#whoa is this my music tag?

[thosepoorsoulswhodwellinnight]

I don't really have words

may his memory be a blessing

[mafuyuakgae]

a knife, a glove, and people who disappear

[doctorwhoisadhd]

i think more general music classes should include punk rock / metal as a genre

[a-can-of-soup]

Drawing of my fit from today when me and @bealzebubs-blog went into town. We got meowed at by two dudes, grown men, meowing at teenagers. We went into some cool alt shops. Had fun..... Not mentally ready to start college on Monday..... But whatever.

[theharddeck]

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone. 

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit. 

But. 

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app. 

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do. 

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play. 

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones. 

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena. 

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you. 

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy. 

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer. 

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter. 

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering. 

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.  

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip. 

Why did guys in real life never moan? 

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure. 

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low. 

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only. 

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you. 

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste? 

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy,  acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin. 

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.” 

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his. 

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?” 

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper. 

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you. 

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper. 

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him. 

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?” 

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds. 

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you. 

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly. 

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl. 

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy. 

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?” 

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against. 

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded. 

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.” 

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect. 

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there. 

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow. 

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.  

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to. 

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear. 

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set. 

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you. 

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door. 

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time. 

Some might even say, with a pep in your step. 

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed. 

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat. 

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly. 

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on. 

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing). 

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person. 

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets. 

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration. 

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze. 

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too. 

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise. 

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips. 

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago. 

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.” 

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock. 

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms. 

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it). 

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal. 

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before?? 

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot. 

A knock on your door startled you. 

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically. 

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door. 

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused. 

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it. 

He looked the same. 

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you. 

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills. 

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them. 

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral. 

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away. 

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse. 

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room. 

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced. 

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t. 

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room. 

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again. 

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it. 

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep. 

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react. 

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation. 

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again. 

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you. 

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly. 

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him. 

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob. 

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway. 

Of course he did. 

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately. 

Objectively, Bob was the best. 

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you. 

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you. 

He pushed himself off the bed. 

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either. 

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay. 

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it. 

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question. 

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break. 

You kissed him. 

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer. 

He was so soft. 

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him. 

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention. 

“Can I show you?” you asked. 

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry. 

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely. 

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous. 

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him. 

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard. 

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.  

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on. 

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze. 

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently. 

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you. 

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually. 

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked. 

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob. 

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered. 

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them. 

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett. 

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard. 

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him. 

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need. 

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch. 

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission. 

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations. 

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing. 

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing. 

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it. 

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric. 

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob. 

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again. 

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob. 

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering. 

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob. 

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking. 

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did. 

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled. 

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him. 

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.” 

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him. 

It was better with him. 

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing. 

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good. 

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there. 

You felt like you were floating. 

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him. 

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he? 

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life. 

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right. 

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips. 

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you. 

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself. 

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner. 

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin. 

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin. 

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned. 

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.” 

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had. 

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless. 

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered. 

He wasn’t done, either. 

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…” 

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses. 

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man. 

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace. 

You loved the feeling of his skin. 

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you. 

Fuck. 

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders. 

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric. 

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself. 

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him. 

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick. 

Holy. Shit. 

He looked like a work of art. 

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big. 

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl. 

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky. 

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat. 

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again. 

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact. 

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you. 

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him. 

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them. 

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking. 

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster. 

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much. 

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly. 

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot. 

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you. 

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more. 

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn. 

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect. 

Fuck, he felt so good. 

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon. 

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked. 

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.  

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.  

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything. 

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop. 

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.  

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying. 

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core. 

He knew, somehow. 

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising. 

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…” 

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him. 

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back. 

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop. 

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant. 

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him. 

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips. 

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you. 

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you. 

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips. 

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher. 

And then. 

And then he got close. 

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you. 

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it. 

When you came back, you were on your side. 

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.  

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction. 

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. 

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

//

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

[adverbally]

Don’t Ask Me What You Know Is True

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Second Chance”

wc: 1,005 | rated: M | cw: none | tags: accusations of infidelity, relationship insecurity, angst with a happy ending | title from “Never Tear Us Apart” by INXS

———

Steve is chatting with Nancy and Robin in the kitchen when Eddie grabs him by the elbow.

“Hey, Eddie! Having fun?” Robin greets him brightly. She’s on her fourth beer of the evening so the words come out a little louder than she probably intended, even with the noise of the party around them.

To Steve’s surprise, Eddie ignores her. He just leans closer to Steve’s ear and says lowly, “Can I talk to you? Privately?”

Steve turns to get a good look at Eddie. He can smell the alcohol on his breath, can see the tension around his eyes and in the set of his mouth, like he’s pissed off but trying to hide it. “Uh. Sure.”

To the girls, he says, “I’ll be right back.” Half of it gets lost in the loud music playing from the living room as Eddie tugs him in that direction.

Stepping carefully around the paper cups and abandoned snacks scattered throughout the house, Steve follows Eddie into the guest bathroom and closes the door behind them. It’s blessedly quiet in here compared to the chaos of the festivities they just left.

“Thanks for the rescue.” Steve sighs in relief and rubs at his temples. “I’m gonna have to kick everyone out soon if I want to be functional tomorrow.”

Eddie snorts derisively. “Everyone?”

“You can stay the night if you want, you know that.” It’s been months since either of them slept alone, with Eddie sleeping in Steve’s bed more nights than not. “Nobody will say anything.”

“What about Nancy?” Eddie spits.

Steve blinks at him across the bathroom, his brows furrowing in confusion as he tries to parse Eddie’s question. “She’s driving people home, so… no? Robin had a lot to drink so she might take the guest room, but she won’t care.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just keeps leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. The lights above the mirror make his dark circles and clenched jaw look even more pronounced.

Through the pleasantly tipsy haze surrounding his brain, Steve realizes that Eddie is actually angry, not just acting as an excuse to pull him away from his conversation. “Hey, are you okay? Did I do something?” He steps closer, reaches out to rest a comforting hand on Eddie’s bicep, but Eddie jerks away from his touch.

“Like you fucking care.” He sniffs furiously. “Like you weren’t busy flirting with Nancy all night–”

Steve interrupts, “Whoa, flirting with Nancy?” He had barely even seen her tonight, only getting about five minutes to chat before Eddie pulled him away. “Why the hell would I flirt with her when we’ve been broken up for three years?”

“You tell me.” Eddie’s eyes are hard and dark, with no hint of their usual warmth.

“I wouldn’t!” Steve’s chest feels like it’s about to cave in, his heart imploding and taking the rest of him with it. “Where is this coming from?”

Eddie points aggressively at the bathroom door. “I saw the way you were looking at her,” he hisses. “You’re obviously still in love with her, and she wasn’t exactly trying to shut you down now that she and Jonathan are broken up.”

“No, I love you. Just you.” Helpless tears are burning in Steve’s eyes as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s my friend and that’s it, I swear.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Eddie shakes his head with a rueful smile. His eyes are glassy, but Steve can’t tell if it’s because he’s about to cry or because he’s drunk. “I know you wanted her back. And now you’ve got your second chance. I was just… a placeholder, a distraction. Someone to keep your dick warm for her.”

A flare of anger erupts in him, almost worse than the hurt. Steve tries to tamp it down. “You really think that little of me? You think I’m someone who would just use you like that?”

“Why else would you be with me?”

Steve hears how Eddie's voice wobbles and immediately feels like someone has just dumped ice water over his head. He tries to soften his voice. “Eddie, I’m with you because you’re you. How could you be a placeholder for somebody else when you– you would overflow the place you’re holding? You would make the place yours.”

Not his most eloquent moment, but hopefully Eddie pays more attention to his tone than the specific words Steve is vomiting.

He steps closer to Eddie, reaches out like he’s letting a stray dog sniff his hand. When Eddie doesn’t lash out, Steve takes his hand and hooks their pinky fingers together. It feels like he’s making a vow when he tells Eddie, “You’re so much more than I ever knew I was missing. And what I felt for Nancy doesn’t even come close to how much I love you.”

Eddie won’t look at him but Steve can see the tears beading up along his lash line. “I don’t deserve it,” he murmurs.

“That’s the best part. You don’t have to.” Steve tilts his head, trying to catch Eddie’s eye. “I’m gonna love you anyway. No strings attached. Even when you drink too much and make an ass of yourself.”

With a chuckle, Eddie finally glances up at Steve through his lashes. “Yeah, not my finest moment. I don’t suppose we could forget this ever happened?”

“Not a chance.” Steve presses a kiss to Eddie’s forehead. “We’re gonna talk about this as soon as you sleep off your hangover.”

Eddie groans dramatically and drops his head onto Steve’s shoulder.

“Go drink some water and get ready for bed. I’ll start sending everyone home.”

“‘Kay,” he mumbles into Steve’s chest. “Love you. And I’m sorry for being an insecure asshole.”

Steve wraps his arms around Eddie. “Love you too. And you might be an insecure asshole, but you’re my insecure asshole.” Before Eddie can make an inappropriate joke, Steve tells him, “C’mon, the kids are gonna think we’re fucking in here.”

Eddie’s laugh has never sounded so sweet.

[moonlightspencie]

Sleepover

Description: Hotch wants the reader, but doesn’t know how to tell her. Maybe a night in will be of some assistance.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: none (but this is full of domesticity, jealous!hotch, mutual pining, and so much fluffy fluff)

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: originally posted on tumblr. then it resided on ao3. now it’s back on tumblr. (fun fact: it’s my favorite hotch fic i’ve ever written and my second favorite story i’ve done of all the fandoms i’ve written for. hope ya like it still)

If there was one thing Agent Aaron Hotchner was not, it was unprofessional. But, oh. If there was ever a time he wanted badly to be unprofessional, it was this moment right now. Y/N stood next to him, leaning in close to whisper in his ear as they stood in the kitchenette, looking out into the bullpen.

“You look exhausted. You need to go get sleep.”

He glanced down at her. His face was so close he could almost feel her breath on him. It was everything in him to not lean in and—

“Hotch, seriously. You can’t even focus for more than a minute at a time,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“I’ll be fine. It was just— a long case,” he finally managed.

She turned away, arms crossing. “You need rest. You beat yourself up more than anyone during this one.”

“I have a little boy at home to take care of before I can even think about sleep.”

She sighed, turning fully to face him. “Hotch.”

“Y/N,” he retorted.

“Fine. You know what?”

He turned towards her, arms crossing to mirror her.

“What?”

“I’m coming home with you.”

His heart stopped and face dropped. It took him a moment to process what she’d just said.

“Um,” he took a second to clear his throat, “I—Excuse me?”

She laughed, music to his ears. “That sounded so inappropriate. I’m sorry. I mean, I’m going to come watch Jack for you. You’re gonna get rest.”

“I’m your boss.” Hotch watched her face for a moment. “You don’t need to watch my son while I sleep.”

“You’re also my friend, and I’m offering my time, you’re not taking it. Besides, I’ve watched Jack a hundred times before.”

He only sighed, looking back over the bullpen, now nearly empty.

She turned again, leaning over. “You’re not gonna win this one.”

“Fine, but you need to get sleep at some point, too.” He looked back to her. “As soon as Jack is asleep, I want you to get rest yourself.”

“Will do, boss.” She smirked.

“Okay, go get your things, we’ll leave in a few minutes,” he said, watching her for a moment as she walked off.

She went to her desk, beginning to pack up what she needed, but not before Derek had to come over to stir things up.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he said, leaning against her desk on one arm. “Leaving so soon?”

“Soon?” She laughed. “We just had a hell of a case, I’m getting out of here.”

“Oh, man.”

He shifted, crossing his arms over his chest and sat against the desk.

Hotch walked towards his office, trying not to watch the pair talking. He tried to not pay attention how she smiled at him as he spoke, and how he always seemed to have the right words to say to get her to laugh.

“Why, what’s up?” She slung her bag over her shoulder.

“I was thinking about going to the bar. Wanted to know if a pretty lady wanted to tag along.”

Hotch threw his things in his bag quickly, trying to not think about Y/N talking to someone much younger… Childless… Not a widow. Someone he knew she’d be with more easily.

“Oh, so you only wanted me around for my looks, huh?”

He laughed, throwing his head back a little. “You’re worth a lot more than just that, sweetheart.”

“Aww, such a sweet boy,” she said, griping his shoulder. “I got some other plans for the night, though.”

“Oh yeah? Doing what?” He straightened up with a smirk.

“Ready?” Hotch asked, walking up behind her at the desk.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she responded, turning towards him.

Morgan’s face was stuck in a state of shock.

“Whoa, now hold on—”

“I’m going to watch Jack,” she said, cutting him off with a chuckle. “Don’t get too riled up, now.”

He smiled, almost laughing. “Alright. I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Morgan,” Hotch said with a curt wave. Y/N followed his lead, and then they were on their way out.

“So,” Hotch started as they stepped out of the elevator and walked outside. “You and Morgan?”

Y/N raised her eyebrows in shock. “What?”

They began walking to his car.

“Are you two… Because there are some forms you’d really need to sign if—”

“Hotch,” she stopped him, standing by the passenger side door as he waited by the drivers. “That is so not happening.”

“Okay, I just…” he trailed off with a shrug, opening the door as she did and getting in.

“He’s a flirt. There’s nothing going on between us.” She settled into the seat, buckling up. “Besides, I’m too busy trying to take care of you.”

She laughed and he couldn’t help himself but to join in. He pulled off, and started towards home.

“Thank you, by the way, for doing this,” he said, not daring to look at her with how nervous he suddenly felt about bringing her to his home.

“I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

“Jack is going to love this.” He chuckled, turning down his street. “He really looks up to you, you know? Thinks you’re hilarious.”

“Well, he’s not wrong. I am pretty funny.” She smiled. “I am, admittedly, a little sad I only get to hang out with him for a few hours, though.”

“Yeah?” he asked, pulling into the lot of the apartment complex.

“Yeah. He’s a great kid.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it for how childish it felt, he got butterflies this time when he turned to look at her. Before he could think about it too much, he turned the key and opened the door. She followed suit, walking behind him until they reached his door. He opened it for her, and she looked around.

“His aunt should be dropping him off here in a few minutes,” he said, closing and locking the door behind him. “If you’re hungry or need a drink, you’re free to get anything from the kitchen.”

“Thank you.” She smirked, watching him. “Why don’t you go get ready for bed?”

“I will.”

He chuckled, feeling like a little kid with the way she spoke to him. Then he paused, considering something for a moment.

Apparently the moment was longer than he realized.

“You got something on your mind?” she asked.

“Would you like to stay here for the night? I have a guest room, and this way you won’t need to catch a ride home. I could just take you to work tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at her bag. “I don’t have anything to wear. I mean, I have my go bag at my desk that I could always use for an emergency, but for the night—”

“If you need something, I’m sure there’s something of mine you could…” He paused, realizing what he was saying. But before he could backtrack, she had to go and flash him a smile again.

“If that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me.”

“I’m sorry if that sounded inappropriate, I—”

“Did you not hear me agree?” She laughed. “You worry too much, boss. Now go get dressed.”

He nodded, turning for his room. She walked over the couch in the living room, sitting down and leaning her head back. It wasn’t long before she heard a bedroom door open, and there stood the great Aaron Hotchner in an old t-shirt and baggy pajama pants.

“That’s a good look on you,” she said, looking up at him from where he sat.

He felt a blush creep onto his skin, and tried really hard not to think about it. He walked a little closer as she stood up, handing her a nearly folded pile of clothes.

“I brought you these. The shirt is extra baggy and comfortable, and hopefully the pants will fit well enough. They’re adjustable.”

“Thank you so much, this’ll be great.” She smiled up at him. “Room is down the hall? I’d like to get dressed and set my bag in there before Jack gets here.”

“Yes, right across from his room.”

“Okay, sounds great. Now, you go to bed. I’ll be here.”

He gave her a slight smile. “Right. Thank you, again.”

“You know it’s no problem. Now, goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said, walking off.

She grabbed her bag and the clothes, walking off towards the guest room. She set her bag down near the door, closing it to dress. She stripped out of her work clothes, slipping on his t-shirt first. She took in a deep breath and smiled: It smelled like him. She finished pulling on the pajama pants and made them comfortable as needed.

She grabbed a makeup wipe out of her bag and wiped her face, calling it good for an unexpected night out. Then, she heard a knock at the door. She walked out, looking through the peephole to see Hotchner’s sister-in-law Jessica standing outside with Jack. Y/N opened the door.

“Hey!”

“Y/N!” Jack squealed, throwing his arms around her. “What are you doing here?”

“Dad needed to get some rest, sweetheart. So, we get to hang out for the night,” she said, looking down at him with a hand rested on his back. “Thank you for bringing him.”

“Anything for my little man. It’s good to see you again,” she said with a smile, accepting a quick hug from Jack before he bolted off.

“You too, Jess. Have a great night.”

She waved a goodbye and was out the door. Y/N locked everything back up, and popped her head into Jack’s room.

“Hey, buddy.”

“Hi!” he said, turning around from where he stood at his dresser. “I’m gonna get dressed for bed. Then can we watch a movie? I already ate at aunt Jess’s house.”

“Yeah, of course, little man.” She nodded. “Do you want to go in the living room or…”

Jack paused, giggling. “Why are you wearing dad’s clothes?”

“I’m staying the night, bud. I needed pajamas.”

“You are?” he asked, eyes wide. “Can we go watch the movie in your room?”

“Yeah! Why don’t you finish getting dressed and brush your teeth, and then you can come in, okay?”

“Okay!” he exclaimed, quickly grabbing his clothes.

She turned, walking across to hall and into the guest room. She pulled the covers back, crawling underneath and switching on the T.V., finding her way to Jack’s Netflix profile, smiling at some of the shows he’d been watching. She picked an old movie she loved as a kid. It wasn’t long before she heard a door open, and little footsteps whipping around the other side of the bed. He crawled up under her arm, pulling blankets up to cover him.

Jack was watching intently, the movie only half over, when the creaking of another door piqued their interest. Hotch’s head popped into view a second later.

“What are you doing up?” Y/N asked.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He gave a shy smile, then turned to Jack. “How are you doing buddy?”

“Y/N said she’s staying over!”

“Yeah, she is.” He smiled, stepping inside the room. “How’s the movie?”

“I like it a lot. Come watch!” Jack said, patting the bed next to him.

“Buddy, I’m not sure that’s—”

“Please, dad?” he pleaded.

Hotch looked to Y/N, almost asking permission without saying a word. She nodded. He shuffled a little, hesitantly walking around the bed to Jack’s other side. He lowered himself on the bed, pulling the covers over his legs. Jack slipped out from under Y/N’s arm in favor of leaning on his dad’s shoulder. It wasn’t long before Jack was snoring, and as Y/N looked up to see if Hotch thought it was just as cute as she did, she noticed he’d fallen asleep, too. They looked so sweet sleeping there together that she couldn’t help but pull out her phone and take a picture. She set the phone on the nightstand, making herself more comfortable as she focused her attention back on the movie.

Early morning light filled the room when Hotch woke up. He glanced down to see his son cuddle up against him and smiled. He was still fast asleep. Then, he looked up. Y/N laid asleep, her body curled up on her side, facing him and effectively caging Jack between them. Her breath came soft and even, and he admired how she looked in his clothes as he saw her in the light for the first time. She was so close, and he longed to get closer, but couldn’t think on it long before her eyes started fluttering open.

“Hey,” she greeted, voice soft with sleep, and a tired smile gracing her face.

“Hey,” he said back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in here.”

She chuckled, rubbing her eyes. “No, it’s fine. I think he was happy to have you here.”

Hotch smiled, looking down at his son. He was out like a light.

Y/N leaned over, gently kissing Jack’s forehead before slowly and quietly getting out of bed. Hotch watched her, heart aching at how much he wished all of his mornings could start this same way. He shifted out of the grip of his son as she stretched out at the end of the bed, leaving the room with her.

“It’s still early,” he said, walking to the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

She trailed behind, taking a seat at the counter.

“That depends. Are you gonna make me breakfast if I am?”

“If you’d like.”

He smirked at her, and she smiled back.

“Tell you what, you work on the food, I’ll get coffee started,” she said, getting up and walking towards the counter.

He wordlessly agreed, pulling out some boxed pancake mix and stovetop sausage links. She removed the old coffee filter from the machine and set in a new one, filling it up with grounds. Hotch mixed up the batter quickly, heating up a pan.

The coffee pot filled, and pancakes were formed. Y/N poured two cups, preparing one to her liking and one to Hotch’s. Then, footsteps came shuffling into the room.

“Morning, sunshine,” Y/N said to Jack, smiling at him. “You want some juice?”

He nodded sleepily and climbed up onto a chair at the counter. She poured him some orange juice and set the cup down in front of him. He took a sip, watching his dad finishing up breakfast.

“Is that pancakes?” Jack asked, trying to peek around to see the pans.

“It sure is,” Hotch replied, throwing some pancakes on a plate and pouring out a few more.

Y/N set down the two coffee mugs on the counter, and took her place next to Hotch to move the sausage links around in the other pan.

“Almost done?” she asked him without looking up.

He moved the rest of the pancakes to the plate.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she said, glancing over and turning off both burners.

Hotch grabbed three plates, setting them down next to her so she could split up the sausage links. As soon as she was done, Hotch set to putting a few pancakes on each plate, and Y/N grabbed butter and syrup out of the fridge. He prepared Jack’s for him and set the plate in front of him with a fork. He then waited for Y/N to start the working on her own before he prepared his. She took a seat first, leaving a seat in the middle for Hotch. They ate quietly, sharing a few words when Jack wanted to talk about what he got to do at school the day before, and what he was looking forward to for the rest of the week.

“Hey,” Y/N, nudging Hotch’s arm as she pushed her plate away from her. “Could we get to the office a little early? I’m gonna have to get dressed there since my go bag is there and all.”

“Of course.” He nodded, sipping at the last of his coffee. He then turned to Jack. “Can you go get dressed to go to school, please?”

“Yeah,” he said, hopping off the stool and running off towards his room.

“I think I’m gonna put on my stuff from yesterday till we get there,” Y/N said, sliding off of her stool. “Not sure walking into the office in your pajamas would be a great look.”

“Maybe not the most professional outfit,” he agreed, laughing a little as he walked around the counter, putting dishes in the sink for later. “For the record, I think you look beautiful.”

She paused, feeling heat rise to her cheeks and butterflies in her stomach.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, arms crossing over her chest. “Looks better on you, though.”

And with that, she left to go change. Hotch waited in the kitchen for a moment, almost in shock, before heading off to his room to get ready for the day.

It wasn’t long before they were both showered and ready to go, Jack practically running out the door when his aunt arrived to take him to school. Hotch and Y/N drove to work in a comfortable silence, only the sound of the radio playing low. They arrived at the BAU, and went straight inside. Hotch went to his office, and Y/N was reaching for her duffel bag when the glass doors opened.

