#yet. against my will my body is completely heat intolerant.

[beeseverywhen]

People talk a lot about how our houses are designed to keep heat in here and to an extent yes they are right however I must say, I feel like there's a real untouched market in the fact that there definitely are types of British homes that are particularly good at staying cool. (Well better than the rest).

Which tbh is saying something considering how shit most houses are at actually keeping in heat as they are actually supposed to. (Had a really interesting conversation with a Scandinavian woman who was saying how intolerable English winters are for her because our houses are so poorly insulated that it's a lot harder to keep her home here warm vs the house she had before in a much colder country.)

Anyway I hate estate agents with a passion but I really do think they are missing a trick with their advertising here because in my experience there's a subsection of UK housing that does do a lot better in the heat and they tend to be properties that aren't very desirable for other reasons. So like typically English flats, built in non residential areas in small blocks? Are always so much cooler. Especially those on ground floors/ basement levels, with not many windows. The heat just doesn't reach them. The older ones tend to have thick walls too which really helps and they tend to face in to internal communal hallways, also without many windows, which function like cool boxes.

Keeping my house warm in the winter is nigh impossible but as long as I keep the curtains drawn in the summer it stays consistently cool in here and I think i largely have the lack of windows, few outside walls, the building being overshadowed by the nearby communal buildings to thank for that. During a heatwave it's always the ppl i know in houses like mine that are more comfortable in their houses and its always the ones that keep the windows and curtains closed rather than open (ppl say you should have them open in the day for airflow, those ppl are wrong. It's too humid here for daytime air to make your house any cooler than just keeping the hot air out. These ppl get stuck in a cycle. Once the hot airs in you need to open the windows. If you don't let it in the air inside stays dry and cooler than outdoors.)

[adiluv-moved]

♡ ､､ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 !

꒰summary—wc꒱ poor, poor rosalyne. 1173 words.

꒰warnings꒱ major character death, angst w/ unhappy ending, reader is a fatui soldier, barely edited.

꒰adi moment꒱ still can't believe they robbed us of playable signora when she's literally my wife and we're literally happily married and just celebrated our anniversary together smhhh ꒰struggling to cope꒱! would like to be delulu and hope she gets revived somehow, cuz she fr deserves it. anyway, hope you enjoy! ໒꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀི১

Celestia does not pity the sinners.

When you'd first found yourself involved with the Fatui, your failure to pay back your father's loans indebting you to the organization, you'd already known that you'd be destined for a bad ending. When you'd first found yourself being placed beneath the authority of the Eight Harbinger, you were surprised that Celestia did not strike you down right then and there. Namely, because unlike the other wide-eyed recruits that stood at the entryway of her manor, your cheeks were not tinted pink by the sub-zero temperatures. 

She was an interesting person, laced in webs of contradiction and mystery. She boasted a haughty personality, a sharp tongue that could slice through the egos of even her most self-conceited underlings. She dressed herself in luxurious shades of red, hair elegantly styled and makeup perfectly applied. But there was something strange that lurked beneath the surface of icy-blue eyes, like a flame, one that was too stubborn to be snuffed out—brazen, and burning beneath layers of snow and frost. Her face was fair, long hair draped over half of it, but in moments where she turned too fast, or the wind picked up, you could see charred flesh beneath it—a reminder, it seemed, to something she wished to forget.

Her home was warm, the furniture all imported from Mondstadt, a land of freedom that many deserters fantasized about escaping to. A fire burned within the servant's quarters, your colleagues and you huddling by it whenever the night fell and you'd been released from your duties. And yet, despite the feelings of positivity that her choices in furnishings tried to radiate, she seemed to be a bitter woman—locked in invisible shackles and tugged along like a doll. 

Oh, and you knew she was aware of your blind devotion, aware of the way that your back straightened up whenever you heard her heels clicking against wood paneling, aware of the sparks of awe that danced around in still-bright eyes.

What you didn't know, however, was the fact that she'd reward it.

The feeling of her arms languidly wrapping themselves around your waist, tugging you close and trapping you on her lap as she'd complete paperwork. The feeling of long nails gracefully sifting through your hair, tugging out any tangles she'd find along the way because, of course, she was not one to be deterred—and it was impossible to be annoyed by this trait when she'd coo so gently in response to your whimpers. The feeling of your lips on hers, flesh soft but oh so cold, with a near intolerable heat that thrummed beneath it. 

