangers on the internet.

you were in your bedroom, the dim lights of the lamp bring a more comfortable environment to your room. you closed the curtains, then went to your small table that you used to study, picked up your laptop and placed it on the mattress of your bed, right between your legs.

it didn't take long for your laptop to turn on. your eager fingers typed on the browser's search bar to access the website. you wondered if it would be a good idea to show your face on camera. maybe not at first. so, you took your laptop from between your legs, placing it next to you while you pulled the covers up to cover yourself up to your nose, leaving only the area around your eyes visible.

you didn't really know what to expect, if you could stay there for just 1 minute or 1 hour. but you were determined to try. because, besides being curious, you were bored.

without wasting much time, you clicked to enter the website.

almost 30 minutes and you only had a five minute conversation with a girl from wisconsin because she saw your poster on your wall. the rest, just disappointing, even disgusting. it was really impossible for you to skip to the next conversation with someone else without a cock appearing on your screen, almost slapping on your face, if it were possible.

at this point, your finger was glued to the mouse, just clicking to skip the chat, without even introducing yourself or letting others introduce themselves. then, when you clicked on the next one, already thinking about passing, you came across something a bit unusual, but not so different from what you had seen before in previous "conversations".

yeah, it was a guy masturbating, naturally. but in a way, it was different. it wasn't as explicit as the others; it was something more shy, more subtle. the lights in the room where he was were like the ones in your bedroom, dim and cozy, but they didn't leave much to the imagination because his monitor screen illuminated what was in front of you.

he must have had a laptop like you, but it wasn't in a bed, but on a desk, perfectly positioned so that he could sit in a comfortable chair on his side. his toned body wasn't very lit, leaving little to your imagination. his left hand was on the desk, probably to use the mouse or keyboard, while his right hand was lowered.

oh, you were mesmerized, even though you hated to admit it.

the way he was moving his right hand torturously slowly, showing so little. you could only see its pink tip glistening, his thumb sliding easily there in a caress while the other fingers were wrapped in the rest of his length that you couldn't see. and just like you, he wasn't showing his face. he was just there, touching himself slowly, his chest rising and falling in the same calm rhythm. somehow, you liked that. you didn't know if you should say something, if you should leave.

you felt like you were interrupting the moment, but hey, if he was there on omegle, he wanted to be seen, right?

your eyes watched him intently, until you saw his left hand typing something on the keyboard. soon, the message popped on the chat.

''too stunned to speak?''

you blinked a few times, shaking your head and deciding to answer him without typing on the chat.

''kinda.'' you replied shyly. he chuckled lowly.

''i can show you more if you want.'' he replied back, his voice was low too, a bit rough.

''i think it's good like this.'' you said and he hummed, not showing more than you wanted to see. well, at least he was respectful. you thought he would move on to the next chat, but he just kept doing his thing, aware that you're watching him.

‘’you have pretty eyes." he said at one point. you raised your eyebrows. you weren't expecting a compliment at that moment.

''thanks. uhm... you got a nice... well...'' you said, trying to compliment him somehow, but you didn't know exactly how. a nice cock, definitely. at least from what you could see.

‘’a nice cock?’’ he chuckled, as if he were reading your thoughts. ‘’yeah, most people say it.’’

''you've shown it many times, i suppose.'' you replied, and he chuckled again. there was something about him chuckling that left you with a pool on your lower belly. something warming inside you.

''well, not that often. i'm a shy guy, ya' know?'' he said, his thumb pressing right on his slit, making him hiss and you shifted on your bed.

''a shy guy who shows his cock to the camera but doesn't show his face.'' you said, feeling bolder.

he hummed, his head lowering a bit so you could have a glimpse of his chin. besides having a nice cock, he also had a perfectly shaped jaw.

''guilty as charged. but what can i do? 'm just some guy trying to have some fun for free on the internet, don't mind me.'' he said, his forearm flexing a bit when he closed his fist on his tip, sliding down, the foreskin also coming down to show the tip more.

you're lucky he couldn't see your face from the nose down, or else he would see you licking your lips like you were looking at a full meal in front of you. you couldn't help yourself. he was teasing you, and he knew it.