She looked up, not expecting anyone else to be there so early.

“Hey, what are you doing here? We don’t start for another half hour,” she inquired.

“Just needed to get some work done early. But I could ask you the same thing.” Derek smiled at her, then glanced at what she was wearing. “Hold on, aren’t those your clothes from yesterday?”

He inched closer, a slight smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I was just about to go change.” She held up her go bag.

“Mhm.” He crossed his arms. “What happened to just looking after Jack for a while? You decide you were finally gonna get after—”

“Derek!” she interrupted, laughing. “No! I just stayed the night with Jack in the guest room.”

He raised a brow. “And that’s all? Baby girl I know you’ve had a little crush on Hotch since you walked in here.”

She bit her cheek, looking away for a moment. “You’re nothing but trouble, Morgan.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

He stepped closer.

“Okay, fine.” She huffed out a sigh and lowered her voice. “We had breakfast this morning, with Jack.”

“And?”

She paused. “He also slept with me and Jack, but it was an accident. He didn’t mean to fall asleep there. We didn’t even touch one another, it was totally platonic.”

“Well, I am sure Hotch wouldn’t be sneaking into bed with me if I was watching his kid.”

“It wasn’t like that,” she said, shaking her head. “He’s totally not into me. You know how he is with work policy, and besides he is way out of my league.”

“You need to think a little higher of yourself.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She laughed again. “Now, out of my way so I can get dressed. I don’t need any more questions from the rest of the team.”

“Alright.” He stepped back holding up his hands.

“And Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“Do not tell anybody.”

She pointed a finger in his direction as she spoke. He only chuckled, taking a seat at his desk.

She went to the bathroom, changing out of her old clothes and throwing on some new ones suitable for work at the office. She put on a little makeup, threw on some deodorant, and called it good. She stepped out to a slightly more full bullpen, only a couple more people had arrived. She shoved her go bag under her desk, and walked over to the kitchenette table where Derek, Hotch, and Emily were talking.

“How’s it going, guys?” she asked, taking the seat next to Emily, across from Morgan and Hotch.

“Talking about yesterday’s case. The daughter of the last victim made it safely to her grandparents’ house,” Emily said, sipping at a mug of coffee.

“That’s awesome. I’m glad she had them to go to,” she said, leaning forward on the table.

“You need coffee?” Emily asked, looking to Y/N.

“Oh, no thanks. I got my share this morning.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did,” Derek said, holding back a smile.

“Morgan.” Y/N glared at him.

Hotch caught her eye for a moment afterwards, questioning. She slightly shook her head in amusement.

“What happened?” Emily asked, a curious smile on her face looking between Y/N and Derek.

“Nothing, he just doesn’t understand boundaries,” she said with a pointed finger. “Trying to blow things way out of proportion as always.”

This time she glanced at Hotch first, rolling her eyes a little. He smirked, looking down at his hands.

Emily watched the little interaction with interest.

“Does it have something to do with these two?” she inquired, looking back to Derek.

Y/N and Hotch spoke over each other.

“Nothing happened,” Y/N muttered.

“What?” Hotch questioned.

Derek looked to Hotch. “Can we go talk?”

Hotch furrowed his brow. “May I ask what about?”

“It’s nothing. It’ll just take a couple minutes.”

“Alright,” he said, standing up and nodding a quick goodbye to Emily and Y/N.

Derek followed after, throwing a devious look Y/N’s way.

Emily leaned over, speaking more quietly. “Something I should know about you and Hotch?”

“No,” she chuckled. “Derek is just… Himself.”

“Something had to have happened.” Emily turned in her chair, and made Y/N face her. “Spill.”

“I went to watch Jack last night so Hotch could get some rest. We had breakfast this morning with Jack, and he accidentally fell asleep next to Jack and I while we were watching a movie.” She sighed. “I told Derek, and now he’s freaking out about it like something happened.”

“Y/N. You slept at his house.”

“To watch his kid.”

“Wait, you said he fell asleep next to you and Jack.” A smile crept on her face. “Was that on a couch or in a bed?”

“Emily,” she groaned.

“Y/N!” Her eyes went wide. “How can you still think he’s not interested in you?”

“He’s not.”

“You’re both blind.”

Hotch led Derek to his office, only leaving the door a little cracked.

“You wanted to talk?” he asked, leaning against his desk. Derek stood in front of him.

“Yeah. About you and Y/N.”

“Morgan.”

“Hotch, I know you don’t want to admit it, but I know you’re into that girl.” Derek crossed his arms over his chest. “She told me about last night and this morning.”

“She was watching Jack. Nothing more.” Hotch shook his head. “This isn’t an appropriate conversation for work.”

“Work doesn’t start for another ten minutes.”

Hotch only stared.

“Look, I just think you should ask her out.”

“I’m not going to do that.”

“Why not?” Derek let his arms drop to rest on his hips, tilting his head.

“I’m her boss,” he replied, straightening up.

“But what is really the harm in trying?”

“She’s—” he started, and then paused, shaking his head.

“She’s what? Amazing? Gorgeous? Smart?”

“She wouldn’t be interested in someone like me. So, it doesn’t matter anyways,” Hotch said, glancing down. “We start the day in 5.”

“Great, that’s plenty of time.” Derek paused a second. “Why would you think she’s not into you?”

“I’m— I have a child, and I’m a widow. She doesn’t need all of that on her plate. Plus, she’s young. She’d be better off with somebody your age,” he said, looking up again to catch Derek’s eye.

“Man, you are so blind.”

Derek chuckled, shaking his head.

The day started as usual. The team had a briefing, and then went to work at their desks for a while. Today was going to be a slower day, and everyone seemed to be thankful they could get home at the end of the day. At lunch, Y/N noticed Derek and Emily talking quietly: she thought it was awfully suspicious.

“Hey, you two,” she called out, walking over to Emily’s desk. “Why are you being so quiet, it’s weird.”

Derek glanced up. “Nothing.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, turning to Emily in question.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.”

“You two are bad liars.” Then, she had an idea. “Hey, Reid.”

His head popped up, looking to her. “Yeah?”

“You’ve been sitting here next to them, what are they talking about?”

He looked lost, glancing around. “I—Uh… I have no clue.”

“Now, see, you I believe,” she laughed, ruffling his hair as she went past.

He frowned, quickly smoothing it back out. She headed off towards Hotch’s office instead, trying to ignore the whispers that has started back up.

She knocked quietly on the open door.

“Hey, you busy?”

She popped her head in to see him eating a sandwich at his desk.

He shook his head, swallowing a bite. “No, come in.”

She closed the door and went to sit at the chair by his desk.

“Derek has been weird all day. What did you guys talk about earlier? I can’t get an answer to save my life.”

His eyes went wide.

“What?” she questioned, noticing Hotch going more on-edge.

“Uh, it was— It was nothing. Just a work thing.”

“You know, you’re a really bad liar, too.”

He chuckled, looking away. “I just don’t think this is the right time to talk.”

She furrowed her brow. “What do you mean?”

He glanced up at her, looking her in the eyes, searching for an easy answer.

“It was just— It was about last night. And this morning.”

She groaned. “Great. I knew I shouldn’t have told him anything.”

Hotch just sighed, looking at her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d say anything,” she offered as an apology.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just that…” He let out a slow breath. “He brought up something that I think I want to talk to you about. I just didn’t know how to say it.”

“Okay, what is it?” she questioned, straightening up in her chair.

“He, uh, brought up everything from last night and this morning. And he brought up how that’s not something that I would normally do. Or something you would normally do.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean to make you uncomf—”

“No, it wasn’t that. It’s just,” he paused, watching her for a second. “I need to know if you feel the same way about me that I feel about you.”

Her heart was racing and heat rose to her face. She was breathless.

“W-what?”

“I’m so sorry, I know this is inappropriate, but…”

“What are you asking?”

“I just need to know how you feel. About me.”

He looked at her, almost pleading for the answer he deeply wanted.

“I’m— I think you’re amazing. I think you’re a wonderful father, and I’ve never met someone who makes me feel the way you do,” she began in a ramble. “I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’re so out of my league, but after talking to Derek this morning, and Emily, I just… I don’t know. I want to hope.”

Hotch furrowed his brow, and Y/N took in a breath, ready for rejection.

“You think I’m out of your league?”

“I mean… Yeah?” She tilted her head. “You’re really incredible.”

He couldn’t help but smile.

“Y/N, for profilers I don’t think we’ve been very good at reading one another,” he said quietly. “I thought I was the last person you’d ever be interested in.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m a widow, I’m older than you, I have a son…”

“A son that I love. I’d do anything for that kid.”

“I know.”

He smiled again, watching her. She couldn’t help but to smile back.

“As for the other stuff, I couldn’t care less. You’re so much more than that.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she continued to smile at him. “We really are pretty dumb, huh?”

“Very, apparently,” he agreed with a nod.

She checked the time. “Lunch break is almost over. I better go.”

He nodded again. “Yeah. Talk more later?”

“Of course.”

She waved a goodbye, walking towards the door. With one hand on the handle, she felt something grip her arm and spin her around. She was met with Hotch’s lips on hers, a kiss that took her breath away. They broke apart after a minute, both smiling like giddy teenagers.

“When I tell you that’s all I could think about doing this morning…” she began.

“Me too,” he agreed, looking into her eyes as his hand stroked her cheek. “Especially when I got to wake up to you in my clothes. It was killing me.”

She giggled, leaning in for one more kiss. It was slower this time, more gentle. She backed away afterwards, just enough to be able to speak against his lips.

“I think maybe we should thank Derek and Emily.”

“And let them feel like they won?”

“Good point.”

He let her go to get back to the bullpen, but as she attempted to turn the handle of the door, she was knocked back into his chest. Of course.

“You’re welcome,” Derek said with a smile after assessing what must have just happened.

“You don’t get credit for this,” Y/N laughed.

“Mhm. But it’s totally on me,” he said, raising a brow. He started walking back out, but not before… “Don’t you two take too long in there.”

FULL MASTERLIST

[sapphicvqmpires]

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ swallow (your pride)

Pairing - shuri/black fem! reader

Word count - 4K

Contains - smut (18+), slight choking, dom!shuri, sub!reader, strap on, reader is a brat, slight degradation kink, jealousy, fluff, cunnilingus, minimal plot

Key Words - nkosazana (princess), sthwanda sam (my love)

Divider From - @firefly-graphics

Sneak Peak - The first time you guys fucked, you made it abundantly clear to yourself and to her that she was just a one-night stand. She agreed, and only came to you when you asked. She fucked hard, but she did it with intent. The way she always took care of your needs before hers. The way she called you ‘princess’ and ‘slut’ interchangeably in bed. The way she almost fucked you like she loved you. All the reasons why your one-night stand turned into a two, three, four-night stand. But you were not hers, and she was not yours, and as much as you tried to push away the hot gooey feeling of jealousy in your core, you just couldn’t

Song Vibes - kiss it better (rihanna), sept 5th (dvsn), i.j.s. (dee gatti), awkward (sza)

Tags - @abenomeiiii

Writers Note: low key scared to post this but oh well, let me know if you enjoyed it! And let me know if you wanna be in the tag list for future fics :)

❁ཻུ۪۪♡ You allow your mind to get lost with the crowd, your body becoming syrup as you lose yourself in the music. Your head getting lost in the beats that pummeled through your veins as you chose to forget about your current dilemma. You were having a good time, up until the dilemma herself walked straight through the door. You instantly choke down tears, not because of the sight of Shuri, but because she brought another girl with her. Shuri’s arms are around her shoulder as they stepped foot into the house party.

The first time you guys fucked, you made it abundantly clear to yourself and to her that she was just a one-night stand. She agreed, and only came to you when you asked. She fucked hard, but she did it with intent. The way she always took care of your needs before hers. The way she called you ‘princess’ and ‘slut’ interchangeably in bed. The way she almost fucked you like she loved you. All the reasons why your one-night stand turned into a two, three, four-night stand. But you were not hers, and she was not yours, and as much as you tried to push away the hot gooey feeling of jealousy in your core, you just couldn’t.

You and Shuri make eye contact, but you look away instantly, hoping she didn’t notice the pathetic brokenness in your eyes. She probably wouldn’t care anyway. You rush to the alcohol table and thankfully find Riri, your best friend was there as well, responsibly sipping her from her red cup. She noticed the look on your face and understood immediately.

“Y/n, what’s wrong? Are you ok?”

This has a single tear instantly escaping your tear duct. You quickly wipe it away as you chug down some alcohol. You’re so embarrassed and ashamed of yourself. It was never supposed to be like this.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there. We both know you’re bit of a lightweight,” Riri teases. “What’s going on y/n? Tell me.”

“Ugh, I hate her!” you respond in pure frustration. Riri raises an eyebrow, allowing her face to pave way for what she was about to say, and you knew the exact words that were about to fall out of her mouth.

“I told you you couldn’t do it.”

You roll your eyes as you take another sip of your drink.

“You’re just not a one-night stand type of girl y/n, and that’s ok. You love, and you love hard. Not your fault Shuri can’t see she has the most beautiful girl in her grasp.”

You put your drink down and subtly looked over your shoulder to see if she was still there with that girl. Your stomach drops at the sight of them still together. Shuri’s arm is no longer on her shoulder but they are talking. Shuri towering over the small, petite girl in front of her before she notices your eyes studying her. You make no effort to look away this time, just angrily chugging the rest of your drink down as you maintain eye contact and make your way to the dance floor once more. You look around for someone to dance with you, spotting another girl that somewhat resembles Shuri with short, boyish curls and a tall, lean build. Attractive but not as attractive as Shuri.

“Wanna dance?” you ask the stranger.

“Uh, yeah sure. Why not?”

You grab the stranger by the wrist as you drag her to the dance floor. You let the music take over your body once more, now mixed in with the alcohol that is currently flowing through your veins. You don’t care. You’re angry and you want to piss Shuri off. Maybe that will get her attention. You dance with the stranger so sensually but she handles you well. You knew you weren’t being fair, you never wanted or asked for anything serious. Or so you both thought. You look at Riri from across the room, and she chuckles. Riri knows exactly what you’re doing but she’s all for it. You grind on the girl behind you, as she takes your hips and pushes you further into her crotch area. You notice Shuri watching you, her eyes dim with desire. Her eyebrows furrowed together in annoyance, as she makes her way towards you. Your gut grows hot, but you don’t stop what you’re doing.

“I can take it from here,” Shuri says to the stranger.

“I never said I was done with her.”

“I don’t give a fuck, move,” Shuri replied, her voice low and demanding, as she slightly pushed her off of you. The stranger rolled her eyes, and walked away. Shuri takes your wrists and puts your arms around her shoulders, your faces inches apart besides the fact that she’s slightly taller than you.

“You look good,” Shuri compliments, her eyes roaming the room and barely even looking at you. You roll your eyes in annoyance, scoffing as you try to let go of her grasp but she pulls you in tighter. She lowers her mouth right by your ear as she begins to whisper. “Where do you think you’re going, hm? Keep acting like a brat and I’ll show everyone what you really look like when no one’s watching.”

Her threat makes your body tight, as you grow dewy between your thighs. “You’re not the boss of me,” you reply with a challenge. Shuri’s eyes snap at you, a slight grin forming on her lips. She knows what you want. Your face softens at her demeaning gaze, making her chuckle. She loves the power she has on you and so did you. You grab her hand and slowly lead her up the stairs, making sure you make heavy contact with the girl she came in with as you make your way up.

“Don’t be mean,” Shuri says as she notices the death glare you give the other girl.

“Too fucking bad.”

Shuri snickers in response.

You guys finally find a secluded bedroom away from the thriving crowd downstairs. Shuri lifts you up as you wrap your legs around her, bringing you into the bedroom. You can’t help but smile, wondering if she can feel your sweet spot dampen against her. She places you on the edge of the bed, spreading your thighs open as she kneels down on one knee in front of you.

“You were being a brat downstairs, why?”

Her question catches you off guard, forcing you to swallow hard.

“I don’t like her,” you respond.

“You’re gonna have to be more specific with me nkosazana. I don’t have time for games today.”

“Stop acting like you don’t know who I’m talking about!” you snap back. “That girl you brought here to the party with you! Why would you do that?? You’re annoying for that,” you pout.

Shuri rolls her eyes as she lets out a breathless laugh.

“I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“You’re adorable when you’re angry.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“Mhm, yeah, you said that already, nkosazana.”

You let Shuri laugh for a bit, as she collects herself. You find no amusement in this.

“You done?”

“No. I don’t even see why you’re so angry about it anyway. You made it perfectly clear we’re not together. You said, and I quote, ‘this is just a one-night stand, don’t think about trying to fall in love with me and shit’”.

Shuri was right. That is what you said, but still. You couldn’t help that you let your damn emotions get in the way.

“Whatever. You were just using me for a good time anyway,” you scold. Shuri’s eyes grow dark. Her lips completely shut as she brings her face closer, her lips just brushing yours.

“You think that’s what I want you for?” Her voice is low and raspy. Her eyes are so full of desire adding more wetness to your already soaking pussy. She grabs you by the throat, putting slight pressure. “I could say the same about you, the way you opened your legs so easily for me like the bratty slut you are.” She lets you go of her firm grasp.

“Take that off,” she demands, pointing to your revealing dress. “Not that it makes a difference, you’re practically naked in that fucking dress anyway.”

You roll your eyes as your dress drops to your ankles, revealing the lavender lace underneath. Shuri’s breath hitches, bluntly observing you and your body, even though she’s seen it a fair amount of times already. Her eyes trail to the dark spot between your legs.

“Fuck baby, you’re already soaking.”

“Shuri please,” you whine. Your cunt is aching, and you can’t take it anymore.

“Don’t give me that. You made me watch you dance with another girl, who kinda looked like me, never mind.”

“You did it first.”

“Yeah yeah, now get on the bed, and spread open for me.”

You comply with ease. You rest your ass on the plush bed beneath you, as you spread yourself open to Shuri, revealing the damp spot on your lavender lace. Shuri grabs a chair and sits, manspreading as she gets comfy. She looks so good in her unbuttoned baseball-like jersey top, with her black Nike bra underneath, revealing her toned abdomen. Her matching boxers are peaking above her black, baggy cargo pants and you know exactly what else is hiding underneath. You study the way her boyish curls compliment her perfectly chiseled face, her jawline carved to perfection. Her gold adornments gleaming against her dark skin, it was all too much. No one should look THAT good.

“Touch yourself,” she commands, interrupting your moment of lustful admiration.

“But I want you to do it,” you sulk.

“We’ll get there y/n, but first I want a show. You owe me one after the shit you pulled today.”

You give in, pushing the lavender lace to the side, revealing your dark brown, glistening center. Shuri adjusts herself, her eyes fixated on your pussy. You take two fingers, lubing them with your wetness as you slide them into your plush walls. You slowly pump in and out, as your head dips back in pleasure.

“Uh uh, eyes on me. I want you to picture me with every thrust you give yourself, sthandwa sam.”

You obey, lifting your head back up to face her. You get lost in her almond eyes, as you thrust faster into yourself, determined to please the woman in front of you. Shuri’s eyes trail between yours and your dark center. The room is silent except for your soft, breathless moans and the squelching of your wet, throbbing cunt. Shuri loves the sound your body makes, she’s told you so many times before. You pull out for a second to play with your delicate clit, making yourself moan Shuri’s name. A viscous smile forms on Shuri’s lips as she watches the way you play with yourself and as her name shamelessly pools out of your mouth. She loves the effect she has on you and your body without even having to lay a finger on you.

“That’s right y/n, say my name. You're so pretty like this.”

Your gut begins to tighten as the familiar feeling rises in your core and down between your inner thighs. You picture the tip of Shuri’s strap circling your clit, as your eyebrows furrowed together and your mouth drops open. You were fatally close before you were rudely disrupted by the woman you were hoping to please.

“That’s enough.”

You shoot her a glare as you remove your fingers in confusion. The phantom of your impending climax lingering in both your gut and pussy came to a halt, making you annoyed.

“What? No, that’s not fair, I was so close Shuri,” you whimpered, almost crying.

“You whine too much baby. Come here.” She motions you to come sit on her lap, and you do. You spread your thighs over hers, your cunt lingering over her lap, as you face her, still annoyed. “What's the long face for? You did this. Not me.”

You stare at her, and even though you want to pick a fight, you know she’s right. You made it sufficiently clear to her that you didn’t want anything serious. Shuri was allowed to see other women, but you didn’t like that.

“Shuri…please.”

“What is it now, nkosazana? Talk to me. Tell me what you want. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t talk to me.”

You’re debating whether to take it the sexual way or if you should be real with her and as much as you hated to admit it, you wanted her. Every bit of her. You wanted to wake up next to her, and bring her flowers. You wanted to watch stupid movies with her and go to the arcade with her. You wanted her touch, but you wanted more than that. You realize this is the first time you’re admitting this to yourself. You sigh, breathing in deeply. You rest your head into the nape of her neck, admiring the tattoo there. She smelled so good.

“I just want you,” you muffle into her.

Shuri takes her hand and strokes your curls, being careful because she understands curl maintenance.

“See, was that so hard?”

You bring your face back up to hers, placing your lips on her lips. This was your first kiss. Not that you haven’t kissed her before, of course you have. But your first real kiss with her and it makes your cheeks flush.

“I almost want to say ‘I love you’ but it’s too soon for that,” you say, half-jokingly. Shuri’s eyes go from sweet to desirable in a split second, bringing her hand up to cup your drenched cunt.

“How’s she feeling?” Shuri asks, talking about your sweet spot that still needs to release itself. You gulp.

“She wants you.”

“Mhm. You can tell me you love me in other ways if you’re not ready to say it out loud just yet.”

You kiss her once more, this time more wantonly. She slips her tongue in, as you remove yourself from her lap. She pushes you onto the bed, hovering over you as her gold chain dangles in your face. She removes her baseball button-up, revealing her toned arms that you will never get tired of. She grabs your throat.

“You gonna be a good girl for once?”

You nod, desperate for Shuri to make her mark inside you. Shuri removes her cargos, fully revealing her Nike boxers and the strap she was already wearing. You weren’t surprised though. Shuri liked to wear it, she told you before when she caught you by surprise the first time. Shuri continues to undress you, sliding your lace panties off. She admires the lavender bra against your brown skin.

“I almost want to keep this on. It’s so pretty on you,” she coos.

“Do what you want, I just need you,” you say as your breathing picks up.

“Still needy I see.”

Shuri digs her face into your neck, placing kisses on your sensitive spot, earning a small moan from you. She smiles against your skin, proud of how well she knows you. She makes her way down, pressing her lips against your cleavage and your core. She makes her way to your inner thighs, as you thrust your cunt forward, making it incredibly clear where you want her.

“I’m getting there baby, be patient.”

She lifts your legs over her shoulders, making you more spread open to her. She soaks in the beautiful sight of your dewy hunger for her, diving into her prize. You’re already losing it, getting lost in the way her tongue understands you so well. You wrap your legs around her, locking her in and applying more pressure. Shuri grips your thighs as she eats away, winning filthy moans from your lips.