All these feelings, and the ways that she'd allow you to spoil yourself in her love. But how, so quickly, she'd push you from her embrace the second a knocking came at her door, leaving you to compose yourself within a second as she beckoned for her visitors to enter. How they'd leave, and in the next second you'd already be draping yourself against her, bodies intertwining in a hardly useful attempt to combat the room's constant chill. ꒰At the very least, it was more effective for her than you.꒱

How the pathway to her personal chambers would become so familiar, with her commanding you to come and meet her after all of the other soldiers you shared your quarters with drifted off to sleep. And, oh, how you'd listen, awoken before the crack of dawn by the feeling of her lips and a soft hum in order to scurry back before anybody could note your disappearance.

When did all of those feelings become familiar to you?

And, when did those feelings become strange once again?

"The Eighth is dead?!" You hear, once again, a shrill shriek that grates on your eardrums as it reverberates through the common room. Another Fatuus has just been informed of her fate, it seems, a newer recruit from the House of Hearth that you hadn't had the chance to properly introduce yourself to. Not that it even mattered anymore. 

You sigh, for what seems like the hundredth time within the hour, a futile attempt at keeping the tears brimming in your eyes from spilling over, from keeping the wail bubbling inside of your throat from escaping.

La Signora is dead. 

Your lover, dead.

Dead, in a foreign land, practically on the other side of Teyvat, on a mission she'd insisted she'd return alive from.

Dead, on a mission that—when you'd initially questioned her about it—caused a prideful sneer to emerge on her face, familiar fingers gently pinching your lips shut as she teased you for your concern.

Dead, on a mission that she'd outright refused to let you accompany her on, half-jokingly stating that she didn't wish for the other Harbingers stationed there to catch a glimpse at you—stating that they might just fall in love at first glance, and she didn't want to share.

Looking back, you should've protested her decision more, insisted more instead of looking away to hide the red hue dusting your cheeks. You should've begged, even, instead of allowing her to steal a kiss from you, lips lingering with an unspoken promise of return that could now never be fulfilled. You should've followed, even if it would've made her upset, instead of allowing her to depart from the estate and board the one-way ship at the harbor, leaving you behind for good. 

Anything, anything. You should've—would've done anything, if it had the chance of making her stay.

Unlike her fellow Harbingers, you would not be granted the honors of peering into her casket, witnessing her remains before her manor—and her, by extension—are sealed away forever—a memory hidden away in the snow. ꒰You cannot decide if that makes you relieved or upset, because thinking about it for too long instead makes you wish to vomit.꒱ 

Instead, you are made to pack your belongings, flowers native to Mondstadt that she'd gifted you pressed beneath your pillow—not that you even slept on it all that often to begin with. You hold them as though they're made of glass, hands trembling and vision blurring as you attempt to keep even a single one of your teardrops from sullying them.

"What a shame, it is, that she was so far out of the Archons' favor." Comes a hushed murmur from another soldier, a recruit who'd been enlisted around the same time as you, devout to the point where you'd questioned their motivations for joining the ranks of such a morally ambiguous force.

A bitter laugh escapes your mouth at that, shoulders tensing as it devolves into nothing more than a strained sob. And while a part of you aches to destroy them, to rip them apart in some cruel way of reminding yourself that whatever you had with that woman is gone—you don't—simply shoving them back into their hiding space, hoping that they're also preserved within the icy wasteland that will soon take over your old home.

Poor, poor Rosalyne. 

Celestia does not pity the sinners. 

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[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

Infatuated

Mammon x GN MC

Pronouns: You | POV: Second

Tags: Soft smut, intense emotional feelings, 18+

My AO3

Dim flickering from the forgotten movie playing in the background set a soft ambience in your bedroom as you sat on top of Mammon. The shifting light gave his eyes a soft gleaming effect, and the flecks of gold in them glowed, intensifying the look of absolute adoration and tenderness Mammon was showing you.

You felt him in you, the pulsating heat making you clench around him and a smoldering hotness tingled your whole body. You thought you might melt with the passion that engulfed you.

Mammon nuzzled into your hand as you cupped one of his cheeks – it felt flushed and hot – and kissed the edge of the palm. You traced your thumb along his lips, soft yet dry. Inwardly, you wanted to drink up everything he had to offer you. Sliding your hand down, you lightly gripped his throat, feeling the faint palpitations of his heart under his skin.