''what about you? what are you doing here this friday night? no slumber party with friends?'' he asked, snapping you out of your reverie.

“i'm bored. i just wanted someone to talk to.'' you shrugged. you weren't lying, actually.

‘'kind of hard to find someone to talk to around here, huh?'' he asked, chuckling about the situation.

''yeah, but... we're talking now, aren't we?''

''while i'm jerking myself off, yeah.'' he added. ''hope you don't mind.''

''i don't mind, don't worry.''

''and why don't you mind?'' he asked, genuinely curious. not even you knew how to say that. at the moment, you were actually enjoying talking to him. especially since you could also see what he was doing.

you didn't need to lie, you were strangers to each other there. at worst, you could just skip the chat and he would be gone forever.

''i kind of liked watching you touch yourself. you're not like the others, explicit and stuff. i like how you do it.'' you replied, watching how his grip on his length seemed to tighten a little. he seemed to like what you said. fueled something inside him.

''yeah, you liked it, eh? that's good to know. i'm glad i'm being able to fill your boredom.'' he said, his hand moving up and down in a controlled rhythm. oh, you wish he could fill more than your boredom. ''you know, i like your voice. can you keep talking to me?''

''what do you want me to say?'' you asked, his left hand gesturing for you to say anything you wanted.

''anything. tell me what you like to do.'' he said, his hand keeping the pace, his breathing a bit ragged. fuck, you thought that it was so hot, you barely could think on tell something about you when you saw him touching himself like that.

‘’i like to read, to take some lazy afternoon’s strolls, listen to some old tunes from the 80’s and…’’ you listed, but you could barely concentrate. the sight of him was lingering in your mind more than you cared to admit, making you feel warmer and warmer, rubbing your thighs together under the blanket to get some kind of relief.

''mhm, keep talking, darling.'' he said in a whisper, his head was back against the back of the chair, his adam's apple was protruding even more as he swallowed hard, his chest moving up and down at the same pace as his hand.

you could praise him. you should praise him.

''and i like your body. the way your hand moves. pretty endearing and...'' you said, biting your lip slightly.

''oh fuck, i bet you wished that it was your hand here, eh?'' he hummed, his voice had a deep tone, a bit ragged from his breathing.

“maybe. i think i could take care of you in no time.” you countered, his hand moved faster, letting out a strangled moan as he came, the thick and slimy release hitting his chest, making a mess on himself.

“oh, fuck, fuck…” he panted, standing still for a few moments, his chest rose and fell rapidly, his hot and fresh cum running down his chest like tears of pleasure. 

you couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the scene. not that you've never seen it before, but somehow it was different. he was different.

“gotta clean this mess.” he muttered to himself after regain some of consciousness, looking at his own mess on his body. you watched as he got up, catching a brief glimpse of his boxers which were pulled down to mid-hip.

you kept silent, somehow thinking you should wait for him to clean himself up before you could say something. 

“just for the record, that never happened before. i mean… it usually only happened when the person was also doing something, touching herself, anyway..." he said as he sat again, holding a tissue on his right hand. he seemed kind of embarrassed that it had happened, and you felt sort of proud. you didn't needed to do anything more.

“it's okay, i liked it.” you replied, reassuring him as he wiped the last restraints off his stomach. then, you could see his face since he was looking down. 

he might not have even realized you saw his face, he was too worried about cleaning himself and you were too worried about seeing how handsome he was.

“you’re pretty.” you let it slip out your lips. he widened his eyes slightly, his eyeballs glanced at the screen, and soon he let out an awkward laugh.

“you weren't supposed to see my face, you know?" he chuckled, crumpling the tissue into a little ball, throwing it directly into the trash can where it was. 

“you faltered, i guess.” you shrugged. he repeated your motion, adjusting his camera so you could see him properly. pretty eyes, pretty lips. such a pretty and big nose. “pretty handsome.”