“Shuri baby, I’m so close. Pl—please don’t stop.” You wail her name unapologetically, as your orgasm approaches you. Shuri sucks on your puffy clit, sending you over the edge. The room goes white, and your stomach churns heat as your orgasm subdues your entire body. You release yourself into Shuri’s mouth, as you let her go of your tight grasp. She lifts herself off of you, your pleasure running down the corner of her mouth.

“You’re delicious, baby. You did so well.”

You lie there trying to collect yourself. Shuri notices this, and comes back down to kiss you, the taste of your satisfaction on her lips brings you back.

“I’m not done with you.”

“I know.”

“Let me know when you’re ready, nkosazana.”

You let out a few breaths, preparing yourself to be penetrated. And you know Shuri. She’s not gentle with it. But you love when she has her way with you.

“Ok ok I’m ready,” you say between heaving pants. Shuri lets out a crooked smile, as she grabs her girthy strap, taking the tip and circling your clit. You moan so easily, it’s almost embarrassing.

“Look at you, you’re just too easy, baby,” she teases.

“Just…please. Please Shuri, stop teasing. Just fuck me already,” you demand.

“Still such a brat.” She takes her strap, and puts it in you. Your walls welcome her in, expanding to accommodate her size. You always struggled a bit in the beginning, but you never wanted her to stop. You took the slight pain as it was easily replaced with pleasure with each thrust knocked into you. Your eyebrows soften, as you take her in. Your moans getting louder with each drive into your cushioned walls.

“You look so pretty when you struggle.”

You keep eye contact with her as she guides you through it. She knows how much you need her, and she’s going to give you exactly what you’re desperate for.

“You take me so well, y/n. So tight for me.”

Each thrust gets easier, as it usually does. You beg her to keep going, to keep pummeling into you.

“Please don’t stop Shuri. Please. I wanna cum.”

“Tell me you want to cum on my dick.”

You moan Shuri’s name a couple more times, trying to gather your thoughts together.

“Please baby, I wanna cum on your cock. I’m so wet for you.”

This sends Shuri over the edge. She loves the way you whimper for her. The way you take it for her. She digs her head into your neck once more, picking up the pace. She’s no longer being gentle with you, and your pussy is so open to her. You’re close. Shuri lifts her face off the nape of your neck, wanting to look you in the eye as you release yourself. You try to remain eye contact with her but it’s nearly impossible. Your eyes roll back and your head bucks backwards at her thrusts. Your whole body explodes and the room turns to colors as you cum for the second time. Shuri grabs your chin, and forces your eyes on her.

“Look at me as you cum baby, I know it’s hard. But do it.”

She fucks you through your orgasm and even through the after shock. You’re so overstimulated but you don’t want anything less. Finally, your body comes back to earth.

“I wanna try one more thing, if you let me,” Shuri says.

You look at her with those eyes. Those “fuck me” eyes, you always give her. It sends her over the edge. Shuri lies on her back as she strokes her strap slowly, rubbing your juices all over it.

“I want you to ride me. Think you can do that for me baby?”

Your eyes bulge, contemplating whether you can take her or not. It doesn’t take long before you make up your mind. You wanna feel her. You want her to ram into you so deeply, the words “I love you” fall out of your mouth. You don’t care.

You nod, as you sit on top of her toned core. You kiss her, right before you begin to slide it in.

“Wait,” she interrupts. “Turn around. I wanna see the way you stretch as you ride me.”

You obey immediately, turning your back against hers as you slide it in. Shuri has the perfect view of your plump ass and your curls falling down your back.

“Bounce.”

You do, and it feels heavenly. It goes so deep into you, immediately hitting your sweet spot. You bounce, as Shuri watches the way your pussy swallows her whole with each leap. That vision is enough to send Shuri into madness. She helps you get to your climax, thrusting slightly, making sure you do most of the work this time. You cry her name out, absolutely frantic.

“Come on baby, you have to work for it.”

You whine as your legs begin to cramp, your core muscles tightening. It was a workout. But you weren’t going to stop. You bounce like a pro, hoping Shuri notices. You lean forward a bit, giving Shuri a clearer view of the way your cunt opens and closes with each thrust.

“Oh yes y/n. Just like that. Just like the beautiful slut you are.”

You moan to her insult, bouncing harder as you reach your third of the night. Your head leans backwards as Shuri’s name falls off your tongue. You stop bouncing and just ride her out, moving your hips back and forth as Shuri remains inside you. You come back down from your high, releasing yourself from Shuri’s grip as you spill all over her.

“You did amazing y/n, we have to do that more often,” Shuri says through her heaving chest. Her sweat is glazed over her dark skin.

You put your panties back on, along with Shuri’s baseball top. Shuri puts her pants back on, as you crawl back in the bed with her. This part wasn’t new. You would usually end your “one-night stand” sessions in her arms, your head pressed into her chest as she holds you and engages in small talk. You two practically broke the rules of what was meant to be a one-time type of deal. But this time felt different. There was more love to it.

“Shuri?”

“Yes y/n?”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Shuri adjusts herself, her face inches from yours. “What do you mean, sthandwa sam?”

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you. I was supposed to have a good time with you, and then move on but then…” your voice breaks off, almost too prideful to finish what you were going to say.

“But then what?”

You let out a heavy sigh. “But then you got me so confused with fucking and making love. The way you did it was so rough and hard, but still lovingly at the same time? How is that possible? And then you would take care of me after, and call me all those cute names, plus you're so hot and beautiful at the same time? You’re just too much.”

“Oh, I’m too much??” Shuri teases. You roll your eyes for what seems like the hundredth time today. She loved to pick at you, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. You loved her, and it was time to swallow your pride for once. Shuri looks intensely into your eyes, trying to read you.

“What's on your mind y/n? Talk to me. I love hearing you talk.”

“I don’t know. I think I love you.”

A soft smile appears on Shuri’s face. She knows that it took alot for you to admit. She’s proud of you. She cups your face in her hands, bringing her lips to your forehead.

“I know you do, baby,” she says softly. “I love you too.”

This is it. You cup your head into her chest, inhaling her scent that still lingered there. She pulls you in further, placing kisses on your curls. Funny how magic happens when you swallow your pride. ❁ཻུ۪۪♡

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 17, Unanswered - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, Anxiety

Word Count: 612

Previously On...: Bucky missed his your check-in call.

A/N: ::Ominous music plays::

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when I update, please enable notifications from my Blog page!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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You found Steve lifting weights in the training room, a group of agents, both male and female, pretending not to be transfixed with the way his muscles glistened under the strain of more weight than any normal man should be able to bench. You ignored the whispers that built up as you walked toward him, no doubt dumb gossip continuing to spread after the release of those fucking idiotic articles. You wondered briefly if you could sue the publications for slander. Or was it libel? You never remembered the difference. 

This was America, right? you thought. Wasn’t litigation one of your inalienable rights under God and the Constitution and Santa Claus, or something? You made a note to talk to Legal.

Steve looked surprised to see you when you called out his name to get his attention, no doubt expecting you to avoid him like the plague, all things considered. “Hey, Pocket,” he said, a little too nonchalantly as he set down his barbell and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Don’t tell me you’ve come to ogle me, too.” He nodded toward the not-so-subtle group of agents. “I’m beginning to feel a little objectified.”

“Have you heard from Bucky?” you asked, wanting to get straight to the point. Steve looked at you for a few moments, just blinking, before you went on, your voice growing faster and more high pitched as you spoke: “I haven’t heard from him since last night, and I’ve been calling and texting him all day, but he’s not getting back to me. I never heard from him after the raid, and then after the articles… He missed our regular check-in, and I’ve been worried sick. What if something happened to him? What if–”

“Whoa, Pocket,” Steve put an arm on your shoulder, shutting you up and steadying you. “Calm down, okay? Take a breath for me.” He waited on you to do just that before he continued. “Buck’s just fine. He and Jade were successful in their objective, and they’re on their way home now. There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

His words took you by surprise. He was on his way home? “But… Why didn’t he call me back, Steve? All day, I’ve been thinking he either hates my guts because he saw those damned articles, or that he’s lying dead in some godforsaken Russian forest. And he’s just been completely fucking fine this entire time?”

“Hey,” Steve said, rubbing a hand comfortingly along your upper arm, “I’m sure he’s got a perfectly good explanation for not getting in touch,” he told you. “He radioed Communications from the Quinjet so, maybe something’s up with his phone. Don’t get worked up until you’ve talked to him, alright?”

You nodded, wanting to believe Steve’s words, wanting to let them give you comfort. “Did he say anything?” you asked him. “About the articles? Or give you a message to give to me?”

Steve shook his head. “No, I’m sorry, Pocket. He just said they’d successfully cleared their objective and they were on their way home. That’s it.”

You blinked repeatedly, not sure what to make of what Steve had just told you. The only positive thing you could take away from it was that Bucky was safe. He was safe and he was coming home. All other answers would have to wait.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded dumbly, “thanks Steve. I appreciate it.” You turned to head back to your room, thoughts spiraling until the only thing you could coherently think was: If Bucky had been able to get in touch with Steve, it wasn’t that he was out of contact; he simply hadn’t wanted to contact you.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[andiftheycare]

AU where Suguru’s an overworked salaryman and Satoru keeps stealing his umbrellas as a bad attempt at flirting.

Or the you swan he frog meme but make it a fic

☂️ Part one here, and also on twt

☂️ Part two point one below (because it’s now too long and I haven’t even covered everything I wanted to cover in part two)

Highly unedited as I’m writing this as I go and using no braincells.

Tags to be aware of: AU, squint and it’s a reincarnation au (more on this in part 2.2 and 3)

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

Over the weekend, Mimiko picks up a talisman at the local temple to protect Geto from evil.

Nanako laughs at her. She’s been in a perpetual state of amusement since Suguru briefly mentioned the thief to them, “Isn’t this too much?”

“Well, we don’t know what Geto’s dealing with,” she’s just partially offended.

“It isn’t a ghost, sis.”

“You don’t know that.”

Their quarrelling is soothing and familiar, and Suguru huffs while he ties the omamori to the umbrella, which now sports a blessing and a curse sitting next to each other.

He wonders if one will override the other. A cursed object protects the same way as a talisman, after all — its energy is just stems from a different source.

At least that’s what his grandma used to say. Mimiko beams at him when she notices the new decoration embellishing Geto's umbrella, and Nanako comes back to put a star sticker next to the printed curse “Just to make it more obvious.”

On Monday, it’s raining and raining, and Suguru finds that his new umbrella is indeed an old one. Or rather, he notices it because he has no memory of walking home under it the previous week.

It just bends on one side, so his left shoulder’s uncovered, but that’s fine, really. Hopefully it’ll make it less appealing to whoever can’t be bothered to leave him alone.

“Whoa,”

Turning isn’t the best idea he’s ever had. In a scale from one to dropping out of high school — which he almost did when he was eighteen and had a peculiar, stubborn way to see his future — he’d put this executive decision just below almost not getting a degree.

Piercing blue eyes find him instinctively and immediately. “I don’t want to turn into a frog.”

“Then leave my umbrella alone.”

A client enters the konbini. Gojo and Geto briefly acknowledge them — there’s music, there’s someone clearning their throat and there’s two set of eyes moving to see this guy trying to reach the rack.

Neither of them moves.

“You could’ve, I don’t know, picked something more terrifying.”

“Because you think being turned into a frog isn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Gojo latches his hands behind his head, “There are worst faiths.”

There were. Suguru once possessed a wicked fantasy for horrible scenarios. Now his brain just produces white noises. “Like what, spending your life simmering in regrets?”

“Yikes, that’s just being a loser.”

There’s another hesitant “Sorry, I need to—" that goes to the wind and birds and gods listening to men, but not to those two.

“Then you don’t need to be cursed, do you?”

“What do you mean?” He says, slowly, but Satoru knows exactly what he means, because he winces, and his stand wavers. “You don’t know me.”

True. He doesn’t.

However.

There’s familiarity in their bickering, a warmth in Suguru’s tongue when he speaks back to him, declining his language into its informal structures rather that the safe politeness that should shield them from getting close too quickly. “You sound lame.”

Gojo Satoru is six feet tall and he pouts. What the fuck.

“I could sound lamer.”

Suguru blinks. Okay, maybe Gojo's right, maybe his instincts are all pointing in the wrong direction here. He doesn’t know him. “That wasn’t a challenge.”

“See? That’s the problem there. You don’t know I like to win.”

The konbini’s client signs and leaves the umbrella on a corner, next to the coffee machine. As an extra in those people’s life, he understands his role and he’s there, after all, just to buy dinner.

“But why would you want to—“ Suguru cuts off. “No, actually, I don’t want to know.”

The other grins widely, “For instance, I could say,” he looks around, then dips his head closer to Suguru “Take me to dinner. That's a great way to get to know me better.”

Before Suguru could even process that, Satoru takes a step back, beaming as if nothing in the world matters to him but the sound of his own voice. “See? That’s already lamer.”

“Please don’t ever ask me out again,” Suguru begrudgingly takes his umbrella, which wasn’t stolen so maybe the amulet is working.

Of course, that’s wishful thinking.

The day after, the umbrella is gone and the omamori’s left lying on the ground like a sad autumn leaf. Suguru picks it up with care, huffing, putting it in his jacket’s inside pocket so for it not to get wet in his walk back to the office.

During the night, when all the buildings surrounding him are pitch black, and his screen’s light scorches his eyes, Suguru briefly thinks about ordering online a small umbrella to keep in his drawers.

Sipping on coffee, he ponders about it, and then the thought is gone as the numbers in his spreadsheet finally makes sense.

“Christ, why are you here?”

At that point, there’s little that fazes him. Gojo leans on the ice-cream fridge wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night. His suit — black, corporate abiding — is utterly wrinkled, and the man looks, for once, tired.

“I could ask you the same question.”

The other raises his shoulder. “I’m having dinner.”

“It’s past one in the morning.”

“Eh,” Gojo inspects the selection of ice creams in silence, and Geto doesn’t know what to do with this man’s silence.

Granted, they met twice, so he shouldn’t be bothered by it; shouldn’t be reading the lines of his face as if they share enough of a past for Suguru to pretend he can interpret Gojo’s spirits.

Weirdly, his stomach churns. It must be because he had barely eaten dinner too.

“You’re not having ice cream. It’s not a meal.”

“I am,” Gojo replies, unbothered.

“But why?”

At that, white hairs pops up and black lenses are directed in his direction.

“Won’t you feel like crap tomorrow? And you’d be hungry in what, twenty minutes?”

“I’ll just have another one.”

Suguru inhales. Why does he care, anyway?

“You should go home,” Gojo offers instead, fingers reaching to open the fridge. They’re long, Suguru thinks distractedly.

“You know there aren’t any trains.” Suguru says, “Besides, at this point it wouldn’t make sense. The journey’s too long.”

“So what, you’re sleeping in the office?”

A question he doesn’t want to answer. “By the looks of it, you are, too.”

“I live close by.” he doesn’t deny it, thought, which is telling. “You can crash at my place if you want.”

“I’m not—-"

Fetching for a triple chocolate diabetic threat, Gojo adds quickly “I’ll be out all night anyway so I’m not fishing for a hook up.”

A part of Suguru deflates, a bitter taste similiar to disappointment weighting his tongue.

If Geto cared about things being proper, he would’ve declined Gojo’s offer. But Geto adopted two children when he was in high school and moved all of them to a shitty flat in Tokyo as soon as he cashed his first pay check, so proper often doesn’t agree with him.

Also, he’d rather not sleep in a karaoke room that night. Or in the office.

“Yeah,” Suguru steps closer to him, closes the fridge. “I presume you’d like me to buy you dinner first, for that.”

There are few blinks, and a car crash happening slowly in Gojo’s features. He thinks that’s lamer than anything the man could’ve said or done. But he doesn’t want Gojo to know he’s somehow winning at his own self-inflicted competition, so he walks towards the drinks aisle “I’ll buy you a beer as a thank you.”

“I don’t drink!” Gojo sputtered “Give me your Line contact instead.”

“I’d rather not sleep at your place then.”

“I’ll delete it if you ask me to.” He’s eager, this man. He could and should look pathetic, truly, with those ridiculous square glasses and his all-over-the-place suit, but he isn’t. Which makes Suguru go oh, maybe he looks like this when he’s begging.

“And you could need stuff at my place. Towels and all of that.” He does a weird hand gesture that makes Suguru wonder if Gojo knows what you need to spend a night in an apartment that's not yours.

“All of that?”

“Buy yourself a toothbrush while you’re here.” Satoru continues, “but yeah, what if you need a special conditioner for your hair?”

“You use conditioner?”

Gojo scoffs, “You don’t?”

Instinctively, Suguru’s hand flies to his bun. “Should I?"

“Unfair.” Gojo hisses, completely hollowing his cheeks as he sucks on chocolate like he’s trying to hoover the dessert with his mouth.

Shades slide on his nose at the sound of Suguru’s laugh.

☂️☂️☂️☂️

A brief walk of fifteen minutes it’s all it takes to move form the jungle of office skyscrapers to one of high end flats.

Figures, the man’s dirty rich. Geto double checks the address when he arrives at the building with the floating pool.

There’s a flash of Gojo’s cocksure grin in his head. Yes. This adds up.

So Geto goes through the motions of getting in the elevator and finding Gojo’s flat, an open loft with high windows and immaculate forniture. Little attention goes to inspecting his surroundings as Geto hunts for a bed.

Code’s 241218. You’ll find fresh clothes in my wardrobe and you can use all products in the bathroom. There’s one in my room and a bigger one in the corridor. Any issues give me a call.

The space’s so neatly organised, however, that Gojo’s instructions end up being clear as a bell. He changes clothes and brush his teeth and he’s dramatically asleep few minutes afterwards.

☂️☂️☂️☂️

He sleeps until the morning and misses his first alarm, the one he set to catch the first train back home, grab a fresh suit and wish Nanako and Mimiko a good day.

Fuck.

It takes him a few seconds to match the white ceiling in front of him with his surroundings, Gojo’s voice a lingering memory in his head.

A warm blanket of sunlight bathes his body and, at seven in the morning, for the first time since Suguru has started working, the pleasure of a rush free morning sinks into his bones, and cracks something in his chest.

If Gojo was there, he’d kiss him.

He isn’t, so that’s fine.

Can I borrow one of your suits?

Suguru texts Gojo as he turns on the rice cooker, a techy model with a vast selection of settings that looks almost unused.

Suit yourself

You’re not as funny as you think you are

You’re wrong. I think you giggles and blushes reading my texts

I don’t giggle

Yet

While the rice cooker steams in a corner, Suguru inspects the content of the fridge and finds some eggs, a package of puddings and a sad looking carrot. That’ll have to do. Mirin, soy sauce and dashi powder are easy to find, and he can indulge in cutting the carrot to mix it with the eggs.

He cares little about being in someone’s else home. Maybe it’s because that flat is a liminal space resembling a showroom, rather than a real house. Suguru doesn’t investigate his surroundings — he values privacy — but he’s cognisant of how him cooking in Gojo’s kitchen blurs the lines of their acquaintanceship.

The eggs sizzles on a pan, and the door of the flat opens with a clicking sound.

“And who are you?”

Geto turns to the voice. There’s a boy standing there with a plastic bags in his hands and an annoyed, stony face. He doesn’t look a bit like Gojo, if only for being in his early twenties.

“I’m…”

The boy takes a picture of him, and quickly types on his phone with one thumb.

Suguru blinks. “What are you doing?”

“Google-lensing you.” The boy looks up, skeptical. Eyes are down to the screen again. A text pops up in Suguru’s phone.

Megumi doesn’t bite.

Bur looks like he could. Megumi scowls. “Why were you involved in an arson case?”

Suguru smiles politely, summoning some of his charms. “Would you like some breakfast?”

[thosepoorsoulswhodwellinnight]

like listen to this song in all its 2002 glory:

[dreaming-of-mossballs]

All of this, for a phonograph? - (Gepard x florist!reader)

Summary: After having an odd dream and unexpectedly getting a promotion, you head down to the Underworld in some weird journey of self-discovery that ends up in a whole lot of chaos.

▸ Genre(s): fluff, angst

▸ Word Count: 16.6k

▸ Tags: Gepard x reader

▸ Warnings: food mentions, violence, mentions of blood, crying, emetephobia tw, having to wake up early,

A/N: IM SO FUCKINGN TIRED.

I was not expecting to surpass my word count record. Anyways, sorry for the initial jankyness. I don’t write in present tense often

MOSSBALL MASTERLIST (psst more gepard here)

Sitting at a desk in front of a window, accompanied by a stained brass lamp and an old family photo you were certain had been lost (during the evacuation of Rivet Town), you watched the people of Belobog mill about the Alexandra Plaza beneath the setting sun.

You smile softly to yourself, laying your tired fountain pen to rest beside a variety of parchments that contained pictures of flowers you had never seen, and writing that didn’t quite make sense.

Something tugs at the corners of your mind to make you rise from your seat and tiptoe down the hallway towards the kitchen.

It was your kitchen, presumably.

The mahogany floorboards creaked softly in protest, but they were covered by the sound of the familiar sound of music coming from the phonograph you’d had as a child. It got louder the closer you got to the end of the hallway.

How you missed those old songs. You used to sit by the fireplace with a warm cup of milk, listening to the music while the flames flickered at you.

From the kitchen, golden light peeps through the doorway at you. Warm and comforting, it drips over the paintings and vases decorating the hallway.

It was so strange. This place felt like home, yet you had never seen it before in your entire life.

As you push open the door, your heart leaps and lodges itself directly in your throat.

Oh. It’s Gepard, you think, surprised.

He stands in front of the kitchen sink, a bright blue apron adorning his waist and shoulders, with dishwashing gloves to match. Bubbles from the soapy water floated around him while he worked, and then sank to the tile floor, where they disappeared with a few soft pops.

The oven light illuminated something resting on the top rack. You lick your lips; it was always a joy whenever Gepard decided to cook.

“Ah, good evening, honey,” Gepard says, discarding his gloves and resting them on the counter. “Are you finished for the day?”

Honey?

Something about that struck an odd note.

“Yep! All done,” you say, not quite knowing what you’re talking about. “I can rest easy now. Thanks for taking care of the dishes,”

You smile and bound over to his side in your slippers.

“I’m happy to hear that. The pie is almost done, are you feeling hungry at all?” He asks. He unties his apron, (which, you might add, looks very good on him) and pulls two plates out of the cupboard. You have two of everything, from spoons to mugs. It makes your heart flutter like a herd of butterflies.

“Um… gosh, this was unexpected. But pie sounds great!” You reply while bending down to peer through the oven door. Its crust was a wonderful golden color, just like the sun. “What kind is it?”

“Apple,” Gepard replies. He sidles up next to you until your shoulders are touching. You had a decent view of the hair on the back of his neck from here, which was slightly darker than the hair on top of his head. Definitely cute, you think.