You tilted his head back, and a shadow enveloped his glimmering eyes into dark blue pools that had you transfixed. If you gazed long enough, the yearning greed that resided in them threatened to drown you.

Mammon brought you back into the moment with a shift of his hips, pressing into you, and you startled, surprised by the sudden movement. It made the embers in your stomach stir wildly. You wanted to prolong the intimate connection, of feeling him being in you, but it was intolerable to keep waiting for much longer.

Pressing your legs into the mattress, tightening their grip against Mammon’s waist, you lifted yourself up, feeling an intense aching of emptiness, though, only for a moment. You lowered back onto Mammon too quickly, and a hot pleasure jolted your nerves. Your mind went fuzzy for a second, and the only thing you could think to do was remember Mammon. You gripped his hands tightly, digging your nails into skin, pressing your moist palms together to stay tethered to one another, the only physical anchor you had to keep from slipping into the mental state of euphoria that was eclipsing you from everything else unrelated to Mammon.

You concentrated on him - on his expressions, every crease and pinch of his eyebrows, the way his mouth trembled and broke apart for little sucks of air or breathless gasps. He must have felt you looking at him – as he always seems to do when you linger watching him too long, captivated by all his actions and smiles – because his eyes fluttered open. He returned your dazed stare with a fervent one. His grip equalled your own, and somehow that little action provoked you more, tingling sensations shooting through your arms.

You felt him so deeply. Mammon lifted and heaved, moving in tandem with your own movements.

You wanted to indulge in every sense. Internalize, memorize, fix in your mind every waking moment of this night – each quivered sigh and warbled moan, the mixing smells of natural scents and his cologne and sweat and lust, all the touches, intentional and not, light and possessive. The way Mammon was shaping your insides. The way you felt elated and content and loved. The way your heart ached from loving him so much. The way it hurt so much. You wanted to savor it all.

It was too much, though, the physical feelings and emotions rolling through you like a hurricane. Hot pleasure erupted through your body, euphoric spasms sapping your energy with each shudder. You dropped forward, a lack of strength from exhaustion, but caught yourself from completely falling.

Arms embraced you into their hold and tugged you down. Resting against Mammon’s chest, you heard the racing heartbeats settling, and it stirred something inside you. You were the cause of his accelerated heart rate, his labored breathing, the blissful look he had resting while hugging you. Like how he had so many effects on you, this was what you were capable of doing to him.

You buried your face into his neck, peppering it with kisses, light ones and deep ones that would definitely leave marks. You shifted to reach his clavicle, and you started suckling against his salty skin, marring it with a trail of love bites to the other side. By the time you were done, it looked like a necklace of red marks.

It was beautiful. It marked him as yours - physically, momentarily. Your love was bruised on him for anyone to see.

[nekomacheercaptain]

Day 4: Donquixote Doflamingo x fem! reader

In this setting, you're a maid in the Donquixote family's residence, and you're Doflamingo's favorite little plaything.... I realized I could check off a lot of the kink prompts with just this alone heheh oh well, he brings out a dark side of me I guess

Word count: 1,3K

Content: female reader, size kink, fingering, degradation, ball gag, restraints, creative use of devil fruit powers, dacryphilia, belly bulge, very rough sex, big power dynamic, BDSM

Doflamingo’s hand found your pussy, his long, mean fingers spreading your lips as your ass was high in the air, face pressed down to your mattress. A position you spent most of your days in ever since the captain of the Donquixote family decided you would be more than just a maid; you became his favorite plaything. You heard the sound of a bottle of lube opening, before feeling the cold liquid against your heat, gasping at the sensation. His fingers softly stroked the lubricant through your folds before sliding up to your entrance, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Due to his inhuman size, his finger was almost the size of an average male’s dick on its own, making you hiss and gasp at the stretch.

“In just a matter of months you’ve gone from barely being able to take my fingers to taking half of my cock inside that tight little pussy of yours,” his husky voice darkened behind you as he thrust his finger inside your pulsating walls, leaving you a gaspy and breathy mess, “you’re such a good whore, sucking me in~”.

The thrust of his finger created a squelching sound that had your cheeks burning as it got nastier with each movement, rubbing your walls deliciously inside of you, wetness starting to pool out of your cunt. Another finger accompanied the one already stretching you, making you arch your back as you cried out a moan.