“yeah, too bad i can't say the same to you.” he teased and you frowned. “you're not showing your face, silly.”

it was a good move. you chuckled, wondering if it would be a good idea to show him your face. it wasn't like you were going to see each other again, was it?

you pulled the blanket off the other half of your face, showing yourself to him. he let out a low whistle and you rolled your eyes, slightly flattered.

“nothing special here.”

“how dare you? your face is as beautiful as your voice.” he complimented you. you couldn't help but feel the butterflies in your stomach do a flip. “i'm alex, by the way.”

right after you said your name back to him, you listened to the sound of your parents' car pulling into the garage of your house. you sighed, muttering a "shit" that he couldn't help but hear. 

“your parents arrived, hm?" he deduced and you gave a crooked smile, nodding with your head. 

“yeah, i have to go.” you gave a slight pout and he mimicked your gesture, eliciting a chuckle from you. you didn't want to leave, you wish you could talk to him more.

“yeah, don't worry. it was nice to talk to you.” he said, giving a slight and shy nod as if he wasn't jerking himself off a few minutes ago in front of you. 

you could listen to the footsteps of your parents around near the house, your father's heavy footsteps contrasting with the dry thud of your mother's heels as she came closer to open the front door.

“um, before you go…” he said before you could exit the site. “i'm here every friday night.”

“is this some kind of 'see you later', alex?” you raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging your lips. he shrugged, trying to act nonchalant, but you could notice the flicker in his eyes, like a silent hope.

“only if you want to, love.”

[cheollipop]

gentle

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pairing: owner!seonghwa x bunny!reader x fox!wooyoung

w.c.: 2.6k

tags: smut, fluff, hybrid au, fem reader

desperate and whiny, your heat pheromones triggered wooyoung's feral instincts, forcing seonghwa to step in and teach him how to treat you properly.

warnings: dom!seonghwa, switch!wooyoung, sub!reader, heat cycles (f), unprotected sex (👎), multiple creampies, multiple orgasms (f&m), breeding kink, use of restraints (leash and collar), nipple play, hwa is referred to as daddy a few times, brat taming (kinda, wooyoung is too eager for his own good), cum eating/swallowing, cum everywhere, so much cum, wooyoung used to be a stray so he struggles with controlling his animalistic instincts, nicknames (baby, bunny, darling; youngie; hwa, daddy), aftercare

A/N: I've had this idea in my notes for quite a while now, and I've wanted to write for this pair for just as long, so I'm really happy I finally got it done :"" happy reading!

nsfw under the cut - minors dni!! 🔞

*₊°。 ❀°。 *₊。 ❀°。• *₊°。 ❀。 *₊°。 ❀°。

A silent home was an unusual occurrence. In most cases, Seonghwa came back to a brightly-lit apartment, it’s two other occupants racking up the electricity bill in his absence. This time, however, it was pitch black, the living room illuminated by the single lamp shining through his open bedroom door. He looked around as he walked through the room, taking in the mayhem that had broken out between the four walls: a broken vase by the coffee table, water pooling over the carpet where a bundle of roses laid lifelessly; the couch cushions thrown haphazardly around the room, only a few left in their place, Tom chasing Jerry on the TV across from it. Walking further into the house, he noted the untouched food bowls by the kitchen’s entryway and finally allowed worry to flood his system. Seonghwa was used to his two hybrids’ rapid footsteps as they barrelled their bodies towards him the second he walked through the door, climbing his body and nuzzling into his clothes. He was used to empty bowls and whiny pleads for dinner. And despite their playfulness, he was used to coming home to a fairly clean apartment, perhaps being met with wide, glassy eyes in case they had broken something while he was at work.