The captain smiles gently at you, almost puppy-esque in the way his eyes search yours for approval. He tilts his head downward and—

Wait a moment. Why was he so close? What was going on?

—to slowly and tenderly place a kiss on your cheek.

Your heart threatens to reach escape velocity.

Whoa there, scooter. Keep it cool, now, you scold yourself.

“You’re always so generous,” you compliment, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You shut your eyes, and this time, kiss him gently on the lips. It felt so right, the way you combed your fingers through his hair and how you knew exactly what to do.

Gepard’s cheeks burn pink as you pull away. The color contrasted his blue eyes, which resembled rich, deep sapphires with icy blue highlights at the bottom. You stared at them dreamily, when suddenly a strange ringing invaded your eardrums.

Oh, that must be the pie.

You pulled some oven mitts that were the size of cookie sheets out of your pockets and turned back to the oven— which had, for some reason, been very curiously turned into a washing machine.

You whip around again, and this time your husband(?) is dressed in full military regalia. Gepard takes a few steps back and throws himself out of the open kitchen window, saluting you as he goes.

You were certain you lived in a two-story building.

And oh, the ringing. It was getting increasingly louder. You clamp your hands over your ears indignantly while scanning the room for the source of the noise.

Can we not do this right now? You thought. I just wanted some pie,

Gravity seemed to be playing tricks on you as the fog began to lift, pulling you out of your deep sleep.

You blinked. The strange building had been replaced by the wooden ceiling of the Eversummer Florist you were used to.

Phonograph… I need to get my phonograph so Gepard and I can—,

Groaning, you limply smacked the phone on your bedside table with your arm and turned to tuck the blankets back under your chin. But the damn thing rang again as if to mock you.

Huh. I don’t remember setting two alarms, you thought. You clicked your tongue on the top of your mouth, cringing at the dreaded taste of morning breath as you sat up slowly.

You picked up the phone, hazily coming to the realization that it wasn’t yours. The alarm’s label was titled, “surprise,” which was ironic, considering it was quite the unpleasant one. A picture of Artem, from the hit novel, Tale of the Winterlands, was set as the lock screen.

There was no other person whom it could belong to.

The old wooden door to your dorm swung open, slamming into your armoire, which you were grateful was already chipped at that point. The sounds of streamers and confetti poppers blasted through whatever peace of mind you previously had, and a group of people, all wearing green berets, invaded your room. They were waving party wands around like it was the last day on Jarilo-VI.

Speaking of Vaska, she was busy pushing her way through the gaggle of people. She squeezed her body out of the fray to stand right over you, her green eyes staring straight at you unblinkingly, like some sort of lizard.

“Congratulations, (Y/N)! You’ve been promoted!” She cheered at you through cupped hands. Before you had realized it, you’d shot out of bed in surprise, flinging your covers everywhere.

“What? Really??” You asked, your jaw agape. You were still in your pajamas, but you were far beyond the fear of being seen in them.

“That’s right,” Meg, your boss, remarked. She was strict, but rather kind. “You’re now the general manager of the Eversummer Florist!”

She did have some odd ways of celebrating, though.

“Unless… you’d like to turn it down, of course,” she teased with a shrug.

“WAIT—! No, there’s no need. I would like the promotion, please,” you blurted. Vaska chuckled as she watched you scramble to put on your slippers,

Meg planted her hands on her hips sassily. “As I thought. Now, can you give everyone a thank you for giving you such a lovely surprise?”

“Thank you, everyone,” you gave them a toothy grin. A few whoops and cheers erupted from the back of the crowd.

“There’s a cupcake for you downstairs,” your boss added. “Pick it up whenever you like. Anyway, have a nice day off, kiddo. You deserve it more than anyone,”

“Aww, thank you so much!” You exclaimed. A cupcake sounded wonderful.

Meg tuned right around and whisked herself out of the door from whence she came. Everyone else followed suit in a single file line, like a group of ducklings. That made you chuckle.

You opened the blinds and peered outside. Icicles coated the power lines and hung from the roofs of houses, announcing the upcoming Solwarm Festival with their appearance. Meg probably had an ulterior motive, seeing as Belobog hadn’t held a Solwarm Festival in years— and Vaska had a particular penchant to break down under pressure. She could probably use another person to help ensure the festivities went smoothly.

You scoffed confidently at the challenge. With you and Vaska on the job, there was nothing on Jarilo-VI that could take you down. It would be a good way to show off your newfound skill at the job as well.

But as you stood there, woozy from the forceful wake-up and experiencing the overwhelming need to pee, your brow furrowed.

What exactly do I want to do from now on?

The question came hurtling entirely out of the Snow Plains, punching you right in the nose.

Yes, you had moved to the surface and become some sort of flower tycoon. And you were as sure as you could be that you liked your job. Plus, you had even gotten a promotion. To the position of general manager, of all things!

But had you really put any thought into what your future might be? You had been given the opportunity to move to the surface by the ADCS (or Administrative District Civil Service), and you had taken it.

After a year of living here, you now had a few more things to consider. Did you want to move back home? Surely not after getting a promotion. Your boss would kill you.

Additionally, you weren’t necessarily homesick. Life in the mines was largely nomadic. Where employment was, you would follow. You didn’t miss the hacking cough you’d develop during the winter from the rock dust building up in your lungs.

Friends didn’t stay too long either. You all had to eat in some way or another, and work wasn’t always guaranteed for people who traveled together.

Maybe you could help expand the flower business? Or even get an apartment of your own? Perhaps officially studying mechanical engineering might be the way to go…

All these thoughts made your brain feel like it was going to split. You sighed, plopping back down on your bed before you remembered Meg had given you a pile of flyers to hand out two days prior. They advertised the Solwarm Festival and its details, a good source of information for anyone who wasn’t privileged enough to have experienced the festivities.

You had meant to give one to Natasha, since you weren’t sure how well news travelled from one floor to another. Plus, since Rivet Town was mostly safe again, you could probably pick up your phonograph from your old home.

Rats, you thought. So much for my day off.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

The streets and buildings of Belobog’s Administrative District had a light dusting of snow on them, much akin to the powdered sugar they put on the pastries they sold at the local café.

Alexandra Plaza was certainly filled with things to do, including, but not limited to visiting the Neverwinter Workshop, seeing a play at the Golden Theatre, and taking a tour of the Belobog History and Culture Museum. It was nothing short of incredible. Of course, there were a fair amount of activities in the underworld too; they would just be considered less than legal to the people up here.

You munched on your cupcake as you meandered your way to the rail car, the one specifically tasked with bringing denizens of Belobog from one level to another as thoughts flowed through your head. They’d fly in like birds, then disappear without a trace, so you had no time to dwell on them. Ones about your future, your old home, and the expectations you had for yourself.

What is it that I want, exactly?

You weren’t quite sure. You shuddered. That dream earlier had really shaken you up.

They say people dream about what they want the most, you wondered. But was it realistic in the slightest? You didn’t think so at all.

A cloud of frosty air rose in front of your face as you let out a heavy sigh. As you were reaching the ticket gate, you rounded a corner and nearly knocked heads with an older woman. She wore a maroon leather jacket trimmed with brown mink fur that brought attention to the hood and sleeves.

She glared daggers at you, pulling her tote close to herself and mumbling something about “soot-dwellers.” Meanwhile, you did everything in your power not to let your eyes roll out of your sockets.

Straightening your back, you hopped onto the rail car, leaving the Overworld and your worries behind you.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

As the rickety screeches of the elevator subsided, you felt like you were on cloud nine.

The underground was as familiar as the back of your hand. Although you’d spent a fair bit of your years as a vagrant in the mines, Boulder Town had an air of nostalgia to it as well. The miners used to gather there for a meal and a drink after a long day’s work (although it was mostly for a drink, if your memory served you correctly).

Soot and iron flooded your nostrils in waves as you walked around the northeast corner of town. The faraway shouts of the Fight Club arena, along with the hearty laughter from the miners in the tunnels, could be heard.

And how you missed this feeling! The sighs, the smells, the feeling of belonging. It all brought memories flooding through your brain. You missed singing and dancing around a campfire with other workers— arms around each other’s shoulders, mugs of bread soda in hand— while also competing to balance as many items as you could on Peak, the lazy miner (the record was 17).

A common saying from the old folks was that Geomarrow could make your blood run hot. And honestly, you believed them. One glance around the city hammered in the impression of hot-blooded community you felt. Geomarrow was the lifeblood of Belobog, and you were proud to be a part of it every step of the way.

Surface-dwellers could never understand it, you thought to yourself smugly. But you would never say that aloud.

You blended in seamlessly here, no mannerism you’d learned as a child going forgotten. You fell back into your usual swaggering gait, patting the backs of every old friend you came across. There was Seele, arguing with some poor member of Wildfire right next to the grocery stand; Hook, who was running at full speed alongside two other children, and you could’ve sworn you spotted a flash of someone with dark blue hair and green eyes before they vanished into a dark alleyway.

Old neighbors and colleagues greeted you, which made you smile. In the Underworld, there were no formal titles that you had to remember. Nobility? Never heard of it. If you were self-made down here, it was no joke.

Speaking of self-made, Miss Natasha was the real deal.

After nailing a good amount of posters to the walls, you dusted the soot off of your hands and headed towards the local clinic. The shopkeeper’s bell rang as you entered.

“Hi there, Miss Natasha!” You waved, the fliers pressed tightly to your chest.

The clinician smiled gently at you. “My, my. It’s been a while, (Y/N). How’s life been treating you?”

She stood front and center of the small, cramped room. Only a few cots were occupied; your favorite one next to the Geomarrow heater seemed to beckon you to come and have a seat.

“Quite well, as a matter of fact,” you chirped. “How about you? It looks pretty empty in here… although I guess that’s a good thing,”

Natasha chuckled softly. “I’ve been healthy, thank you kindly. One of the miners actually had a baby last week,” she placed down the vial she had been holding onto a nearby table.

“That’s wonderful!” You responded, clasping your hands together. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

One of the flyers slipped out of your arms and floated slowly to the concrete floor.

“Shoot. Actually, I came down here to give you this,” you said, sheepish about your faulty attention span. You handed her a flier, which had an illustration of a bright orange Solarflower bouquet.

Natasha let out a gasp and placed a hand in front of her mouth. “My goodness. They haven’t held a Solwarm Festival in many years. I didn’t think there would be one ever again,” she beamed at you. “I would be honored to attend, (Y/N),”

You bounced happily on the balls of your feet. Somewhere in the background, the shopkeeper’s bell rang, but the noise was quickly submerged by your other thoughts.

“I’m so glad!” You jabbered on and on. “Make sure to stop by the florist’s for some free suncakes. We partnered with a local bakery this year, so hopefully we can draw in lots of business. And—,”

Natasha’s red eyes flickered towards the clinic entrance behind you for a split second, which made you pause and turn your head slightly. And oh boy, were you glad you did.

Because standing in front of the clinic door was none other than Captain Gepard of the Silvermane Guards, surrounded on both sides by armored soldiers.

The captain locked eyes with you for a moment before you decided the Geomarrow heater in the corner of the room was the most interesting thing you’d ever seen in your life.

Gepard’s eyebrow raised at you quizzically.

“Miss Natasha,” said Gepard. “The Fragmentum monsters in the southernmost part of Rivet Town have been taken care of. Is there anything else you’d like us to attend to?”

He shot another glance at you. There you stood— hands behind your back while bouncing from one foot to the other— decidedly not looking at him. You prayed to Qlipoth he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off your cheeks from his position.

It felt decidedly strange running into him like this. You stood on one side of the room in front of a few raggedy cots, and he stood on the other, soldiers ready to back him up at a moment’s notice less than a foot behind him.

Just like the day you came to the overworld, you felt completely out of place.

Natasha pressed her hands together with a pleased expression. “Wonderful! I believe you’re all set to go for today. Thank you all for your service,”

Her smile practically lit up the room. Gepard nodded. “It’s the least we could do, Miss Natasha,”

You took the opportunity to take a small sidestep towards a rack of scrubs to hide behind.

Natasha, almost certainly sensing your jackhammering heartbeat, turned towards you, effectively gluing you to where you stood.

Shoot! She’s like an apex predator,

“So… Captain. Have you met (Y/N)?” She inquired casually. “They were one of my biggest helpers back in the day, in fact,”

You jumped in, a hint of nervousness present in your voice. “Yes, yes. We’ve met before. We’re well acquainted— and um, friends, I guess?”

You muttered a quiet, halfhearted “yeah” under your breath. You couldn’t see the soldiers’ eyes under their metal visors, but you could guarantee they were eyeing you with major secondhand embarrassment. They probably had no idea you two knew each other. Or maybe they thought that some weirdo from the underground was cozying up to their captain. Decidedly awkward, you thought.

One of them let out a raspy cough, which brought you back to your senses.

“It’s really best I get going,” you told your old caretaker. “I have to pick up an old family heirloom at my old place. Nice seeing you, Gepard,”

You smiled as best you could, but to Gepard, it appeared as if it were made of ice. Compared to how much you usually talked, the room felt frigid in the absence of your chatter.

The captain wondered what the reason could be for such visible uneasiness. But he forced himself to keep his lips shut. Now was not the time.

Natasha gave you a reassuring pat on the back as you floundered around in your head. Better to let the youngsters sort themselves out, she thought. It was about time you learned, anyway.

“Oh, before I forget,” Natasha added. “Be sure to take care around that area, dear. You may need clearance to enter. Maybe you should bring someone along with you?”

“Right, sounds good,” you replied, glossing over the last half of what she had said. You wanted to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. But Gepard’s incredible generosity could not be thwarted.

“Perhaps us guards could come with?” He offered.

You punched yourself mentally at not hightailing it out of there earlier.

“I’m sure its fine. There’s really no need to trouble yourselves—,” you said, waving your arms about.

Gepard didn’t falter in the slightest. “The leader of Wildfire herself said it may be dangerous, and it is imperative to us that the safety of Belobog’s citizens is ensured. We’d like to help if we can,”

Ouch. He was right on the money. Natasha’s powers of suggestion were seriously unmatched. The instructions her smile hid were very, very thinly veiled.

Your shoulders fell as you deflated. “Okay, fine,”

Gepard dipped his head, and all the Silvermane Guards tapped the butt ends of their halberds on the floor in unison, causing the ceiling to shake. A ceramic vase tipped over, causing the flower inside to meet its unfortunate end. You looked at it mournfully.

“Wait—,” you paused. “How many of you are coming, exactly?”

“As many as you need,” Gepard replied, tapping his fist to his chest.

You felt a wave of panic rising in your throat at the horrifying vision of being surrounded and jostled around by an entire squad of soldiers. “Oh, there’s no need for you all to come. Just one or two is fine, thank you,”

You imagined your old neighbors peering out their windows at you and gasping at the notion that you had been arrested.

“…you know what? Maybe just one is fine,”

“Understood,” said the captain. “You four may go back to your posts. I’ll accompany (Y/N) to Rivet Town,”

You cursed the goddess of fortune for choosing this exact moment to smite you.

Normally you’d be happy to see him, but all of these soldiers standing around were giving you a major freak-out. To make matters even more stressful, each of these people directly served the Supreme Guardian.

Of all people to have a gigantic crush on, why’d it have to be one of Belobog’s most incredible and amazing people?? You sighed. Why couldn’t you have fallen for that weird guy who stood by the Everwinter Monument every day? He was waaay closer to your league.

You gave Gepard a queasy thumbs-up.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

Humming an old mining song was the only thing keeping you distracted from Gepard’s shining presence beside you.

Now that the other guards were gone, it should be alright, you thought. But you couldn’t bring yourself to start a conversation for some reason.

Easy now, (Y/N). Yes, the object of your unrequited love is walking right next to you. But it could be worse. It could be an automaton Direwolf!

So why was it so damn hard to talk all of a sudden??

He didn’t look like a Direwolf, even though he was as tall as one, you thought. You narrowed your eyes at him as you walked to double check.

Gepard glanced down at you with a questioning “hm” that almost made you keel over.

Curses. This was overwhelming.

Additionally, your original hypothesis was proven correct a few months ago. Gepard was a big softie at heart. He’d even get down in the dumps when his flowers would inevitably die (which hadn’t happened recently, thanks to you.)

You wondered if he ever worried about other people’s opinions. He was so kind and considerate, it pained you to imagine him getting the brunt of public backlash as such an influential figure.

Knowing him, he probably didn’t. But if he did, he would likely hide it to avoid burdening others. He wasn’t exactly the type to expose his soft underbelly, after all.

You hoped that if anything came up, he’d consider reaching out to you. The man who was Belobog’s iron defense always went above and beyond for the people. But he ought to have someone looking out for him, too.

Scoffing at yourself, you shook your head. Gepard really brought out a slew of worries in you. You did your best to swallow down the lump in your throat when suddenly, you were hit with the nostalgic smell of your old favorite food cart.

Was that grilled olm?? Your mind kicked into high gear. Your stomach let out a loud growl as if to protest the fact that you’d only had a cupcake for breakfast.

You turned to your companion with a pleading look in your eyes. “Oh man, I’m starving. Gepard, would you mind if I made a stop for some grub real quick? I promise it won’t be long!”

“Not at all,” he responded. Without a second to waste, you took off running towards the corner of town where all the food stalls were gathered.

Gepard looked from afar with a pensive look on his face. You’d always held a sort of confidence in the way you walked, but here, in your second hometown, you flitted from stall to stall with an aura of familiarity he had never seen before. You had no problem dodging obstacles that cropped up from nowhere; Gepard, however, felt like his limbs were made of wood as he tried in vain to catch up to you. His eyes had widened hilariously as he stepped into a pothole and his arms went flying in the air.

“Oh my gosh,” you exclaimed while offering your arm out to him for balance. You bit back a laugh at his flushed cheeks. “Would you want to sit down while I wait in line?”

He accepted your offer graciously, and took a seat at one of the low-seated tables by a chain link fence.

You gawked as you watched the Silvermane Guard Captain willingly plant himself at a kiddie table. Gepard could barely fit his knees under it, making him stick out like a giant rock crab.

But you were rudely jostled from your thoughts, as just when you were about to order, two men shouldered right in front of you. You recognized the red leather jackets they wore, symbolizing they were fight club combatants.

Ugh. Scott’s boys. Many knew all too well about his unsavory business practices. Some got involved because they had no choice. Others joined because they wanted the power. You had stayed far away from the institution, preferring to run with a more respectable crowd.

One of the men had chopped brown hair and messy stubble, while the other had blonde hair cut in a mullet. Although you couldn’t tell he was blonde at first, because almost every strand was coated in coal dust. You pinched your nose shut at the smell of motor oil and grease.

They were busy chatting up the vendor with no hint of shame at what they’d done. Your eyes narrowed as you saw one of them shoot a glance at you out of the side of his eye.

They knew damn well what they’d done.

You weren’t going to take this shit from a couple of Luka wannabes, you decided.

Before the brown-haired man could finish ordering, you rapped him on the shoulder harshly. He paused for a short moment to turn his head towards you.

“Excuse me,” you said with a hint of disdain. “I couldn’t help but notice you happened to jump the line,”

The man turned without so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. “…and a plate of Belobog sausages with extra sauerkraut—,”

Your eye twitched.

“Hey, you,” you interjected, tapping him again. “The line starts back there. Have you considered getting your eyes tested?”

“It’s just food, love,” he replied. The man paused for a second to spit a glob on the ground next to your shoe. Your lip curled in disgust.

“I see your mother never taught you manners,” you hissed.

The people behind you were starting to murmur.

You clenched your fist at your side as you stared him down, but before you could break his nose, you remembered that Gepard was still sitting by himself at the kiddie table.

You sighed. It probably wasn’t the best idea to get into a fight in front of a refined young noble such as himself. He might have a heart attack.

Unfortunately, the brown-haired man wasn’t finished with you. He grabbed your coat collar and yanked you towards him as his companion snickered. You could make out every scar and every bead of sweat on his face.

Sheesh. Overkill, if you ask me.

“Look man, I’m sorry, okay?” You scowled. “Cut in line all you want. You’re the big man. Happy now?”

Okay, you had to admit that wasn’t the best apology in the world. But you would’ve vomited had you made it any nicer.

He snorted, reaching a calloused hand towards your messenger bag. “Yeah? Well, I oughta teach you not to—,”

You scraped the front of his shins as hard as you could with the inside of your steel-toed utility boots.

The man roared like a wounded bear and released your collar, enabling you the opportunity to push yourself away. As he fought through the haze of pain, he readied his stance to fling himself at you, when Gepard’s metal gauntlet pushed against his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

“Do we have a problem here?” Your companion asked.

His blue eyes narrowed threateningly at the man, who was currently fighting Gepard’s iron grip. If the captain had let go at that moment, he would have absolutely torn you to shreds.

Murmurs began to erupt from the crowd, such as, “Why is the captain here?” And “serves him right,”

The man snarled again, frothing at the lips. This time, he went for Gepard, wrapping both hands around his throat. You witnessed his expression contort in surprise, and your hackles raised higher than they ever had.

Thinking on your feet, you grabbed the nearest plate of food— which happened to be Frostweave Salmon with cocktail sauce— and threw a large fillet at the man. It hit him square in the face, temporarily stunning him. Sure, it wasn’t a taser, but it was the best you could do.

His blonde-haired companion, having a better sense of self preservation than he did, yanked him backward and away from Gepard. One downward glance at his plethora of medals told him all he needed to know. He signaled at his friend to retreat for the time being, and they slunk away, shooting glares full of venom at you as they went.

You snuck a peek at the vendor, who was currently cowering behind the condiment station. She motioned to you with her hand:

Just go.

Slipping a few shields on the counter for the trouble, you sped off towards Rivet Town once more.

•┈••✦ ❆ ✦••┈•

“Want one?” You asked Gepard. You held up a limp fillet about 20cm away from his face.

“No, but thank you for the offer,” he declined politely. Your cheeks were still flushed with heat from the subsiding chaos.

“I appreciate your help, by the way,”

“Think nothing of it,” he said, in usual Gepard fashion. The captain’s forward gaze didn’t waver in the slightest.

You soon reached the Rivet Town checkpoint run by two automaton hounds and a few vagrants with shovels. After quickly looking over your papers, they allowed you to enter the premises.

Ever since the disaster, the town had remained eerily silent. Even though it was safe, the only noise you could pick up was your own footsteps. You were so used to the background noise of gears grinding and metal squealing loudly, that the fact that you could hear your own breathing made a chill creep up your spine.

The creepy ambience aside, the salmon was awfully bland, you thought, while munching solemnly. The texture was that of something that had been frozen and thawed multiple times. You were disappointed the quality had dipped so low since you’d left.

“(Y/N), are you feeling alright?” Gepard’s voice rang out of the blue.

You nearly choked on a chunk of fish. “What? No, why?”

He looked at you with horror in his eyes. Realizing your mistake, you jumped in faster than you could say “chicken and mushroom skewer.”

“YES. I mean, yes! I’m okay, why do you ask?” You crammed the rest of the salmon in your mouth and tossed the empty plate in the nearest dumpster.