“There it is, good doll, keep it like that,” he praised your arch while slapping your asscheek with his freehand, the other aggressively thrusting inside your squelching pussy, his slender fingers curling and hitting that sweet, spongy spot that has your legs shaking and his name rolling off your tongue. Your mind was hazy, and yet you realized he had never allowed you to feel pleasure alone, especially this long. 

When his fingers could easily slip in and out of your cunt, he added a third finger before stretching his fingers to your entrance’s limit, laughing as he saw your gaping hole, your walls clenching around nothing but air. He relaxed his fingers to continue massaging your sensitive walls and violently searched for your sweet spot, making you drool on your sheets. A string was pulling inside your body, filling your insides with unbearable heat, leaving you panting beneath the giant of a man as you were desperately moaning for more, relishing in the feeling of finally being allowed selfish pleasure.

“You’re gonna be a good girl? Gonna be a good whore for me?” you weren’t really paying attention to his words, but mewled out your answer with a tirade of ‘yes’. His fingers sped up inside of you, the string inside of your core getting intolerably tight, making tears form in your eyes as you needed to come, begging the man for release.

“Fuck,” he snickered, but his laugh was painted with arousal, the pornographic sight in front of him making his cock almost tear through his pants. He saw how his slick fingers easily fucked your drenched cunt, savoring the sound of the sinful squelching they created, along with your horny, mindless moans. After a few more thrusts of his fingers, he felt your walls clench uncontrollably around his digits as he looked down and saw your mouth slightly parted, brows scrunched together in pleasure, quiet sighs and moans leaving your lips.

The string inside you had snapped, making warmth flood through your body, stars filling your vision as you felt yourself being weightless; utter and complete euphoria spoiled you, making you never want to leave such a plane of existence. 

Doflamingo kept fucking your pussy until he saw you spasming beneath him, too sensitive to be touched so close after your first orgasm in some time. He raised his brow when he saw a tired smile tugging on your lips.

“Didn’t expect that, hm?” he asked you, easing his fingers out of you, hearing you hiss, before helping you back on your knees.

“….no,” you dared to be honest, ready to get a scolding, but he only gave you a deep laugh, before forcing his fingers in your mouth.

“Clean up your mess, hm?,” he grinned down at you when you did as you were told, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue cleaned your own slick off of his fingers, your lips stretching around his way bigger-than-average digits. When he was satisfied, he pulled his wet fingers out of your mouth with a small pop, before hooking his finger beneath your chin. He placed his thumb on your lower lip, stroking it carefully as he made you look up at his sunglasses, seeing the reflection of your disheveled self.

“Now it’s my turn, doll,” and he gave you a grin you knew meant you’d be unable to walk for the next few days.

Face pressed against the mattress by a foot longer than your forearm, you could only gag and whimper against the ball in your mouth, while your arms were tied behind your back with his strings, your ass sore from the rough thrusts and palms that always eagerly abused your skin and insides.

“You’re able to take more of me, you feel that hm? Feel how much deeper I am inside your pussy?” his laugh sent shivers down your spine as you huffed and grunted against the gag at each powerful thrust he fucked into you, your tears and drool staining the sheets beneath you. His hand snaked down your waist and landed on the bulged-out part of your tummy, feeling his cock on the other side of the layers of skin and fat separating it from his hand, growling at the sensation.

“Doesn’t it feel good being such a slutty little whore?” He grunted, his freehand slapped your rear again, reveling in the sting of his palm, seeing you arch your back at the impact, suddenly grabbing a fistful of your hair, forcing your gaze forwards as his foot stepped off of you.

“I know you love it, just look at you,“ he reminded you of the mirror placed in front of the bed in your lounge, forcing you to look at his frame absolutely dwarfing your small one, seeing how your ass bounced off his hips, as well as seeing how much drool ran down your chin from the gag, a mix of tears in it as well as your ruined mascara, staining your cheeks. From the steep angle he had you in, you saw that a lot of his girth still hadn’t even penetrated you. 

“And everyone thinks you are the most innocent person here,” he chuckled, his breath barely strained, “But that’s a lie, doll, you’re able to take me”.

His thrusts got slower, trying to inch his cock deeper into your cunt, seeing your lips stretched out around him, feeling your tight walls struggle to accommodate his size, causing him to grunt above you. Loud moans and grunts accompanied by whimpers and cries managed to escape the ballgag he had bound tight in your mouth. Your small sounds turned him on even more, and you saw his smile grow wicked in the mirror.