A soft whimper slipped through his open bedroom door and Seonghwa’s legs moved on their own, panickily rushing through the doorway and halfway into the room before stopping. His eyes widened and his leather work bag slipped through limp fingers as he scanned the scene unfolding before him – the fox hybrid covering you with his body and consequently folding yours in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he bucked his hips into your used cunt. Seonghwa’s eyes trailed down to study where you connected, the vulgar squelch of his cum being relentlessly fucked into you, streaming out of your hole and soaking your bunny tail, the ball of fur vibrating weakly at the overstimulation.

Seonghwa had taken Wooyoung in after spotting him dragging an injured leg along the side of a busy road, nursing him back to full health and realising he had gotten too attached to the cheeky fox to let him go. You had been shy and dismissive of the curious hybrid when he first entered your home, perhaps even a little jealous when Seonghwa spent a little too much time caring for him rather than doting on you. It took the fox a few days to open up to you, and only a little over a week for you to realise that Seonghwa was right: It was hard not to love Wooyoung. It surprised Seonghwa at first when you suddenly became accepting of the other hybrid’s presence, welcoming the insistent kisses he pressed to your twitching nose and cuddling up to him on the carpet where the afternoon rays warmed the luxury wool.

After a few months of the stray fox’s move-in, Seonghwa’s surprise faded into fondness whenever he found you and Wooyoung all over each other. But this? This was unusual – Wooyoung’s tail stiff and pointed horizontally, a deep growl muffled through his gritted teeth as he ploughed his cock into you, emptying load after load into your sopping heat. You met Seonghwa’s eyes, your face turned sideways on the tear-soaked pillow, the bottom half of your face wet with a mixture of Wooyoung’s drool and your own.

Your lips widened and closed, stuttering out a few broken moans before managing to form barely-coherent words. “I, Hwa- hnngh! I-I can’t-”

The tone of your voice – desperate and pleading – broke Seonghwa out of the trance he was in, quickly crossing over to the bed and wrapped his arms around Wooyoung to pull him away from you, earning himself a brute growl from the hybrid. Seonghwa watched as pearly ribbons painted your lower belly and mound, Wooyoung’s cock twitching as he came again, immediately standing back up and Seonghwa had to tighten his grip around him to keep him off you. Wooyoung’s gaze fixed on your fluttering hole, his tongue rolling out and drool dripping onto his lap while his eyes followed the trail of cum streaming out of your cunt and pooling over the sheets where you laid.

For a few seconds, Seonghwa did the same, but he quickly tuned out the throbbing in his work pants to tend to you. He was quick to take notice of the familiar flush coating your cheeks, your eyes glazed over and unfocused and your round tail twitching every few seconds – signs he was all too familiar with. You were in heat.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed, moving Wooyoung away from you and sitting down on the edge of the bed by your waist. He cradled your face with one palm and used the other to push your hair off your face. “Your pheromones must be affecting Youngie… Are you okay?”

Looking up at him through your lashes, you blinked a few times before nodding, your whole body tingling under Seonghwa’s touch. “I feel so full, Hwa…”

Seonghwa’s eyes moved down your body until they reached your core: your index and middle fingers spreading you open to show him Wooyoung’s cum overflowing from your fluttering hole as it clenched desperately around nothing. He managed one breathy curse before Wooyoung’s head lowered onto you to lap up his own release, a sudden cry leaving your lips as you grabbed at your owner’s sleeve. Seonghwa tore away from your grip to move the hybrid off you again, grabbing him by the back of his neck and angling his head to face him.

“Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa warned, steadying him with a cautionary look.

The stray turned docile at his owner’s tone, his ears falling flat against his head and his tail drooping. “B-but… ‘want bunny to have my kits. ‘Gotta make sure she’s full of Youngie’s cum…”

Swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth, Seonghwa ignored the fully-formed tent in his pants – twitching and throbbing when his eyes flitted down to your dripping core – and relaxed his hold on Wooyoung’s neck. “You have to be gentle with her, Youngie. You can’t be that rough or she might get hurt,” he smoothed his palm over the fox’s head, lightly scratching behind his ear.