“Please excuse me for being intrusive, but you’re usually… a bit more talkative, perhaps?” Gepard said, scratching his chin. He had an instinctive desire to rest a hand on your shoulder, but you seemed farther away from him than usual, both physically and emotionally.

“I guess I do, huh?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “I’m okay, just a little tired, I guess. Thanks for worrying, though,”

Gepard’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, but he didn’t want to intrude.

Meanwhile, you lamented at your emotional communication skills rivaling that of a five-year-old’s. You’d better pick up the slack before he started to suspect something.

As you continued on your not-so-leisurely stroll, you came across an open clearing, with nothing but a single food cart in the middle. It seemed to be fully operational, with steam still rising from the griddles.

The sight completely baffled Gepard.

“What reason would a food cart have to be all the way out here?” He asked.

“Oh, that?” You said, turning to look at the cart. The sight would’ve appeared completely eerie to a normal person; the cart had no wheels, and yet there weren’t any visible marks indicating it had been dragged from somewhere. “That’s Belobog Burritos, of course!”

“Belobog… Burritos?” He wondered aloud.

“Yep. It’s a food stall that’s kind of an urban legend. Been here as long as I can remember,” you shrugged. “It sits there every day, no owner or anything, but there’s always freshly made food. Even when the town went under, it was still up and running,”

You waved your hands in his face in a vague gesture that he assumed was supposed to be spooky. His irises made a concentrated effort to follow your every motion.

“…or so I’ve heard,” you continued. “Apparently, if you get something from the stall, you have to pay in full or some seriously bad stuff starts happening to you,”

Gepard cast a stiff look back at the cart, feeling his blood run as cold as ice. He suppressed a shudder and continued walking. But the thought kept weighing on his mind as he walked. He felt as if there was a lump in his throat, preventing him from breathing in all the way.

Jeez, he looks pretty shaken up, you thought as you stole a glance at him after a few minutes. His face was a few shades paler than it had been previously, and his neck was all stiff. It looked like he was trying his best to not be scared (and failing miserably).

Maybe you could hold his hand to make it less scary, a part of you whispered slyly.

You beat that internal voice with a sledgehammer as soon as it surfaced.

I guess I’ll check if he’s okay,

You tried to lay a hand on his deltoid, but completely missed and firmly patted his lower back— which was much more intimate a gesture than you’d attempted. Gepard’s shoulders flew upwards in a flash as he curled them in towards his chest, and his eyes blew wide open.

“Gyeep!” He let out a strangled shriek through clenched teeth.

Your jaw fell open.

“Oh, shit!” you stammered. “I didn’t mean to— I mean, are you alright?”

His armor rattled with how heavily he was breathing as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Sheesh, you had never seen him this shaken before.

Gepard’s face burned like a furnace. “I’m perfectly fine. Just ill at ease,” he said, pulling a handkerchief out of his coat pocket and dabbing at his forehead with it.

That didn’t do much to convince you that bringing him had been the right idea. You sighed. Gepard really was too kind for his own good.

Holding out your elbow at a right angle, you made a small offer to reassure him.

“Want to hold on to me until we get there?” You asked. “It’s okay if you’re scared, you know,”

You glanced around at the old, ruined buildings, which were surrounded by barbed wire and rubble. The whole area felt hostile, even to you.

“I don’t blame you, honestly. This place is pretty freaky,” you said with a short laugh.

“Okay,” Gepard paused. “If it’s alright with you,”

You smiled warmly at him. “Go ahead,”

He raised his arm and gingerly placed a hand on your bicep, curling his fingers slightly around it for a better grip.

“There! You have nothing to fear now,” you said reassuringly. Gepard blushed. He wanted nothing more than to beat himself up for falling apart in front of you in such an uncouth manner.

You continued walking towards your destination; this time, his heartbeat felt a bit more relaxed with you at his side.

After a short while, the ruined structure of your old home appeared looming from the dark. As a monument to the destruction, the skeletal building almost seemed to reach towards the false sky above.

“Quaint, isn’t it,” you joked, turning towards Gepard. Looking at the house in its entirety, the shutters were missing from the windows, the roof was nonexistent, and the chimney had been mostly reduced to a pile of bricks. It was entirely unsalvageable from a realist’s perspective.

The captain studied your features carefully— you showed no traces of hurt or anger that would normally be present at such a scene.

It puzzled him, how you were able to maintain such a cheerful demeanor when a building that was supposed to represent comfort and safety was torn completely to shreds. He was filled with admiration at how well you had held yourself together.

“Let’s go in,” you said. You nudged away the splintered wood door with your elbow and stepped into the building— you really hoped it hadn’t been ransacked while you were away.

Gepard’s hand dropped reluctantly to his side. He followed suit, scanning the interior for any structural instabilities.

“What are you searching for?” He inquired.

You were busy bending down over a fallen bookshelf with books scattered in its midst. You analyzed the wreckage; a few ceramic teacups and saucers lay crushed under the impact zone, which you took care to avoid.

You brushed a few coal-black cobwebs out of your way that made you want to pull your skin off. “Just an old phonograph. It meant a lot to me as a kid, so I figured it was time I went back for it,” you said, not bothering to mention the dream you’d had that morning.

As much as you wanted to deny it, it almost felt like the phonograph was the one part of the dream that could come true. Hearing the music you listened to in your childhood again wasn’t a hard thing to accomplish, but that lovely, soft feeling that had blanketed your heart when you had realized that Gepard was waiting for you in that kitchen— you didn’t think you could recreate that.

Considering your dream would never, ever happen.

You felt disappointment form a hard lump in your stomach.

When did I start believing in a pipe dream? You wondered. Natasha would scold you for chasing such nebulous goals.

“I got a promotion recently too. I was actually considering moving out and getting an apartment instead of staying at the florist’s. It gets crowded there sometimes,” you said offhandedly.

“You got promoted?” Gepard replied, his eyebrows arching in surprise. He hadn’t heard anything about this, even with Serval serving as the best grapevine around.

“Yeah, I did!” You said happily. “I totally forgot to mention it because—,”

I’ve been avoiding you since we went to the museum, whispered your inside voice.

“I… wanted to surprise the others,” you drabbled, your shoulders drooping the slightest bit. But you picked them up as fast as you could.

“Of course,” he said. “You have my sincerest congratulations,”

That sent another pang of guilt through you. He was so incredibly earnest. And here you were, lying straight to his face in order to keep him at an arm’s distance. All because your own feelings were too much to handle.

You needed something to take your mind off the situation, and quickly.

“Hey, check this out!” You said with a little more artificial enthusiasm than you’d intended. “This photo is practically ancient!”

You hoisted an old sepia photo of you and your grandmother in front of your chest. You were watching her lift a tray of cookies into the oven in the kitchen. There was a huge variety of sweets, including chocolate buckeyes, and coconut macarons. You missed her baking more than anything.

In the picture, your grandma wore a simple lilac apron, decorated lovingly with white lace around the edges. It was incredibly well-made; you’d had trouble finding one of similar quality ever since (even though the goods were supposed to be super high-end in the overworld).

Gepard, however, had lost all ability to speak, completely blown away by the piece of your past you had so voluntarily let him see.

You looked so joyful as a child, completely free of expectations that would have been bestowed upon you had you been raised as a noble, like him. That wide, toothless smile held treasures he couldn’t even begin to fathom.

“So cute…” you muttered softly. You quietly removed the picture from its frame and slipped it into your bag, where you felt it rest alongside your old pickaxe that you brought with you everywhere.

Running a quick check in the tiny hall closet, you thought you heard the high-pitched sound of ice cracking in the kitchen.

Weird, you thought, poking your head around the corner to take a better look. But what you saw nothing short of baffled you.

An ice-type Fragmentum creature, donning the damaged apron of your beloved grandmother, stood in front of the oven range. The kitchen itself was mostly intact, save for a few boxes of grains scattered about and a few appliances knocked over.

“Oh,” you started. “Son of a—,”

The creature let loose a gurgling sound from its throat and charged at you.

“Shit—!” You yelped as you scrabbled around for the nearest weapon. All reason leaving you, you completely forgot about the pickaxe in your bag. In the few seconds before it reached you, you took notice of a rusty frying pan hanging from a holder on the wall. Mimicking Gepard, you swung it with every drop of strength in your body and landed a forceful whack on the side the monster’s head.

The sound of metal on metal rang out all through the house. Bits of ice fell off the creature, sizzling with eerie smoke as they hit the tiled floor.

The figure struggled to regain its balance, reaching its icy claws toward your face. You could feel the icy chill radiating off of them, stealing your heat away.

That’s my heat, you bastard!

Gepard, having certainly heard the commotion, came speeding into the room like the cheetah he was named after. You were clinging onto the back of the monster, which was bucking you around like a Voidranger in a futile attempt to dislodge you.

In a sudden burst of effort, it flung you backwards and sent you careening into one of the cabinets. Bits of rotten wood showered on you from the impact, and a stray spice bottle hit you on the head. You disgustedly spit out the sawdust that had snuck into your mouth and caked your tongue.

The captain desperately scanned the room for something to use. The kitchen was far too small to activate his shielding device, so he wrapped his arms around the nearest table and hurled it straight at the icy foe (all while praying you wouldn’t be furious at him afterward for ruining your kitchen).

Thankfully, the table made an excellent weapon. It sent the monster sprawling across the floor with a creaking groan. Gepard then launched himself at it and pinned it to the floor with his arms.

Unfortunately, the enemy hadn’t quite given up yet. It wrestled one of its arms free of Gepard’s grasp and reached its clawed hand to slice at his lower legs. In a strange fit of ingenuity, you grabbed your pickaxe out of your bag, wedged it under the Fragmentum creature’s head, and just like a bottle cap— you twisted its head clean off.

Letting out a sickening crack, the monster’s head rolled leisurely across the floor and bonked into an open cabinet door. You nearly vomited at the sight.

Now unoccupied, Gepard rushed to your side. “Are you—,” he started.

“Yeah,” you choked out. “I’m okay,”

You clutched your chest while letting out wheezing gasps.

The captain glanced around the area worriedly. “I think it’s best we get going. There could very well be more monsters around here,”

“Wait—,” you gasped, scrambling to your feet. “I think— I think I found it,”

You peered into the cabinet that had been violently smashed o pieces. Something glinted at you from the debris— but a grinding sound came from outside that made your hair on your neck stand completely on end.

Bending down, you brushed away the wood chips from the spice cabinet and successfully uncovered the old phonograph. It was in decent condition, aside from a few screws missing, and your family’s record collection lay right beneath it.

“Ah, classic gran,” you said aloud. She did have a habit of putting things in the wrong places, after all. That saved you from having to check the upstairs floor.

“Okay, now let’s go,” you declared. You crammed as much of the device as you could into your bag, the horn still handing out of the flap, and made a mad dash for the front door. Gepard’s armor rattled as he followed suit.

We better tell the guards about this, you thought while your feet pounded against the pavement. Your breath condensed in large clouds as your throat burned with the taste of iron.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to see if Gepard was still following, just in time to see his eyes widen in horror.

Your boots left long marks in the dirt as you skidded to a halt. There you stood, aghast, as you realized what greeted you wasn’t the exit— but an automaton Direwolf.

It stood tall and menacing, with steam pouring out its joints and pistons that fired like a heartbeat. As a piece of technology from the old world, no one fully understood how they worked, not even denizens of the Robot Settlement, who modified and repaired them for a living. It made dealing with hostile ones a living hell.

“By the Architects,” Gepard swore. “(Y/N), find somewhere to hide, quickly!”

You obliged, opting for the nearest shelter that happened to be a pile of crates and barrels to the right of him. You crouched like a bear cub with your knees pressed to your chest as you tried to get a grasp on the situation from your location. Your companion was gearing up to ready himself for battle.

Shit. I need an opening to activate Earthwork, Gepard thought. He hoisted the barrier-device-slash-guitar-case defensively. I have no one to cover for me here,

The aggressor made of meshing cogs eyed him ominously through its crosshair. He eyed it back, the gaze of a predator in his eyes. He refused to falter, even minutely. Doing so would mean death for the both of you.

It raised its one chainsaw arm with a thundering roar, and the battle began.

The earth shook tremendously with every step as it sped forward, full-throttle. Gepard’s heart thrummed as he tried to consider all his options, but it was closing the distance faster than he could formulate his thoughts. He couldn’t roll right or risk giving away your position, or dodge too much and risk leading it towards the settlements. But a solid hit to one of the leg joints would slow it down considerably.

The automaton Direwolf swung ferociously at the captain, cutting large glowing divots in the nearby boulders that sizzled as they touched the surrounding air. Steam hissed, loud and high-pitched in your ears, bringing out a type of instinctual fear from within you.

A grimace crossed Gepard’s features. Direwolves were built for speed, so there was no chance you could both outrun it. Additionally, there was nothing that could escape the gaze of its optical sensor with so little cover around. He was going to have to fight it head-on.

It raised its mechanical arm to strike once more. The captain grasped his battering ram firmly by the handle, and swung it in a large arc. It landed a solid blow in between the metal plates that comprised its abdominal area, and sparks showered in the air, suggesting a sufficient amount of damage had been dealt.

The now open wires sizzled as the automaton staggered backwards. Gepard wasted no time seizing the opportunity; he was relentless in his following sequence of attacks, aiming for the most vital points concealed within the machinery.

He ducked under its flailing limbs and struck a heavy blow on the machine’s back. But it swiveled its torso around unexpectedly, without moving its legs even a millimeter, and swung at him again, leaving deep scores in the earth. Gepard skidded out of the way, leaving his cape billowing wildly behind him with the following dust cloud.

Your eyes flickered around the area as clangs and thuds rang out around the clearing. You reached a mitten-clad hand out tentatively to slink along the ground, but retracted it as white-hot sparks showered your exposed forearm. You had to make your next move, and quickly.

There was no way Gepard could win a battle of endurance. Not even with his superhuman amount of stamina. You almost called out to him, but halted when you realized it could easily draw the Direwolf’s attention to you. And you had nothing but your old pickaxe in your bag to defend yourself with.

You had to get help. It made no difference if it was the vagrants with shovels or the entirety of the Silvermane Guards. You had to make sure Gepard got out safe.

You ran a quick scan over the area; there were a few other piles of debris that were sizable enough to stay out of the monster’s field of view. If you could just make it to the exit, you’d be free to call for help.

Ducking your head, you sprinted to the closest pile and dove behind it. You snuck a quick peek at the scene. Gepard was still holding his own. Good.

This time around, you hid behind a barrel laying on its side. A patch of metal lattice fell over with a loud crash due to the shockwaves of the fight, but the machine paid you no mind.

Finally, you resorted to shuffling on your hands and knees to crawl just out of view behind a tarp that was almost threadbare. By this point, your pants were ripped and your knees were bleeding, picking up bits of rocks and glass that stuck to your sticky skin. But you ignored it. You were in the homestretch. The guards couldn’t be too far away now, they had probably heard all the commotion and—

You heard a loud thud that made your limbs completely freeze over.

Trembling, you turned ever-so-slightly behind you. You caught sight of a stray barrel rolling over to bump itself on your foot, followed by a pained groan that stole your breath right from your throat.

Gepard?

In the dim lighting, you could vaguely make out a figure clad in silver and gold, laying limply against a wall, a few broken crates on each side. Fire flickered in the background, illuminating the barrier device laying discarded on the ground, just out of arm’s reach for him.

You noticed something drip down slowly from the top of his head and soak into his fur collar, staining it a bright crimson. His eyes were closed, and he was showing no signs of moving.

Blood… that was definitely blood.

Time seemed to grind to a halt around you. Your knees threatened to give out, and you could only vaguely make out the sound of your own voice— screaming, wailing— something that wasn’t quite words. The sounds from the enemy machine sounded muffled, as if they were deep underwater, in a world different from your own.

Shaking profusely, you became aware of just how much fear had saturated your body. But you had to keep moving. The captain was alive until proven otherwise.

And you would hang on until the very end.

You ground your teeth together and made a quick sweep of the area. There was a package of dynamite that miners used to blow apart piles of debris to your right, but you had nothing to light it with. Even if you did, you didn’t trust your aim enough to keep Gepard out of the blast radius. To your left lay some books, a radio, and— an oddly shaped rock?

Whatever. It was just the right size for throwing.

You stuffed it in between your arms and pushed aside another book just in time to spot one of the old flares the miners used to use.

Yes! That could be your saving grace.

Your arms wavered so much that you thought that they might fall out, but you had to keep going. Gepard’s life was on the line.

You whipped back around and cranked your arm back far as it could go, when suddenly, you felt something whir and vibrate in your palm— and a strange mechanical voice rang out in your ear.

“Hello,” said the voice, which seemed to be coming from your palm. “I am Findie, model 17703 of the home-finding series. Please input your instructions, and I will locate whatever you are looking for!”

You whipped the rock(?) in front of your face. One of the gears rotated, as if it were waving “hi” to you.

“What the FUCK??” You roared in surprise.

A rock was a rock, no matter how much it yapped, you decided. You twisted the cap off of the fuse, wound your arm up, and chucked the rock with the fury of a blizzard.

“Over here, asshole!” You screamed. Your fear tore through your body like a tornado, threatening to tear you apart.

Fury rolled off of you in waves as you held the fuse high above your head. Clouds of red smoke rose into the air and billowed around you, swirling around your dust-covered face.

The rock landed square on the machine’s metal head with a loud tang.

The machine turned towards you menacingly for a short moment, but immediately refocused on the prey directly in front of it.

Shit. That was bad.

You scrabbled on the ground for anything you could get your hands on. A lantern? That would do. A plank of wood? Why not. Who gave a shit at this point??

Anything that would get you out of there and safe and sound. You’d promised you would help Serval with an invention later that week, and you weren’t one to break your promises.

The items bounced off of the machine one after another. It would halt its movements every time one made contact, but you were running out of things to throw.

Tears and ash clogged your eyes, but you wouldn’t let up, even for a second. Not until every bone in your body was forcefully broken and you were bruised and battered into next month.

“Get your GRUBBY HANDS off of him!” You roared. Tears and snot were streaming down your face now, and your entire body screamed at you to run, escape, anything. But you forced your feet to stay rooted to the ground where they were.

Gepard’s head lolled weakly to the side. You choked as you assumed the worst had come to fruition, and you felt as if the world was crumbling around you.

You were in the middle of chucking a portable radio at the thing when you heard the smattering of feet heading in your direction. You gasped as a wayward antenna poked you right in the eye.

Soldiers. And a lot of them, at that.

Guards in Silvermane uniforms stormed the clearing, waving around halberds, cannons, and muskets galore. Without wasting a second, the cannoneers let out a barrage of attacks that nearly blew both of your ears off.

“Backup is here, Captain!” One of the soldiers announced. You spotted a slight movement from the spot where he lay.

Another wave of firing went off. Cannonballs embedded themselves in the joints of the machine, inhibiting its movement— it began to creak and sway on its feet. Evidently enough, it realized that the most imminent threat came from the squadron of soldiers that had arrived, rather than Gepard, who was likely unconscious.

The main soldier continued issuing orders. You watched him, completely enraptured, from behind. You hardly noticed as a Silvermane gunner snuck up from behind you, and shuttled you somewhere out of harm’s way.

Soldiers had successfully managed to surround the automaton, impeding its movement. The Direwolf stamped its feet in confusion at the sudden commotion.

Shots rang out once more, and several nets weighed down by iron balls wrapped around the machine— along with a grappling hook that tied its legs together with a cord. But the machine sliced through the feeble wires with little effort.

As you took a step back, something clanked against your thigh from inside your bag. You gasped, turning to the soldier beside you with a realization.

“You have to disable the control panel,” you said, recalling your previous knowledge of when you worked in the mines.

“We’re more than aware of that,” he said curtly. He turned back to the battlefields without as much as another word.

“Yes, but the door to the panel is impervious to attacks. Could you take out the optical sensor on its face, maybe?”

The guard sighed, but shouted to the nearest cannoneer to aim a shot towards its face. An explosion burst from the area where the attack had landed. The automaton was now twitching violently with its sensors disabled.

Gepard, who was slowly regaining consciousness, sensed the sudden halt in activity. It was far noisier than it had been previously, the shouts of men and the clanging of metal made his head throb with pain. Sticky red liquid coated his falling eyelids, staining his vision red. The captain ignored the pounding in his skull and forced himself to his feet.

I… have to… I’m… still.. needed…

His body groaned with effort. He fought through the haze of pain and commanded his eyes to focus.

Earthwork was just a hair’s breath away. All he had to do was grab it.

Qlipoth… give me strength!

The captain mustered every ounce of courage in his body, bracing his arm against a nearby wall for support. Blood dripped down his face with even more fervor, but he wiped it off with his glove, sending a few small droplets smattering to the ground.

“The captain— he’s alive!” One of the men cheered. You gasped as you saw him stagger to his feet.

Gepard willed his muscles to move and dove in between the machine’s legs. He snatched his weapon and spun, quickly smashing it in one of its knees. The Direwolf lost its footing and toppled over immediately.

“Captain, use this!”

Gepard swiveled, surprised to hear the voice coming from not one of his own soldiers, but you.

Your pickaxe sailed through the air and clattered on the ground at his feet.

“Use it to break into the control panel on its chest,” you instructed with a shout. “There should be an emergency off switch right in the center!”

He grabbed the tool, but instead of using it to pry open the door to the circuit breaker, he punched it repeatedly with the metal gauntlet on his right hand until the steel door crumpled like a piece of paper. Your jaw dropped in shock at the sheer ferocity of the sight.

Clinging to the machine’s torso, Gepard scanned the machine’s chest cavity for the switch. But bundles and bundles of wires blocked his view.

The gigantic machine began to rumble. Gepard had to act, urgently. There wasn’t enough time to search for the switch, but he had to do something.

As thoughts fired through his brain like lightning, he had an idea. He could use the pickaxe to hook under the wires and pull them out. If he used his hands, his metal gauntlet would likely act as a lightning rod and thoroughly fry him, but the pickaxe’s handle was entirely made of wood. It was a decent shot.

The captain held the pickaxe with both his hands and used it to dig under the nest of wires, using his legs to anchor him to the machine— and yanked backwards until the threads snapped. He did it again, this time winding them around the pickaxe like spaghetti before pulling once again.

The machine fizzled and popped, its lights flickering before finally succumbing to the damage and collapsed, leaving enormous dust clouds in its wake. You covered your mouth with your shirt to avoid breathing them in.

Gepard’s chest heaved with great effort, and three guards hurried to his side, immediately, shouting things like, “Captain, are you injured?” And “Captain, we were so worried!” You were surprised at just how much emotion the usually stoic guards’ voices held when dealing with their leader.

The young noble let out an enormous sigh of relief. As soldiers practically swarmed him on all sides, one offered their shoulder for him to lean on, and they hobbled back towards the Silvermane Guard camp together.

You were barely aware of the sensation of someone throwing a blanket around your shoulders (even though you were still sweating buckets), and leading you to another location. You figured this was the secondary location of the Silvermane Guards’ camp, reserved for dealing with the public.