Seonghwa was too distracted admiring the soft blush tinting Wooyoung’s cheeks to notice your hand moving up his leg, inhaling sharply when you cupped his clothed bulge. They both looked down at you – nuzzling your cheek into Seonghwa’s thigh while your hand worked over the hard outline of his cock.

“Can daddy show Youngie how I should be treated?”

--

Wooyoung leaned forward just enough for the leash to tug on the collar around his neck and restrict his airflow, pulling back and panting heavily before leaning forward again, lips parted and drool pooling on the sheets between his legs. He fluttered his eyes shut and welcomed the steady rhythm of skin-on-skin echoing between the four walls, knowing Seonghwa’s cock was drilling his cum into your tight cunt. He opened his eyes again to take in the sheen of sweat covering both your bodies, Seonghwa’s hips relentlessly slamming into yours. It was as though your pheromones were affecting him too despite him being human; you could tell he was barely holding on, trying to maintain a sliver of control over the situation to keep you grounded.

Having spent years with Seonghwa, nothing satiated your need to be bred like he did, grinding his cock into you in a way that sent hot waves of pleasure soaring through your body and fogging up your brain. All you could think about was Seonghwa, Seonghwa, Seonghwa – his fingers gripping the soft skin of your thighs, pushing one down onto the mattress and holding the other around his waist; his mouth periodically pressing against yours, swallowing up the soft melody you sang for him before peppering kisses all over your flushed face. Your whole body shuddered under his when he drove you into another orgasm, praise rolling off his tongue, his voice sweeter than honey while he guided you through your nth high.

“Fuck, good girl,” Seonghwa praised, brushing his palm over the side of your head and dipping down to peck the tip of your twitching nose. “More, baby?”

You nodded desperately, using the leg around his waist to push him closer and further into you.

"So desperate to be bred," he chuckled. "Wanna be fucked full of my cum, hm?"

“Please, please-”

He silenced your whines with a harsh thrust, the corners of his lips tugging upwards when your features relaxed, ecstasy flooding through your body. He looked to the side, taking notice of Wooyoung’s dick – the tip an angry red, leaking an obscene amount of precum – and how his eyes fixed on where the two of you connected, transfixed by his owner’s cock pumping his own cum into your stretched hole, pushing some out to dampen the soiled sheets under you.

Seonghwa let go of your hip to unclip the leash from Wooyoung’s collar, instead grabbing the leather and tugging the stray down to your chest. He didn’t waste a second before latching his mouth onto your perked-up nipple and sucking harshly. Trailing his lips over the slope of your breast, Wooyoung whispered against the slick skin and smiled slyly at the shiver that shook your body, “Gonna be so pretty when they’re swollen with milk.”

His hands remained behind his back – following the firm instructions Seonghwa had given him while securing his leash to the bedhead – digging them into his lower back as he resisted the urge to touch you. Instead, he licked his way back to your nipple, taking it between his teeth and biting down a little too hard, the sharp pain pulling a broken cry from your lips. Long fingers tangled in the hair at the crown of his head and tugged harshly, making Wooyoung face upwards to meet Seonghwa’s burning irises.

“What did I say earlier? Are you gonna be a good boy and listen to me?” Seonghwa growled, his other hand smoothing a thumb over your breast while he stared down the fox hybrid.

Wooyoung stuttered, mewling under Seonghwa’s stern hold, “I’ll be your good boy, I promise! Please, please, I’ll be so good-”

Seonghwa pumped his length between your pulsing walls to push out a dribble of the cum the fox had pumped you full of, scooping it up with two fingers and carrying it to Wooyoung’s open mouth. The hand still holding him up tugged at his hair to sit him up before stuffing his fingers down his throat. Seonghwa began grinding his cock into your heat at the sight – Wooyoung’s eyes glassy with unshed tears, his throat constricting around the long fingers fucking his own cum into his mouth. The older man knew he enjoyed being used like this, taking notice of how his cock twitched violently between his legs at the rough handling.