Said location was farther than Gepard than you had hoped it would be, but you couldn’t afford to be picky at this point. You were dropped off at an inconspicuous tent that was complete with snacks and apple juice to await further instructions. You felt much like a lost child.

The tent had a few tarps and blankets on the ground to shield you from the cold, hard ground, which would suck the heat out of any living thing that it came into contact with. It also included a stack of down pillows in the corner, which you readily surrounded yourself with, stacking a few to prop yourself up like a makeshift recliner. They definitely weren’t the softest things in the world, but they offered a welcome respite for your aching bones.

Although the tent’s canvas was reasonably thick, voices still managed to make their way in from outside. Bits and pieces of conversations, mostly about the incident and how you were faring. You wish they’d just ask you, honestly.

The next time you heard someone’s voice, you took the opportunity to creep out of your tent and ask them how Gepard was doing. The recipient of your questioning was power-walking with a few rifles in their arms that were likely being brought back to the barracks.

You lifted a hand to get their attention. “Excuse me, is Gep—,”

You bit your tongue. The sheer amount of guilt that welled up in your throat was utterly stifling. You didn’t have the right to address him with so little respect after what he’d been through.

“Um…” you continued, fighting through the anxiety that threatened to close your windpipe. “Is the captain okay?”

“Captain Gepard?” The soldier turned to face you. “Yes, he has a few injuries, but he will survive,”

You let out a wheezing sigh of relief that made your knees shake. “Thank Qlipoth. What kind of injuries?”

“Well— he got his brains jostled around a little bit when his head got bashed against a wall,” the soldier mused. He had an air of casual-ness about him. “He has a few lacerations from some shrapnel as well. Did you see the one on his head? That one was real nasty,”

Nothing had prepared you for the way the ground wriggled beneath you or how your stomach flipped inside out and backwards. You couldn’t breathe for a moment as your diaphragm heaved uncomfortably. You staggered over to the scrap metal pile, where you proceeded to vomit up the meal you’d gotten from the food stall earlier.

The soldier watched as you wiped away the vile liquid dripping from your chin and turned back around.

“Sorry,” you muttered. Why the hell would you say it like that?? You glowered at him internally. He shuddered, feeling your gaze on him.

At that moment, you wanted to be anywhere else but there.

“I’ll uh— I’ll get you a cup of tea,” the soldier said apologetically. You took a seat on a wooden crate, bracing yourself by gripping its edges so tightly you thought your knuckles would freeze that way.

They came back in a heartbeat with a steaming cup of tea, as promised. It was the type commonly used in the Silvermane Guards’ rations. You drank it gratefully, elated to finally be rid of the taste of vomit in your mouth.

After you’d finished, you asked if there was anything you could help with around camp. The guard looked at you like you’d sprouted an extra head.

“H-help out? Why?” He asked. “We couldn’t possibly ask you to help out all you’ve been through, Mx. (Y/N),”

After all I’ve been through, huh?

You barked a dry laugh.

“I’m perfectly fine,” you said plainly. “You all have done so much for me. I feel like I owe it to you all,”

You clenched your fist to quell the slight bitterness that was eating at you. “Besides, the only reason I made it out of there alive was because the captain saved me,”

The soldier sighed, loaded with uncertainty at your statement. “I’m not sure, since it’s technically against protocol to enlist the help of citizens without proper reason. But firstly, you should go see the lieutenant—,” he said, resting his hand on his chin. “—I believe he wanted to obtain an incident report from you, but there’s a chance he’ll have a job for you to do afterward,” he pointed you in the direction of the tent, which had a large dark blue banner flying above it.

“Right, okay,” you acquiesced. You set your cup down, dusted off your tunic, and waved the soldier goodbye. He waved back, with a slight air of confusion about what had just happened.

Meanwhile, guards milled about everywhere you went. You soundlessly slipped into the tent you had been directed to, awaiting your sentencing, sitting down in a foldable metal chair in front of a desk with a quill and an inkwell. You flinched at how cold it was.

The tents here weren’t the most comfortable thing ever, but they were much neater than the ones in the vagrant camp, where people hoarded every scrap of metal they could get their hands on. This led to tents looking more like portable junkyard balloons.

A breeze of air whisked its way inside as the tent flaps peeled open, and the lieutenant’s metal visor glowed like a flame in the lamplight. The man had to duck a fair bit so as not to act as an extra support pole inside the tent.

He set down his hefty shield with a clunk, all while sitting down in front of you. A sheaf of papers also made its appearance from his bag, and he shuffled through them with incredible dexterity (considering he wore clunky metal gauntlets on both hands).

“Hello,” the man said, raising his hand in greeting. “I’m Lieutenant Thrace Hawthorne of the 4th Division of Silvermane Guards. It’s a pleasure to meet you. You must be (Y/N), I presume?” He asked as he extended his other hand towards you.

You took it cautiously, keeping a close eye on his body language. “Yes, that’s me. I was instructed to come here by another guard,”

He gave you a firm handshake, but squeezed your knuckles in a way that made them throb with pain. Air hissed thinly through your teeth. “Yes, and I thank you for being here as we intended,”

You retracted your arm, eyeing the man up and down suspiciously. You couldn’t discern his facial expressions with that stupid hat in the way.

“—you are aware that the Silvermane Guards do everything in our power to maintain a safe environment for the people of Belobog, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” you replied obediently.

“And, in order to keep the Guards as safe as possible, we need as much information as we can get,”

You nodded.

“Good,” he said while dipping the pen nib into the inkwell. “So, I will be asking you a few questions about what happened down here today. Is that alright with you?”

You agreed, albeit not too enthusiastically. Something in your gut told you that you didn’t exactly have the option to refuse.

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” he replied smoothly. “So, what kind of business were you two conducting in Rivet Town earlier today?

You paused, scratching your chin. “I went to retrieve an family heirloom from my old home. Captain Gepard was merely accompanying me at that time,” you explained. “We intended to be in and out in less than half an hour,”

The man across from you scribbled down a few notes. “Were you aware that it was a dangerous area at the time?”

“I was not. We had been told it was largely safe,” you responded. “Threats that severe shouldn’t have been lurking there, as far as we knew,”

Lieutenant Hawthorne tutted, which rubbed you the wrong way. Just his presence made you want to itch. “Where or from whom did you receive this information?”

“No one in particular. I’d just heard word on the street,”

“Any particular people that come to mind?”

“No, sorry,” you shook your head. You’d seen far too many people on your way to recall accurately who had told you what.

“Okay. And why was Captain Gepard accompanying you at that time?”

“I was visiting Natasha, and she had said that it might be best if someone came with me, because it might not be particularly safe,”

“Ah… that Natasha,” The man mused. “Wildfire’s leader,” he said, flipping the page over. You pursed your lips at him as something twisted in your gut. You didn’t trust this man as far as you could throw him and his stupid gigantic shield.

Don’t you dare say her name like that, you hissed.

“The captain himself volunteered to go,” you jumped in quickly. “That’s just the way he—,”

You froze, realizing you’d given away more than you’d intended to. Your emotions had gotten the better of you.

Hawthorne’s gaze was unwavering through his silver visor. “Interesting… on the other hand, what is Miss Natasha like?”

This time, you thought through your words carefully. “She’s— she’s a kind woman and one of the hardest working people in the underworld. She takes care of people at every possible opportunity,”

“What’s her relationship to you?” He inquired.

“She’s the local doctor. Everyone knows her,” you said bluntly.

“Does she have any strong opinions about the Guards that you know of?” The lieutenant asked.

“Not that I’m aware,” you shook your head. “She’s never refused their help or spoken badly of them,” you explained. “She has the best intentions for everyone, no matter their background,”

Unlike you, you slimy bastard, you whispered internally.

Lieutenant Hawthorne asked you a few more questions, mostly about the automaton and the rescue, such as what color it was, if there were any discernible features, etc., before asking completely out of the blue,

“Are you romantically involved with Captain Gepard?”

“No??” You shot a look loaded with incredulity at him. “With all due respect, where did that come from, sir?”

“He’s never mentioned you before,” Hawthorne stated. His voice was like unbending steel. “An affair is unlikely, but not impossible,”

Who in their right mind would arrange a secret rendezvous in RIVET TOWN?? You snorted. This officer wasn’t worth a lukewarm bottle of rye bread soda.

“Then what is your relationship with him?”

Hah. As if I knew, you scoffed. You tried to formulate an answer as best you could.

“We’re friends. And I assume that, like most people, Gepard likes to keep his work and his life separate. That is all,” you said, your tone as flat as a sheet of paper.

“I can tell from your tone that you did not particularly enjoy those last few questions,” the man said, resting his hands on the table. “But this incident was incredibly serious. The guards may suspect some sort of foul play,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You clenched your fists at your sides so hard your knuckles turned white.

“I’m sorry for asking something so intrusive. But, a word of advice, (Y/N)—,” the lieutenant said, motioning towards you. “I suggest you keep your distance from the captain for the time being. As a witness of such an alarming incident, you wouldn’t want to draw attention to yourself,”

I know that, you gritted your teeth. I’m not stupid,

“Especially considering how he was outside of his usual territory. Some might think you lured him there on purpose,”

You bit back tears, pinching the bridge of your nose to hide your quivering jaw. “Sure. I’ll keep your advice in mind, thanks,”

Turning away so that he couldn’t see your expression, you pushed aside the tent flaps with barely controlled anger.

You knew he was right. All you ever did was get Gepard into odd situations that he wasn’t equipped to deal with.

Guilt crashed over you in waves. You were a bad influence, dragging him everywhere without a spare thought for his job or reputation. And he was probably too kind to turn you down otherwise.

Did he even really like you?

You knew this thought was ridiculous, but maybe, just maybe, you had deluded yourself into believing it. It sent sharp jabs of pain through your chest that wouldn’t stop, no matter how much you tried to think around it.

You walked in circles around camp in an attempt to calm yourself down. But it didn’t work. Finally, you ran across the same soldier that had given you tea earlier, and pestered him politely enough that he finally revealed Gepard’s location to you.

You had to get word from the man himself, or you’d never find peace.

After a few minutes of walking around, you spotted a tent that had a few more soldiers milling about it than usual.

Not knowing whether or not their eyes were on you, you approached it cautiously. You crept in even though your mind wasn’t sure if you really deserved to be there.

The medical tent was dark— you had to scrunch your eyes up a fair bit to adjust to the lighting. But, using the small sliver of light filtering in from the inside, you could faintly make out the shape of Gepard lying motionlessly on a cot.

You quietly pulled a metal bin up next to his right side to serve as a shoddy chair. It was then that you realized the true extent of the damage you had done.

The captain’s head was wrapped in bandages that partially covered his left eye. A pad of gauze with adhesive tape on each side was stuck to his chin, and there was a pillow on each side of his head to keep his neck in place, along with one under him to keep him supported. Most of his armor, such as the metal breastplate and his medals, had been removed and set aside, save for the metal arm armor he wore. You wondered if someone had forgotten to remove it.

You noticed his cape hanging torn from a metal rack, and stared at it with a plaintive expression for a few. You didn’t think there was anything you were capable of doing to make this situation any better.

Sighing, you rested an elbow on your knee while tracing the outline of his hand with your free arm. He was resting so peacefully— albeit his eyebrows were a bit furrowed— maybe it would be best if you let him rest for now and came back later?

You rose to your feet quietly like a mouse. But even with a severe head injury, the captain’s perception hadn’t dampened a bit. He began to stir.

“Mmm… Franz? What is it?” He croaked weakly, his brows furrowing the slightest bit. Your breath caught in your throat.

“Franz, is that you?” The captain asked again, a little bit stronger this time. You flinched as he wined in pain. He was definitely feeling the hit he’d taken. You returned to your seat on the frosty metal bin.

“No, sorry,” you said softly. Your stomach churned like butter just looking at him. “…it’s me,”

You patted his hand gingerly, willing your tears to go away.

“(Y/N)…”

Gepard opened his eyes to get a better look in the dim lighting of the tent. You leaned over the cot, your eyes filled to the brim with guilt and ash covering your cheekbones.

“I’m… glad that you’re safe,” he rasped. The captain cleared his throat painfully.

“That’s my line, dummy,” you smiled at him, slightly relieved. But your voice was loaded with pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “There was a lot of… blood… as they were carrying you out,”

“I received a fairly bad cut right above my left eye,” he said. “They gave me a few stitches for it. I did hit my head pretty badly, but it’s nothing life threatening, thankfully,”

“Thanks the architects,” you sighed. “Your armor looks pretty beat up too. Are you gonna get it fixed?”

“It did its job,” Gepard replied. Lantern light hit its surface and it glinted, as if it was agreeing. “My rib cage could have cracked otherwise,”

He patted one of his ribs with his gloved hand to hammer the point home. You felt another twinge of guilt in your chest.

“R-right. Is there anything you need? Like water, y’know,” you murmured.

“I’m satisfied for now. Franz got me everything I needed earlier,” he cut you off.

“Okay,” you chewed on your lip in silence. Your hands fidgeted with nothing, as if searching for something to do.

You could tell Gepard’s eyes were trained on you, but you kept your own focused on the ground. A few chunks of dirt surrounded your feet where they had broken off from your boots that drew your attention.

Tears kept threatening to well up in your lower eyelids, but Preservation be damned— you were not going to cry right in front of him.

You rubbed your face with your sleeve, which unfortunately still smelled like bile, and feigned a cough to make the action less conspicuous.

“Y’know… I wanted to thank you for saving me back there,” you paused, staring off into the distance. “I got off with nothing but a few scratches because you kept me safe,”

Gepard hummed in acknowledgment, for he was unable to nod with his head and neck incapacitated. What you couldn’t hear, however, was how the inside of his head had whispered to him that if you had gotten injured, he would never have forgiven himself. The captain couldn’t say it outright— but he hoped that the way he gazed at you so longingly would get the message across.

With your nerves ticking at the fact he hadn’t said anything, you added, “They asked me like, a million questions before they let me go,” you chuckled lightly. It felt misplaced, but it was the best you could do to cheer him up.

Gepard didn’t seem to find the humor in it, though. His eyes stared back up at the ceiling. “Is that so?”

“Y-yeah,” you twiddled your thumbs slightly. “Some guy named Hawthorne— he sat me down for an hour or two earlier. He seemed kinda shady,”

“Oh, Lieutenant Hawthorne?” Gepard pondered. “I know of him. He may come off as a bit cunning, but he means well. Hawthorne lost his brother during the quarantine of the underworld. He just wants to keep the guards safe from any threat, so that no one has to go through the same experience he did,”

“Really?” You gasped in shock. “I guess I owe the guy an apology then,” you said, resting your head in your hands as your chest twinged with embarrassment.

“…I really jumped the gun on that one, huh?” You sighed.

“I don’t blame you,” Gepard replied. “Trusting your gut is important. And you would have more than enough reason to harbor some animosity, given the way the guards treated you all here previously,”

Something about his voice— although it wasn’t outright comforting— soothed your nerves a bit. Only someone so level-headed could reassure you so well, you laughed inwardly. Which was impressive— considering he was lying exhausted and halfway dead in front of you.

Maybe you didn’t have the right to be scared, because this was just the nature of his job (you know, the one he did every day for a living). But he was supposed to fight valiantly for Belobog’s people,

Not a single, worthless vagrant like yourself.

You kept inhaling a preparatory breath to speak, but each time the words would vanish right as they were about to exit your lips.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to spit it out.

“Gepard… I have a question to ask you,” you paused. “It’s kind of weird— but is that okay?”

The young noble’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Surely it wasn’t— no, it didn’t look like it.

That wasn’t the face of someone who was about to confess. He scolded himself mentally. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about it. Instead, every hill and valley of your expression was laden with worry and pain. He wished he could sit up and take you into his arms, so he could whisk all of that pain away.

“It’s fine with me,” he said. “What is it?”

“It’s just—,” oh Aeons, this is so embarrassing, “Why is it that you hang around someone like me? If I’m being honest, I really don’t understand,”

Gepard’s mouth went dry.

“Someone like you? What might you mean by that?” He inhaled sharply.

“I’m just a troublemaker,” you replied, smiling sadly at him. “And you’re a guard. We’re as different as winter and spring,” you were taken aback almost disbelievingly.

“You’re hardly a troublemaker,” Gepard retorted. “At least, not in Serval’s sense, where she deliberately makes things harder for me,”

Okay, well, maybe not deliberately.

You grimaced. “That may be true. But, I cause you problems in other ways. Like, that time at the cafe tables. You’re a public figure, for Qlipoth’s sake! What was I thinking, pulling you up there in broad daylight?”

You clamped your mouth shut before you ran entirely out of breath. “My presence also puts a strain on your reputation. I’m from the underworld. We’re supposed to be lazy and dishonest, y’know,” you scolded. “I hear old ladies whispering about it all the time,”

You kept yammering, “Hawthorne even asked me if you were off horsing around with me because I brought you out there today,” you groaned frustratedly. “All I do is get you into weird situations,”

You were a centimeter away from pulling all your hair out.

“That’s not entirely true. I get into plenty of weird situations myself,” Gepard protested. “For instance, Serval—,”

“Stop throwing your sister under the bus!” You barked, proceeding to pinch him in the thigh.

“Agh—!” He flinched with a yelp. “As I was saying— that isn’t true in the slightest. Yes, we may have ended up in a few strange situations. But those are a rare minority of the times we spend together,” he shot back.

Gepard reached out and rested his gloved hand on your knee reassuringly, a new look coming across his face. Your heart twirled in your chest.

“Did you know that before we met, my days were largely routine… just like clockwork?” He asked.

“But you brought excitement into my life,” he declared. “Being friends with someone unaffiliated with the guards has been incredibly beneficial in terms of my own personal happi—,”

The captain cleared his throat before he gave away anything more. His cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink. “A-anyways,” he sputtered. “The benefits of being your companion far outweigh any drawbacks you think you might have,”

A noise of surprise escaped from your throat as you felt your face begin to heat. Wow, he sure had a way with words. But you weren’t going to go down without a fight.

“I— well, what are the guards going to think about you nearly getting killed over a stupid piece of junk?!?” You blurted out, your voice breaking. The phonograph in your bag bumped against the cot at the sudden outburst.

Gepard searched your eyes in vain for what you might be feeling, but he came up completely empty. His chest fell at your distressed face.

“It’s true that the guards are tasked with many important duties,” he began, enunciating each and every word slowly. “Such as defending the union, serving the people, and enforcing the orders of the Supreme Guardian… I believe my help today would fall under the ‘serving the people’ category,”

You tilted your head at him as if to beckon him to explain further.

“We get called to track down lost pets or put up posters quite frequently, in fact. It may not be the most exciting job, but it is an honor to help the citizens of Belobog in any way, shape, or form,” he said stubbornly. “And you are one of the people, are you not?”

He defiantly exhaled through his nose. You were left looking at him, slack-jawed. He’d left you almost no room to argue.

“But— I’m not a technically a citizen of Belobog. I’m just a random vagrant from the mines!” You argued. It was a dumber point than you wanted to push, but you knew no other way to fight back.

“Belobogian creed dictates that we treat the people with respect, no matter where they should live,” the captain said without a hint of doubt. “It’s true that the previous Supreme Guardian sanctioned efforts to close off the underworld, but it was framed in the light that it would ensure the safety of the people on the surface. But it was wrong,”

Gepard sighed, feeling the weight of your words squeezing his chest. “It was my understanding that we were all just trying to survive the Eternal Freeze… but in any case, it would have been disrespectful to ignore Miss Natasha’s request to accompany you—,”

Okay, now that’s stretching it a bit, you blanched.

“—and let you go by yourself. In fact, Article 4, Section 5, Line 2 of the Silvermane Guard handbook states that—,” he blathered on. It honestly impressed you. You were helpless to do anything besides stare in disbelief as words poured from his mouth like a waterfall.

“But wh-what about the higher ups and the old folk? Won’t they get angry at you if they find out you’re hanging out with someone of my standing?” You jumped in the moment he stopped to take a breath.

“If people want to trouble themselves with our relationship, which is in fact, none of their business, I say we let them,” Gepard responded. “It is of no concern to me unless it affects you negatively. In which case, I would step in,”

He tightened his grasp on your leg. “I did not reach the station I am at by trying to please those types of meddling figures. Your background has never once concerned me, not even for a second,”

The captain locked eyes with you in such a way that you thought you’d evaporate if you averted your gaze, it was so intense.

“You are not some kind of vermin,” he proclaimed. “It pains me to see you talk about yourself like this. You are one of the Eversummer Florist’s most capable workers, and first and foremost— you are my friend,”

He finally clamped his mouth shut. Aeons, the man in front of you had no clue how much those words meant to you. You sank your teeth into your bottom lip to keep it from trembling.

“I promise you, (Y/N). What people think will not come between us in the slightest. I will be your iron wall, whenever or wherever you may need me,” he vowed with every fiber in his body.

And that’s when tears came pouring down your face.

They streamed down your cheeks and soaked into the collar of your coat. Your body shook with sobs, your shoulders shuddering every time you drew in a breath.

It happened so fast that Gepard was completely at a loss. He stammered out a few words, horrified that he might have caused something, but all that came out were a mess of vowels.

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. Short cries escaped your throat that you tried to stifle with your hand, and you gripped your knees tightly, trying to still your shaking body. But it wouldn’t stop. Your chest felt tight, so tight.

“(Y/N),” Gepard said gently from his position on the cot. “(Y/N),” he called again.

“It’s going to be alright,” he whispered. “I’m here for you,”

All of those feelings flowed out of you like a dam had broken. He wove his thumb in circles around the fabric of your pants in a comforting gesture, easing your aching soul.

You grasped his hands suddenly with both of your own and held it to your cheek, letting the warmth of his skin through his glove calm you down. You nuzzled into the palm of his hand mournfully, tears continuing to trickle down your face, until they finally slowed to a stop, your cheeks and eyes still wet.

After the crying had subsided, leaving only the occasional hiccup, Gepard pulled a clean handkerchief out of his pant pocket and handed it to you. You blew into it loudly, giving him a congested apology afterwards.

You threw your head back to look up at the tent ceiling while blinking away any remaining tears. Willfully scrunching up your face, you let out a calming breath and returned to looking at the captain. He had a relieved look on his face.

“Okay,” you breathed. “I’m okay now. Thank you, Gepard,”

“It was the least I could do,” he said, placing his hand back down on the cot.

“Yeah,” you sniffed. “But it was more than enough,” you mustered up the best smile you could in order to reassure him.

“Um, about what you were saying earlier—,” you brought up. “If— if you say so. But the higher ups, would they withhold a promotion from you or because you were hanging out with me?”

He smiled gently at you, capturing your soul effortlessly with that simple motion. “I’m quite satisfied with being the captain of the Silvermane Guards, thank you. My deeds as a soldier stand as a testament to that,”

You wiped at your face with the sleeve of your coat jacket. “Hah, I guess I was worried for nothing then,” you said with a hint of frustration. “How silly of me,”

Gepard reached up and patted your head reassuringly, causing your eyes to widen. “The fault isn’t all yours. I appreciate you being so considerate, but it’s not your job to protect me,”

He put such meaning into every word he said. Such an admirable way of life.

You swatted his hand away lightheartedly. “Yeah? Well, it’s not your job to protect me, then,” you sniffed. You stuck your tongue out at him as far as it would go, which elicited a short laugh from Gepard.

Aeons, that smiling face was priceless. You could just lean over and kiss him right on that cot.

The smile faded from your face, replaced with something else now. You reached over him and wiped some stray hairs from his face using your single clean glove, watching them fall back into place with a satisfied look.

As you were retracting your arm— much to your surprise— he gently lifted one of his hands and placed it to yours, palm-to-palm. His fingers were slightly bent, so they wrapped around to the back of your hand. A smile danced on your lips; your face and neck much warmer than previously.

You clasped your hand entirely around his, admiring his soft smile. It was so warm and dreamy, a rare ember in a world as cold and hard as Jarilo-VI— a planet so unlike its namesake.

Just when you were stroking the side of his hand with your thumb, you heard a deep rumble (or maybe it was more like a growl?) from your companion’s stomach region.

Gepard went as red as a tomato.

“Captain… I thought you said you didn’t need anything?” You squinted your eyes at him accusingly at the realization.

Gepard internally cursed himself.

Sighing, he said,

“…maybe some porridge will do, thank you,”

BONUS:

“Ugh,” you grunted. “C-captain, you’re heavy! Franz, can you help me get him up real quick?”

Lieutenant Hawthorne, who was walking by the tent at the time, heard shuffling and something that sounded like a grunt of protest from the captain.

“Truly, (Y/N). I can sit up by myse—,”

“NO,” exclaimed both your and Franz’s voices loudly. Hawthorne stopped in his tracks.

“May I at least hold the spoon?” Gepard pleaded. Hawthorne could see your silhouettes from the lantern light cast upon the tent’s walls. You had your hands on your hips as Franz held a bowl and a tray behind you.

You snorted. “In your dreams. I got you all banged up, so it’s my job to take care of you. If I leave you be, you’ll just overwork yourself until you pass out again!”

“May I remind you, that was but a singular instance when—,”

“Lalalalala!” You sang obnoxiously. “I can’t hear you!”

“(Y/N), I beg of you. I must maintain my dignity,” he implored one last time.

“Here comes the Astral Express!” Hawthorne heard you shout, completely overshadowing the captain.

The tent went silent for a moment.

“It’s good, right?” You asked after a short pause.

“…yes,”

Th lieutenant chuckled to himself and continued on his way.

BONUS 2: Belobog Central Hospital

“…and as long as you take care of yourself, you should be good to go in about two weeks,” said the head nurse to Gepard, who was just finishing up giving him the synopsis of his condition. “We’ll be monitoring your condition for the time being, okay? Head injuries are nothing to joke about,”

He agreed. The captain lay in a hospital bed with a neck brace and one leg elevated with a foam wedge, which, frankly, he thought was overkill, considering he was able to walk to the camp.

A vase of fake flowers lay on the bedside table. Gepard smiled to himself. You’d mutter under your breath and call it a waste of a good vase.

After half an hour, the pain medications they had given him finally kicked in, and he’d drifted off to sleep.

He dreamt about making you a rye bread soda iceberg, your eyes lighting up as he placed it in front of you. Maybe once winter came around, he’d make you a pie, but he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. He snoozed softly, when suddenly he was awoken in the middle of the night by a scratching sound at the hospital window.

Gepard lifted his body as much as he could to get a better look, when he spotted the tops of two blonde heads along with a purple-haired one.

The tufted ears on Lynx’s hat wobbled. Serval’s blue eyes peered above the windowsill and they narrowed into crescents as she grinned. Meanwhile, Pela was looking around frantically, making sure no one spotted them.

His elder sister reached up with the multi-tool you had bought her, and fiddled with the lock. The latch came open with a clean pop. And true to her name, Serval slunk in gracefully, her heels clacking on the laminated floor.

“Hi, little bro,” she smirked. “Are visiting hours over?”

He looked at her incredulously. “I think you know the answer to that. Why else would you be breaking in?”

“Breaking in is a stretch,” she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Like I said, we’re visiting— just outside of the intended time!”

Gepard sighed. “I cannot believe you managed to drag the other two into this. What if you get caught?”

“Actually, it’s three,” your voice piped up. It came from somewhere under Pela. You spoke again. “And we won’t, I promise,”

The captain’s eyes went as wide as saucers.

That’s right. He was on the second floor.

Lynx hoisted herself up, and Pela began to follow suit.

“H-how?” He blurted. “How did you get in here?”

“There’s a dumpster out back that we used to elevate ourselves,” Pela said, not wavering in the slightest. “It could only hold about two people, so (Y/N) is currently holding me up,”

She hoisted herself entirely into the room and beckoned the others to come hoist you up. Gepard spotted one mitten, then the other. And then the rest of you came into view. And you were holding a basket with a blue silk ribbon tied to it.

“We brought you a gift basket!” You whisper yelled. Gepard’s face lit up like a spotlight at the sight of you.

You hopped over to his side and leaned over him with a smile, showing him the contents of the basket. “We’ve got flowers, and cookies, and— hey! Are those fake flowers?” You snapped your head towards the flowerpot indignantly.

You put the basket down and scoffed. “That’s a waste of a good damn vase if I’ve ever seen one,”

Whisking yourself towards the sin against botany, you yanked the faux flowers out and tossed them aside. Then you replaced them with a few stems of white tulips from your basket and filled the vase with water from the nearby sink.

Gepard smiled. You’d said it all almost word-for-word.

And so you stayed a while, talking well into the night. And you were all so tired that no one showed up to their jobs the next day.

2024 - Dreaming-of-Mossballs - Do not repost/translate without my permission - NO AI

💙 THANKS FOR READINF I LOVE YOU 💙

[simplegenius042]

Music Monday, WIP Wednesday & Last Line

Tagged by @cassietrn and @voidika

Tagging @imogenkol @inafieldofdaisies @adelaidedrubman @shellibisshe @aceghosts @socially-awkward-skeleton @noodlecupcakes @josephseedismyfather @icecutioner @derelictheretic @shallow-gravy @direwombat @strangefable @rhettsabbott @josephslittledeputy @cloudofbutterflies92 @skoll-sun-eater @carlosoliveiraa @g0dspeeed @wrathfulrook @afarcryfrommymain @strafethesesinners @turbo-virgins @raresvtm @softtidesworld @starsandskies @ladyoriza @la-grosse-patate @florbelles @minilev @yokobai @thewanderer-000 @omen-speaker @justasmolbard @alypink @thesingularityseries @nightwingshero and @lulu2992 + anyone else who'd like to join.

Got songs for The UnTitledverse, Wings And Horns and A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, with a snippet for a new FC5 The Silver Chronicles WIP as well as a last line for You Make My Heart Go Doki Doki Literature Club!. You can listen to the songs and read the WIPs snippets below:

Legend is important. It's part of history and culture. It should always be preserved in the present to better understand our past to make way to the future. Now many of my series divulge into legends and myths and old stories. Some of them outright make reverence to events long passed (the Extermination Purge Wars, the Big Bangs, the fall of the Houses of the Old Gods and the foundation the Time Bureau Authority, etc). Sometimes all that was in the past emerges into the present (with the likes of the Arachnoids, Exterminators, the Old Kin and more). However, one historical text in my series is the abolishment of the (while benevolent, very flawed) Soulmate System, which my Original Work Wings And Horns is set in. The plot is that more and more mortals are being discovered without soulmarks (which come in the form of marks, initials, countdowns, etc, depending on the person and timeline), so the New Gods send Archangel Metatron and an Angel of Death cadet, Azriel, to investigate the phenomenon to see whether it is natural or manufactured. Metatron wants to preserve and fix the system because he believes mortals require it, meanwhile Azriel just wants the credit so her soul can be reincarnated at an earlier date. The duo behind the soulmark removals is a Sloth Demon by the name of Xiang Ba'al and his adopted daughter, a Sinner's soul by the name of Jezebel. This cat and mouse chase is what ultimately dictates the decision the New Gods are debating; should mortals require on the guidance on something as small as love? Or should mortals find the love of their life on their own, a small step to gifting them a responsibility that had drastically the status quo beforehand thousands of years ago; that being, Free Will?

"Legends never die When the world is calling you Can you hear them screaming out your name? Legends never die."

"They never lose hope when everything's cold And the fighting's near." "It's deep in their bones They'll ride into smoke when the fire is fierce." "Oh, pick yourself up 'cause

Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die!"

"Legend never dies They're written down in eternity But you'll never see the price it costs The scars collecting all of their lives."

"When everything's lost They pick up their hearts and avenge defeat Before it all starts They suffer through harms to touch and dream." "Whoa, pick yourself up 'cause

Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die!"

"Legends never die." "When the world is calling out your name." "Begging you to fight." "Oh, oh, oh, pick yourself up Once more, pick yourself up 'cause

Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die Legends never die!"

"Legends never die."

Walking Fate is a fic series in The UnTitledverse based in Telltale's The Walking Dead video game. The fic classically follows (most) of the game/s, but does diverge a bit off with pivotal focus on Clementine and an OC of mine whose the runaway son of Darling Enterprises, a multi-business juggernaut, Malcrum Darling, and their relationship. They're definitely not "tragic star-crossed lovers". I'd never do such a thing in The Walking Dead universe. Here's a song about Malcrum's feelings towards Clementine that's definitely in no shape or form supposed to be interpreted as inno- I mean twisted. Enjoy!

"Hey, he-ey-ey, he-he-hey

Your lipstick stains On the front lobe of my left side brains I knew I wouldn't forget you And so I went and let you blow my mind

Your sweet moonbeam The smell of you in every single dream I dream I knew when we collided You're the one I have decided who's one of my kind

Hey, soul sister Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo The way you move ain't fair you know Hey, soul sister I don't wanna miss a single thing you do, tonight

Hey, he-ey-ey, he-he-hey

Just in time I'm so glad you have a one track mind like me You gave my life direction A game show love connection we can't deny

I'm so obsessed My heart is bound to beat right out my untrimmed chest I believe in you Like a virgin, you're Madonna And I'm always gonna wanna blow your mind.

Hey, soul sister Ain't that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo The way you move ain't fair you know Hey, soul sister I don't wanna miss a single thing you do, tonight."

Throughout A Radioactive Calamity Of Love, Bombs & Gore, one universal rule is applied; it doesn't matter you are. From a vault dweller who drew the short straw to a psychotic resident of Vault 76 whose a bit too obsessed with wanting to kill her neighbors. A talking Deathclaw to a Ghoul addicted to chems. A brother who wants to uphold the morals his mother taught him in the Wasteland to his amoral sister who kicks old people people and harasses the less fortunate because she's from a wealthy crime family. Because in the end... they have to stand up to Arcane Urias. (Those poor fuckers are gonna die LOL!!!). Because I guess it's the right to do (in the context of self-preservation against the threat of annihilation).

"Up in the morning, up in the evening Pickin' down clocks when the birds get back to eat Oh, to eat

Up on the mountain, down in the king's lair Pushing these boxes in the heat of the afternoon Oh, afternoon

We were never welcome here We were never welcome here at all No

It's who we are, doesn't matter if we've gone too far Doesn't matter if it's all okay Doesn't matter if it's not our day

Oh, won't you save us, what we are Don't look clear, it's all uphill from here Oh-oh

Up in the attic, down in the cellar Lost in a static, coming back for more Oh, for more

Out with the reason, in with the season Taking down names in my book of jealousy Jealousy

We were never welcome here We were never welcome here at all No!"

An long FC5 WIP for The Silver Chronicles, a new one at that, one I'm naming after the lyrics of David Kushner's "Daylight"; because David Kushner and his songs fit The Silver Chronicles on a scary level. Anyway, the WIP is called Oh, I Love It And I Hate It At The Same Time. You And I Drink The Poison From The Same Vine. Hiding All Our Sins From The Daylight... also known as "the fic where Silva and Paul survive the Tumultite Massacre together and their father/daughter relationship worsens into co-dependence in Montana". Where's Elsa and Persephone at? Well, they'll arrive in the later half of the fic... along with Kamski. Despite the fact their relationship not being "gonna kill you for hurting me even though you were good once", this is far from a good and healthy outcome for both Silva and Paul. In spite of this, they make a dangerous duo (as expected of the two), something the Seeds kind of suspect when they meet them. Enjoy being as lost as the Seeds are in this scene snippet below when Paul interrupts them meeting the Muse herself at a social gathering Pre-Reaping. [Would like to add that the WIP is fairly new, and I'm still working on this scene, and may make a few changes in the near future when I have the time. Expect some mistakes]:

When the question left Joseph's mouth, he felt a pain clutch his shoulder.

With a surprised hitch of his breath, he glanced down to gloved fingers that dug into his shoulder blade with an astonishing unnatural amount of strength.

"Her padre, of course," the soft gleeful voice of the hand's owner answered from beside him, the tone sickeningly sweet.

The stranger's head faced Joseph, his eyes closed to Joseph's seeking blue. His lips curved up in a polite and cheerful smile, one that should be dripping with honey.

The man's eyes briefly opened to reveal burning yellow eyes, bordering on an intense gold. Joseph could not shake the feeling that he's seen those eyes before. A vision perhaps?

Joseph felt himself tense as he recognized the way this man looked at him; the way John sometimes gazed upon the Sinners. A predator that has targeted its prey. And it was Joseph who was already in his clutches.

The man blinked, and the inhuman hue was gone. Instead, a pale hazel resided in its stead. He drifted his eyes away from Joseph, locking with the oblivious grey of the deputy that heralded the coming of the Collapse.

An inexplicable dread coiled in his gut when the man's features genuinely lightened at the sight of his family's judge.

"Ah, il mio piccolo Boa!" he greeted with a beaming grin, letting go of Joseph's aching shoulder to push past him, swiftly making his way to Silva to the Seed's collective daze. The man wrapped his arms over Silva's body, embracing the slightly shorter woman. She seemed delighted by his unexpected appearance.

They both pulled away, though gloved hands remained on the other's arms. The man, though a stranger to the crowd around her, seemed to be a familiar face to Silva. Joseph watched the stranger's hand glide caressing fingers across her dark hair affectionately, following the slivers of the dyed silver trails that reached to her braid, "And how are you fairing this fine hour?"

Silva graced the question with a smile; not the formal and polite smile that served to keep a front up to strangers, but one with an undeniable sincerity shining through.

"Hola to you too, Paul," Silva returned with bemusement, "I was just making some new friends. What brings you over?"

From behind Paul, Joseph could see the man's head tilt. Through the abrupt gesture, Silva's features suggested she understood the meaning, "Um, amigos, Paul."

"Ah," Paul seemed to understood, sneaking an obvious glance towards Joseph and his siblings. There was no trace of gold in those hazel eyes, and the intensity lesser than when he locked eyes with Joseph, but the suspicion directed towards them held a sharp edge to it. Paul let another word roll down his tongue, but the tone matched his gaze, "Amici."

In spite of the growing uneasiness, Joseph willed himself to keep a calm front. He was unsure why Paul off-put him. Joseph regarded the man; his stature was slight taller than Silva's, but similar to Joseph's own height. He was older than all of them, including Jacob; perhaps a decade older. His hair was blonde- or rather, dyed blonde, as Joseph noted the light brown at the sides of his head. His complexion wasn't too dissimilar from Silva's own, maybe deeper.

Joseph took note of the few faded scarring scarcely scattered around his face, and like Silva's, time had laid its healing hands on Paul's own wounds.

Joseph paused his observation, about to make introductions with the askant man when John stepped forward first.

"Yes, we were giving our compliments to Silva for the couscous salad you've brought. She was just telling us it was a co-opted effort," John stated with a grin, one Joseph's had become accustomed to over the years. John's move peaked Paul's interest, his suspicion replaced with curiosity. With his audience captured, Joseph watched approvingly as John continued, a hand outstretched, "I don't believe we've met mister...?"

Recognition shined in Paul's eyes, though it was swept away with a grin bigger than John's as his gloved hand grasped John's in a steady shake, "Yellowjack. But please, just call me Paul. I've always felt the term "mister" gives off the impression I'm married, or worse, boring."

Jacob raised a brow, though refrained from commenting as John replied when letting go of Paul's hand, "Noted. So, are you a friend of Silva's or family?"

Paul shared a glance with Silva and replied, "Family. I'm her padre. I've taken care of her for a long time."

Joseph focused on both Silva and Paul; he couldn't find anything indistinguishably shared between both, though he considered that Silva might just take after her mother than Paul. However, he didn't discard the possibility that Paul was Silva's adoptive father rather than her blood relative.

He kept his thoughts to himself though; reasoning that bringing up the question wouldn't be appropriate so early now. Especially if there's a layer of deception underneath Paul's relation with Silva; he didn't want to unintentionally compromise her safety if Paul held more sin than Joseph already suspected he did.

Silva spoke up, grabbing everyone's attention as she pointed out, "You know Paul, you never answered my question."

Paul seemed to stiffen; clearly a dramatic display rather than serious, as Paul finally answered Silva, "Well, you see, I had caught up with good ol' Virgil before he had to run off for his own business and I saw you speaking to these truffatori impopolari, quindi volevo solo controllarti. You know?"

Joseph and Jacob shared a glance; none of them could interpret the words Paul had sputtered out, though Joseph relaxed when Silva gave Paul a soft smile, "I'm grateful for your concern. But I've got this handled. Gracias, though."

Paul relaxed his stiffness, and Silva brought his attention back towards them, "Now how about some introductions?"

"Great idea," Paul agreed, hazel scanning across the four siblings, "How about we go oldest to youngest?"

Jacob's mouth thinned, blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized Paul with harsh judgement. Joseph watched as his brother scanned the older man's black and yellow attire. It was flaunting a level of wealth, typical of someone who indulged in vanity. However, that didn't sit right with Joseph. He decided to dwell on it later as he watched Paul and Jacob.

Paul glanced to Jacob, and after a pause, he leaned closer, "Let's start with you ragazzone."

Jacob stared down Paul, who was an inch or two shorter than the red-head. He exhaled out an annoyed huff, and gruffly stated, "Name's Jacob."

Paul hummed and straightened up his posture, hazel eyes trailing Jacob's forest green jacket and body. His eyes seemed to linger on the American flag, Jacob's burns and, oddly enough, his biceps more often. Paul clicked his tongued and nodded his head approvingly, "That checks out. But man, sei una delizia per i miei occhi."

Silva had a bemused expression at Paul's words. Jacob, though, raised a brow, "Mind sharing on what's on your mind?"

Paul had snapped out of his trance, and he swiftly blurted out, "Oh, I just said you looked good, is all."

Paul's attention hastily turned to John and Joseph. He looked between the two, but when the older man focused on him, Joseph witnessed his cheer drop abundantly when their eyes met.

The cold dread surfaced once more. The dead-eyed scrutiny the older man reserved for Joseph alone alarmed him. Joseph could not understand Paul's behavior. Neither could he recall any cases where he could have slighted the man, despite this being their first meeting. He'd never seen Paul in any of his visions, only Silva.

Regardless, Joseph chose to retaliate with a gentle greeting, "My name's Joseph. My family and I run the chapel over on the island by the Henbane."

"Oh yeah, I know," Paul calmly told him, all the playfulness gone, "You're the head of the Project at Eden's Gate, correct?"

Joseph curtly nodded in confirmation, and Paul continued, "Yes, I've heard quite a lot about you. Folks around here always have something to say about your little project."

Joseph's lips thinned, disappointment resonating in his chest. So the sinners lies are spreading swiftly. He was displeased by this knowledge, but he resolved to help Paul see the light. If not for his own soul, then the sake of his daughter's.

John stepped in, interrupting the exchange, "All good things, one would hope."

Paul turned attentively to John with an upbeat rejuvenation, disregarding Joseph, "Well, they can't certainly be all bad now, can they?"

Paul's change in demeanor reminded Joseph of John; both hid their emotions behind a carefully crafted mask and would only reveal their true feelings to those they liked or trusted. However, Paul had more self-control over his emotions and mannerisms.

"And I don't believe you shared your name," Paul pointed out to John.

"John. And if I may, we'd encourage you and your daughter to come for at least one sermon," John invited. Joseph smiled at John's attempt to salvage Paul's soul.

The man in question gave a brief glance to Silva, who shrugged, before returning to John and saying, "Preferirei di no."

John waited for Paul to specify but the latter's attention shifted to their final sibling. Joseph caught a flash of an offended scowl on John's face, so Joseph reached a calming hand on his younger brother's shoulder. It worked, the scowl lost in a practiced exhale.

"Oh, look at this, they have a sorella Silva," Paul said with a grin as he stepped closer to the shorter Faith. Silva narrowed her eyes suspiciously at her father.

Admittedly, so had Joseph.

"What's your name?" Paul asked. Faith shifted, hands behind her back as a delighted smile stretched across her lips with an answer, "It's Faith."

"Faith," Paul repeated her name, seeming to break it down before giving a small bow, adding with sincerity, "A powerful name for a powerful woman. It suits you."

Paul's compliment had three separate effects from what Joseph could see; it had flattered Faith, who thanked Paul for his kind words. It had annoyed John, who rolled his eyes at the exchange.

And it had concerned Joseph, at least as the Father; while he had entrusted Faith in a role that required her to attract converts to their flock, he was weary of those with perverse sins that would embolden them to act on certain depravities.

There had been minor incidents that had occurred, at least in earlier years, though Faith had shown a strength and belief that always reaffirmed him in his decision to bring her in. Especially when she purified the souls of those who indulged in such vices, allowing them to serve the Project free of their sinful shackles; as angels.

He monitored Paul, watching as the man gazed into Faith's eyes, and saw once again how he lightened up. Paul noted aloud, "I must say, you have such lovely green eyes. Is that a recessive trait?"

As Faith gave an explanation to Paul, Joseph was more confused. The way he stated the detail was too specific. And he had stated loud enough for only their small group to hear.

He glanced to Silva, and was met with a menagerie of changing expressions; first was confusion, then came analysis, followed by baffled realization, until she finally settled on looking unimpressed.

With her reactions, Joseph was at a loss on how to view this interaction between Paul and Faith. Until Paul pulled out of his conversation with Faith and attentively singled Silva out, "You know Silva, se volevi solo parlare con la ragazza, non dovevi fare di tutto per incontrare prima tutta la sua famiglia, right?"

Silva blinked at Paul, staring agape as she processed the stream of words he told her aloud. A blush darkened her skin, grey eyes wide in astounded and embarrassment.

Ah, I see now, Joseph deduced, glancing from Silva to Paul, He's teasing her.

Evidenced by the cheeky grin that grew across Paul's face as he continued, "Lei è certamente una partita. Se vuoi, posso impartirti un po' di saggezza sul primo appuntamento. Purché non riceva un invito a nozze entro la fine dell'anno, eh Silva?"