Seonghwa’s eyes moved back to you – whimpering under him and rolling your hips, seeking out more friction – but he continued making Wooyoung gag on his fingers. Once, twice, and the stray was painting your chest and belly with hot ropes of cum, moaning pathetically as he came untouched, the rough prodding of his owner’s fingers against his uvula enough to drive him over the edge.

But then you were cumming, clamping down on Seonghwa’s cock and deriving a breathy curse from his plush lips before he began pounding into you. Slipping his fingers out of Wooyoung’s hot mouth, he dug them into your hips and chased his own release. Your orgasm prolonged with Seonghwa’s relentless thrusting, you arched your back and gripped on Wooyoung’s thigh as the man on top of you drove his cockhead into your swollen gland, airy moans rolling off your tongue with the mind-numbing pleasure Seonghwa so generously gave you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, “so perfect, the both of you, shit-”

Seonghwa was so close, a hair away from giving you what you desperately wanted. “Please, ‘want daddy’s cum,” you pleaded, the overstimulation violently shaking your legs. “wanna have hwa’s babies, please, fill me up- hnngh!”

He thought he’d cum from that, but then Wooyoung was bending at the waist, licking a stripe over your heaving belly to lap at his own release, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed it down. Seonghwa came with a throaty groan, speeding up his movements before slowing them down to grind his hips into your pulsing cunt, milking himself of every last drop and fucking it into you until it mixed with Wooyoung’s seed.

The next twenty minutes were a blur, Seonghwa guiding Wooyoung into the shower before coming back with a damp cloth, delicately running it over your body to clean you up. You asked him not to wash out the sticky mess inside you, and upon seeing your wide eyes and the trembling of your bottom lip, he couldn’t help but do as you asked. He placed feathery kisses over the clean skin, fighting the shivers shaking your figure. Whining when he got up to leave, Seonghwa raked his fingers through your hair to calm you down, waiting with you until a head of damp hair peeked through the doorway, the stray fox instantly jumping onto the bed to cuddle into your side. Secured within Wooyoung’s arms, Seonghwa detached himself from you to hop into the shower.

Wooyoung’s lips grazed over your neck, pressing into your pulse point while his fingers caressed and squeezed at your waist and hips. “I’m sorry for hurting you,” he muttered shyly, pulling at your heart strings.

Your fingers carded through his dark locks, scratching behind his ear until pleased hums vibrated against your neck. “You didn’t hurt me, Youngie, it felt good, but... could you be more gentle next time?”

Wooyoung peeled himself away from you and nodded quickly, pressing frantic, open-mouth kisses all over your face while you giggled. You spotted your owner leaning against the doorframe, a towel wrapped around his hips and fondness painted across his features as he watched his two hybrids love on each other. You reached out in his direction and made grabby hands, a grin splitting your face in half when he moved towards you with a breathy chuckle.

Tucked in between the two men, you allowed their warmth to seep into your skin, the delicate kisses planted over your shoulders, neck, and face making your body shake with giddy giggles. You knew your heat would pick up again soon, and the desperate need to be bred would take over you once again, but for now, you allowed the comfort they gave you to lull you to sleep, their steady breathing guiding you into a pleasant dream.

Seonghwa rubbed soothing circles over your hip, gluing himself to your back and moving the blanket to cover you and Wooyoung’s shoulders. He noticed the other’s man’s gaze snap back up, previously fixed between your legs to follow the trail of cum seeping out of your used hole. As though he was a teenager who’d been caught watching porn, he tried playing it off by pretending to be asleep, but his exhaustion took over him and his breathing slowly evened out. Seonghwa simply watched him, endeared by the hybrid’s high libido, always ready to pounce on you if you gave him the chance. Wooyoung nuzzled into your neck, his arm thrown over your waist and his fingertips brushing over the other man’s skin. Seonghwa’s own drowsiness pulled his eyelids shut, the world around him fading away and Wooyoung’s meek mumbling echoing in his head as he drifted away:

“I wonder how it feels to be so full of daddy’s cum... I bet it feels nice.”

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