Silva furrowed her brows at Paul, the blush expanded. She traversed over to grab Paul, telling him, "¡Ey! ¡Ya es suficiente de tu parte!"

Despite an irate Silva telling off a snickering Paul who fruitlessly tried to calm down his daughter, Joseph couldn't help but be endeared by the display in front of him. There was something else too... but he elected to push it away for the time being.

Joseph turned to address his family, and paused as John commented to Faith and Jacob, "Who here suspects this isn't an uncommon occurrence between these two?"

"I don't doubt it," Jacob affirmed, eyeing the duo, specifically Paul, "He's definitely the embarrassing parent."

And here's a few short paragraphed snippets for my DDLC WIP called You Make My Heart Go Doki Doki Literature Club! for the Last Lines tag. Sayori (plus Yuri and Natsuki) enters the club and interrupts... something:

The door class door clicked open, and both students snapped their heads to Sayori entering the class, who freezes once her blue eyes took in the sight of a frazzled and flushed Monika whose uniform was unkempt and fists were gripping the opened blazer flaps of the equally more disheveled and flushed new student Haoyu, both of their faces in close proximity of each other.

"This isn't what it looks like!" a horrified Monika quickly utters out, letting go of Haoyu's blazer and letting the green-dyed brunette troll drop to the floor with an ignored 'oomph!' as she went to address her club's co-president.

Only to stutter when, much to her horrifying embarrassment two more familiar faces entered the room beside Sayori; that of Yuri who didn't immediately comment on the situation and Natsuki who rushed in with a burning question to Monika's poorly timed outburst, "What doesn't look like what? Wait..."

Monika watched as Natsuki regarded her appearance, and then her pink eyes shifted to Haoyu leaning up nearby the coral brunette; who was repeatedly trying to blow hair away from their face, to a miserable degree of failure.

Once pink met emerald green, Monika could feel sweat start to break when she unfortunately witnessed a mischievous and teasing glint shine in her clubmate's eyes. With a teasing grin, Natsuki asked, "So what's going on in here?"

[urfavoritegirlkisser]

"Someone Gets Hurt" - Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader

Tags: Fem!reader, jealous!reader, you and abby are like on again off again, manipulative!reader, reader is gaslighting, gatekeeping, and girl bossing, implied abby x Ellie, nothing happens with that it's mainly for the plot, girls kissing YIPEE!, pet names like baby and honey, lightly proof read

a/n: in honor of one of my favorite musicals being released in theaters, you all get a mean girls au where the reader is basically regina, abby is aaron, and ellie is cady. Highly recommend you listen to "Someone Gets Hurt" from the cast album to get the vibe.

It’s Halloween and you’re at a house party hosted by your ex, Abby Anderson. 

You watch the new girl, Ellie, who you’ve taken under your wing, mainly to make sure she doesn’t stomp on the work you’ve put in to become the reigning power over the student body of your high school. 

She is currently checking out Abby who is in a chugging contest with the other softball players. It makes you roll your eyes and scoff to yourself in disgust. Still, the lingering stare Ellie gives her makes you fume, so you put on your most convincing smile and walk over.

“I heard you have a crush on Abby Anderson” You say, seemingly coming from nowhere as Ellie jumps a little in fright, eyes skimming over your skimpy bunny costume.

Ellie registers what you said and curses under her breath, “Uh…yeah, I do” she stammers a little under your gaze, which boosts your ego even more.

You’ll be honest, the fact that Ellie was going after your ex girlfriend twisted the jealousy in your stomach, a deep fear of this new girl taking your place as queen bee of the school.

You decided to have some fun

“I think you guys would make the cutest couple” you say sweetly, lying through your teeth

Ellie blushes even harder as she looks over at Abby who is sitting on the couch, “Really, I mean I heard you two were a thing so if you aren’t comfortable-”

You interrupt her, “Oh it’s fine, I could even talk to her for you if you’d like?” you say as innocently as possible

“You’d do that?” she says in surprise, which makes you laugh at how gullible she is

“It’s what friends are for…right?” You say with a smile before making your way over to Abby.

You stand in front of her, “I have to talk to you” you say which finally gets her attention as she slowly trails her eyes up your body before looking into your eyes, she smirks and leans back into the couch while putting her hands behind her head.

You take a moment to appreciate her muscular arms before listening to her response.

“I thought we were done talking after you dumped me this past summer” she says with an annoyed voice which you simply chuckle at.

You sit yourself in her lap and while she seems annoyed at first, you feel a strong arm wrap around your waist, “So, I heard that the new girl Ellie has a major crush on you”

You expect her to scoff, or roll her eyes, or something to that effect. What you don’t expect is Abby smiling softly to herself as a blush spreads across her cheeks, “Really? She does?” Abby says in an almost timid voice while keeping her gaze on Ellie.

Oh hell no

Your smirk drops for a moment before you recover and decide to pull out the big guns, you make yourself tear up and sniffle a little while looking away so you can pull some convincing crocodile tears to your eyes.

Abby pulls her attention away from Ellie immediately and lifts your chin gently, “Whoa, what’s wrong?” she asks in a concerned voice

You look up at her through your lashes, really milking this, “I just didn’t think this would be so hard for me” you say through fake sobs, “Just…promise me you won’t break her heart the way you did mine” you say as you get up and start to walk away

“Wait, baby, come here” Abby says and you feel her grab your wrist gently to turn you around.

Bingo

You smirk wickedly for a moment before putting your hurt facade back up as you face her again, “I just feel like you only dated me to make yourself look good” you say while placing a hand on her chest near her heart, “I truly love you Abby, but I was so afraid you’d find someone better than me and leave”

Abby sighs and places one of her hands over yours, intertwining your fingers, “I loved you too, and still do, I could neverfind anyone that could even come close to you” she says in a soft voice that makes you smile as your plan works.

You smile coyly and brush your hand down her arm, taking in her costume before looking up at her again, “You know…I think you have got to be the hottest zombie softball player I have ever seen.”

Abby smirks down at you, “Well considering I’m the only one, I’d say I have an unfair advantage” she says while wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close

She looks over your costume and speaks in a low voice as her face gets closer to yours, her breath fanning softly over your face, “I’ve seen about five girls wearing the same as you, but none of them can even compare honey” she says and you can feel her lips almost brush against yours.

You smile and pull her in fully, your lips pressing together in a heated exchange from months worth of tension since the summer.

When you pull away and look past Abby’s shoulder, you manage to catch the smallest glimpse of Ellie running out the door, and you smile to yourself.

an: I hope you enjoyed!! This is my first time writing for Abby so hopefully it isn't terrible lol, now go drink some water you girl kissers

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

WIP Wednesday

Thank you to @theotherbuckley @tizniz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove for tagging me!

Here's a snippet from the next chapter of Steal My Sunshine.

---

“By any chance, do you have a playlist on like Apple Music or Spotify that is kind of annoying and begins with that one incessant Canadian earworm, Steal My Sunshine?”

Whoa.

Wait. 

How the hell would he know that?

“What the fuck?” Buck asks quietly.

“I know, I know, this sounds totally crazy,” creepy guy continues, earning his moniker. “But the playlist begins with Steal My Sunshine, then moves to that weird New Zealand mariachi song.”

New Zealand mariachi? How the…

“Do you mean How Bizarre?” Buck asks, dumbfounded.

Creepy guy snaps his fingers. “That’s the one. And, uh, then there’s the one from American Pie.”

This is unbelievable.

“Laid,” Buck whispers. 

“Yes!” Creepy guy exclaims.

Buck reaches into his back pocket for his phone. 

“Well,” he says. “I’ll admit, you’ve got my attention.”

---

Tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @jeeyuns @aroeddiediaz @exhuastedpigeon @fionaswhvre

@steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @daughterofscotland @athenagranted @evanbegins

@wildlife4life @buckleybabyblues @adarkermiserablecrow @epicbuddieficrecs @fortheloveofbuddie

@watchyourbuck @buddieswhvre @l0v3t0hat3y0u @lyricfulloflight @bidisasterevankinard

@your-catfish-friend @diazsdimples

[galway-girlatwork]

written for @studioghibelli's writing challenge

Fandom: Narcos

Rating: Mature-There is angst, fluff and smut if you squint really, really hard. 😊

Central Characters: Reader/Pena/Murphy

Central Relationship: Pena/Reader

Word Count: 3,478

AO3

Please do not copy or reblog my work without tagging me

Music inspiration: The Pretty Reckless

SUMMARY:

A tumultuous relationship with a fellow DEA agent, is marked by tension and unspoken feelings. Can a growing affection, mixed with reckless behavior, drugs, death, money and power, really survive? From Bogota, to Miami, to Rome, how far will it go?

A Broken Silence

As the last of the Cali Cartel fell, like little toy soldiers, she wondered what was next. She’d been down in Columbia, longer than she’d lived back in the states. It had taken years of dedication, long fucking days and even longer nights. Elise thought of the hundreds of people that had died, gotten hooked on blow and for what? Power and money. That was the root cause of it all, power and money. She’d been assigned to Columbia a year after she became DEA. They told her she’d be an asset, it turned out to be a load of shit. Women agents were looked at as glorified secretary’s but that was until she met Pena and Murphy. Pena looked at her like a piece of meat, Murphy actually used her intelligence to their advantage. Did she ever actually make it into the field? Yep, as an undercover hooker, Pena’s idea of course. His exact words to her, as she stood there in a slinky red dress was, she had a body, might as well use it. That was the first time she hit him. The second time was when he drunk on whiskey and made a pass at her.

The three of them had been working together for a year before she realized she actually cared about Pena. She’d been sitting in her car, in the parking lot of the embassy when she saw him pull in, a gangly female crawling out of the passenger seat, as he got out, pressing herself against him, her tongue half way down his throat, his hand on her tit. Part of her wanted to vomit, part of her wanted to punch the whore. She knew the woman was a whore, those were the only types of women Pena seemed to be interested in. It was that afternoon, the dynamic of the relationship changed between them because she realized she’d been jealous and the only reason a woman was jealous was because she wanted him. She wanted all of him but knew it would never happen. Her attitude towards him went from indifference to straight up bitch, Murphy snickering every time she went for a kill. By the time Escobar was riddled with bullets, Pena hated her with a passion, which he made clear before he was sent to DC, Murphy back to Florida and she was right back where she started, glorified secretary.

A month later she had been re-assigned, working with some head honcho on the Cali cartel and the intel needed to break up their little surrender deal they had going, cringing inward when a jean clad hip, found the edge of her desk.

“Well, well, seems something is working out for me, how’s is shaken Tanner?” “Are you fucking serious right now Pena? I am working with you? Again? Can someone please tell me who I pissed off in a past life?” “Probably the devil himself hermosa.”

“Don’t, don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Come in here thinking I won’t deck you for bein a polla.”

“Whoa, Spanish is improving.” 

“Get the hell off my desk Pena and go find yourself a whore. I’m sure there were slim pickins in D.C.”

“You offering?”

“Vete al infierno.”

“Already there babe.”

Getting off her desk, he went into his office, slamming the door, watching the glass rattle before he threw himself in the chair behind his desk. Fuck, he thought Elise would have been stateside by now, along with Murphy but as luck would have it, she was here to torment him. It was hard seeing her right now, needing to focus on Cali but he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Fuck she was still beautiful and her temper gave her skin a glow that most women he knew would kill for. Closing his eyes, he remembered all the nights he thought of her. Imagining his hands twisted in thick, curly brown hair, looking into eyes so brown, they were almost black, as he slid into her, marking her as his. He not only wanted her but had fallen in love with her. He wasn’t sure when it happened or how but he realized it the day he had been shipped to D.C. thinking his career was over, sitting in an airport bar with Murphy. Murphy knew it and told him to do something about it before it was too late. He’d laughed it off before giving his partner a hug, both of them going their separate ways. Well God had a sense of humor, he thought as he walked in, seeing her sitting there in jeans and a t-shirt, chewing on a pencil as she read the file on her desk. Yea he was so screwed and not in the way that made him want a drink and a smoke.

The next six months were unbearable, her nerves frazzled when it was all over, thrilled when they gave her a month before she was going to her next post in Miami. Just because Cali fell in Columbia didn’t mean the drug trafficking did, since it was still all about power and money. What was that saying, he who dies with the most toys wins? Well, these bastards were gonna make sure they had all the toys and more.

Sitting on a bar stool, surrounded by co-workers, they celebrated with food and drinks, the beer and tequila flowing freely, except for Pena, who leaned more towards whiskey.

“To victory,” Javi toasted, his eyes lingering on Elise longer than necessary.

“To victory,” she echoed, smiling, but there was a wistfulness in her eyes that Javi couldn’t decipher. As the night wore on, one drink led to another to another and before she could stop and form thought, she found herself in Pena’s apartment, passion flaring between them like an arc of lighting. His lips found the base of her throat, suckling at the skin and come morning, it would be a purple blossom of broken blood vessels. Fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt before she grabbed the sides, yanking as hard as she could, buttons pinging to the floor before they moved to his belt. She wanted him knowing in the morning she’d be gone. One night wouldn’t kill her, right?

Fuck, he thought, as he yanked her t-shirt off her frame, breasts held in place by a wisp of lace, was this really fucking happening right now? Her skin was warm and soft beneath his hands as he undid the button on her jeans, hand sliding into the waistband, his mind focused on one thing, and he almost died right there as he slid his fingers into her depths, feeling how wet she was. God fucking damn he wanted her, laid out in his bed, beneath him, his body marking her as his.

She moaned against his mouth as his fingers slid into her, the pad of his thumb against her clit, every nerve over firing, sending dopamine coursing through her, limbs melting from one feeling to another until they were both naked, not remembering if they had even stopped kissing at this point. He was rough with her, one hand tangled in her hair while the other slid under her knee, teeth nipping at her earlobe. Reaching between them, hand wrapping around the thickness of his cock, she positioned him at her entrance, his name a whisper into the space between them.

That was all it took for his control to snap like a rubber band wound too tight and he slammed into her. He held still for all of thirty seconds before he lost control, hips bucking against her like teenager having sex for the first time. She was warm, wet, tight, her skin sweet on the tip of his tongue as he dragged it across one nipple before moving on to the other, lips attached themselves to the skin of her collar bone, sucking on it, knowing he would mark her there just as he did to the left side of her neck. He knew some thought hickies were tacky but he didn’t give a fuck. When she walked the streets of Columbia, he wanted everyone to know she was taken. He pulled out of her so violently, he wondered if he’d hurt her, but that thought was fleeting as he flipped her over, bringing her to her knees, fingers digging into her hips as he pulled her back, sliding into her with no remorse for the brutality of it. He was feeding his soul with her body and she was allowing it. He exploded violently within her as her orgasm hit, her walls clenching around his hardness made it impossible not to, his name screamed out into the sex filled air surrounding them. Arms wrapped around her, his chest against her back, holding onto her for a moment before he left go, collapsing on his back.

Her body had a mind of its own at this point, falling on her side, facing him, watching as he took in deep gulps of air. He turned to look at her, eyes making contact, it was like they had just seen each other for the first time and there was something so intense in his stare and she felt it within her soul, feeling as if he knew everything about her and still wanted her, wondering if he actually cared, if all the hate fueled words he’d thrown at her, was a façade. She shook her head, displacing those thoughts as she moved over him, wondering how many more times they could lose themselves in the moment before dawn streaked across the sky of Columbia.

He woke up to an empty bed, reaching out, only to find Elise’s side cold. Panic surged through him as he saw a note on the pillow.

*Javi, 

Watch your back. Be safe. 

Elise.*

Fuck, he thought, as his heart sank, crumbling the note and throwing it across the room. He’d never been good with words, especially when it came to expressing feelings. He’d cared for Elise, but kept that buried, not wanting emotions involved because they were a distraction in the dangerous world they’d been living in. But now, that time was up down here, he realized he couldn’t let her go and now he had to find her.

Finding her hadn’t been as easy as he thought it would be. By the time he got cleaned up and to the embassy, he found out that everything was being sent to the field office in Miami, her next assignment. He wasn’t due to leave Bogota for another week. By the time he got to Miami, his nerves were on fire, feeling like he was always just one step behind her. She’d checked in with the field office but twenty-four hours later, she’d gone on vacation and no one knew where, all they could tell him is she wasn’t due back to the office for a month. Where the fuck could she go for a month?

It took him two days and breaking protocol, something he did with ease; to find out she was in Rome. How the fuck was he going to find her there? He’d never been to Rome and no idea where to start. That was when he broke into her new apartment, searching for any clue and found just the name of a museum, Galleria Borghese. What the fuck was he doing, chasing some woman across the fuckin world? This was out of character for him, he was the fuck em, use em, kick em to the curb kind of man but now he was standing at a ticket counter, passport in hand, heading to Italy.

Everything she’d done since she landed were things she did on the fly. There was no rhyme or reason to where she went, how she spent her days, just happy to be away from drugs and death. Don’t get her wrong, she loved her job but Columbia had taken a lot out of her and she needed time to breathe, to find herself again. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Javi. The night they shared had been everything she had ever wanted, and yet, she knew it was impossible. Maybe that was part of the reason she’d come here instead of staying close to home. Maybe she was running and didn’t even know it. Maybe she was just a tad crazy about a man who went through women like he did cigarettes.

She wandered around Rome, trying to take in what was around her from Vatican City, to The Colosseum, every art museum and tonight to the Trevi Fountain. She’d learned that it was best to go at night, the crowds were not as bad and to make sure she threw three coins into to the water. Gelato in hand, she was standing at the edge of the fountain, the white marble still warm from the sun that had beat down on it from the day. Even she had to admit that it was beautiful and again that is when her mind went back to Javi. Fuck, why the hell did she had to be in love with that man? He was more a man of action, not of words. She had seen him break hearts before, and knew she was just another casualty.

The Trevi Fountain loomed ahead, Javi been all over the tourist places and had come up empty. He was frustrated, pissed and was beginning to wonder if he should just go back home and wait however there was one small problem, he was not a patient man, anyone who worked with him could tell ya that much. When he reached the fountain, the third time he’d been there, the coins glinted at the bottom, knowing each one was a wish, a hope and without a coin to toss in, he couldn’t help but think about his own wish, to find Elise. He was too stubborn, refusing to go back and wait. That was when he saw her, sitting at the very edge of the fountain, rubbing fingers over his eyes to make sure it really was her. About fuckin time, he thought, as he watched her throw a single coin over her shoulder. He moved towards her, pushing his way through the crowd, ignoring annoyed mutters and sharp glares of the other tourists he jostled aside. He was less than a foot away from her before he stopped, “What did you wish for?”

Shock couldn’t even begin to describe the look on her face when she saw him standing there, asking what she’d wished for. He looked out of place among the tourists and well everything that Rome was but his eyes were intense, filled with determination, a look she’d seen before when they were in Columbia. “Javi what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I came for you.”

“Why? My assignment in Columbia is over, so is yours so I am a little confused as to again why you’re here.”

Grabbing her hand, he began tugging her away from the fountain, looking for someplace where they could talk, finding a doorway, he pushed her back against the old, faded brick, kissing her, tongue slipping into her mouth, tasting lemon against her lips before he pulled away from her. “Why the fuck did you leave Bogota without saying goodbye?”

“Wait you came all the way to fuckin Italy to ask me that? Are you insane?”

“No. Yes. Fuck. I came here because I didn’t realize until I woke up to an empty bed, a fucking note, and you gone, that I love you.”

“You have lost your mind. Javi please don’t do this because I seriously can’t handle it. I’ve seen you with other women, I’ve seen you use them, hell I’ve seen you break them, and I can’t be just another one in a long line of em.”

“You��re not,” he said. “You’re not just another one of them. Te quiero hermosa.”

“Yea heard you say that a time or two. Look, what happened that night, it was, and this is not to feed your ego, was amazing but I am also not stupid. I can’t take the chance that this is nothing more than a fling and, in the end, the only one picking up the pieces is me as you move on to whoever can give you intel on whatever big bad you’re chasing.”

“God you fucking talk too much.” He kissed her again, hands wrapping in the thickness of her hair, before he nipped his way to her shoulder, teeth and lips, digging into the curve of muscle and sinew, suckling until he heard her gasp, her fingers digging into his hips. The tip of his tongue ran over the red mark on her skin, knowing he marked again, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now every man in Rome will know that you belong to me.”

“I am not a possession Javier Pena.”

“Fuck I didn’t mean it that way. God damn it, Elise. No one is fuckin perfect but I’m standing in the middle of a fucking country I’ve never been to, chasing you around the globe wanting you, no one else, why can’t you see that?”

She stood frozen for a moment, eyes wide with shock, his words hitting her like the tidal wave crashing over her. Taking a deep breath, she slowly let it out, “Because I don’t want to be hurt, can’t you understand that? I’ve been in love with you, all this time and there is a part of me that wants you too, to love all the parts you are. Demanding, possessive, passionate, asshole, dedicated. The risk? Of this? Of believing you want me this much is something I don’t know how to handle.”

“It’s not going to be cut and dry baby. It ain’t like intel where you dissect it all. Just feel it.” He took a deep breath, frustration giving away to relief, stepping closer, eyes locking onto hers. “I get it hermosa, never been down this road before with anyone. Scared shitless that I’ll fuck it up but let’s try to see where this goes.”

Feeling the warmth of his body against her, hearing all the words, let’s be honest, every woman wants to hear, “Okay,” she whispered, voice barely audible. Something in the back of her mind was telling her this was a mistake, of the highest, but fuck it, she thought, because she didn’t want to be that person who turns a hundred and has regrets. Fingers tugged on the belt loops of his jeans, she pulled him closer, tongue tracing the outline of his jugular, skin tangy with the salt of his sweat.

His breath caught as she pulled him closer, feeling her mouth against his throat. “I just want to get away from all of this. Just you and me, away from the crowds, from everything. I want to be alone with you, beneath me. Fuck we need to go now or I am going to take you against this building and we’re getting arrested.”

As dawn began to creep along the city, fingers pinched her nipples as she straddled him, hips rolling in circles, his cock buried deep within her body, he pulled her down to him, lips hard and demanding against hers, devouring her orgasm as his spilled into her depths, her heartbeat erratic against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.

His name was whispered breathlessly, her voice trembling with the aftermath of their orgasms, feeling his embrace tighten around her, hands now trailing down her back, she pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips as she rolled off of his body, laying on her side. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. We should stay in today, order room service.”

Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her towards him, a hand cupping her breast, nipple still erect beneath his palm. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of you hermosa, so I am in agreement with you on that. Te amo.”

“Yo también te quiero, cariño.”

“Getting better with the Spanish.”

“Been practicing.”

Fuck, he thought, hearing his native language fall from her lips, he was in deep with her and it was a realization that hit him with a force of a hurricane, watching her as her eyes drifted closed, breathing steady as she fought staying awake, losing the battle. How the fuck had he fallen for her? He, who had always kept emotions in check, as he whored his way through Bogota, taking down drug cartels, not wanting involvement. Figured he would be scared out of his fucking mind but he wasn’t. The last thought he had before sleep claimed him? How he could get re-assigned to Miami.