“So fucking noisy, maybe I’ll get rid of that soon to hear you scream~” he forced his cock even deeper inside of you, the slightly painful, yet arousing stretch knocking the breath out of your chest, your nose struggling to take in enough air for your lungs.

“We’ve got all the time in the world, doll, to make you take all of me,” he growled, before setting a ruthless pace, his huge hands suddenly around your waist pulling you up in the air as his length hit hidden spots inside of you, his pace never faltering. You were just a ragdoll to him, allowing him to handle you however he wanted.

I couldn't give you an answer if you asked me why I am attracted to this awful, horrible man... other than he's fucking hot and insane (my biggest weaknesses). Thank you for reading, and hope you enjoyed!

[littlefreya]

As I was saying

Summary: You recently found out that you’re pregnant and Henry is being all sorts of over-protective and annoying about it and won’t shut up about what you should or shouldn’t eat. So you find a creative way to shut him up...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader (no description of body type or ethnicity thought it’s mention that Henry is taller)

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+, RPF, fluff to smut, early pregnancy, blow job, bodily fluids, slight FemDom/SubMale, My overuse of poetic sex metaphors, cottagecore!

*No permission is given for reposting my work, copying it, or parts from it.

A/N: This story was born out of a convo I had with my sweet @the-soot-sprite​ about the photo above. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ my solid rock who betas all my work and to @firefly-graphics​ for the dividers

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed my story. I work hard on each one of them and your validation means the world to me. 🖤

As I was Saying

Henry’s velvety voice carried through the cottage like seductive vapours of honey liqueur. It wasn’t often that he'd sing a blissful tune so casually out of the blue—after earth-shattering sex perhaps, which indeed you had the night before. However, this morning, his chants were laced with a new flavour of sugary bliss. 

Two little pink stripes. That's all it took for his eyes to shimmer the way precious cobalt is kissed by a moonlight glow.

Sneaking about in the mien of a curious little mouse, you trod after the pleasant tune of his voice, which was now accompanied by a soft rustle. Wander laved your face once you leaned against the kitchen door frame, peering at the prodigious man who stood in front of the open fridge. 

Preoccupied, he appeared to be ransacking through the shelves with the song ‘Cheek to Cheek’ thrumming on his tongue.

“Heaven... I'm in heaven…”  

Fingers clutching at the edge of the wall, you pressed into the chilled surface with a relaxed smirk, lingering on the irresistible view when your ease of mind faded with a blink of an eye — while methodically rummaging through the fridge, Henry threw fresh food straight into an open trash can.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice rising to a high-pitched yip. 

Henry made a soft flex; the muscles of his back rippled in a tidal motion. Though acknowledging your presence, he proceeded to hover a finger over different products. 

“Cleaning up the fridge," he answered absentmindedly.

With a soft shove, there went your French cheese. 

“That’s brand new!” you protested and rushed toward him, alarmed. 

Towering over the trash can, you considered diving in to salvage the precious bulk of cheese from the dreary pit. Henry glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, testing your resolve while his claw grabbed some papaya salad leftovers and pushed it over the edge of the shelf, joining the rest of the discarded meals. 

“It is,” he nodded and closed the refrigerator door, carrying on to the high cabinets. With a slight wrinkle between his brows and a hand scratching the stubbles of his dimpled chin, he narrowed his eyes to scrutinise the items carefully. “I'm pregnant-proofing the kitchen. I called Hanna while you were asleep. She created a proper daily menu for you with the dos and don’ts: less sugar, more veggies and protein.” 

It took you a moment to process his words, your eyes narrowing while asking, “Hanna? As in Hanna, your nutritionist?”

Henry nodded at your question, a faint crease lining his cheek. “That’s the one. Don't worry, princess, she specialises with pregnant women.”

Unwittingly, a somewhat inhuman growl sounded in your chest. You were only getting used to the idea of developing another person inside you, and here stood your husband, already seeing fit to dictate your diet. Slithering into the narrow space between the heavy man and the counter, you tilted your chin to meet his stare while your fists pressed into your hips assertively. 

“Listen here, Cavill! You might have jizzed me one too many and succeeded in putting a baby in there, but this is still my body. I can take care of my own pregnancy diet.”

With an arm stretched above your head, Henry offered a charming display of pearly whites to pacify your strained nerves. His dimples nearly managed to beguile your senses when your eyes flared at the sight of what was held between his long fingers.

“No! Henry, no! Not the coffee!”

“Oh, I’m afraid so, my love. You shouldn’t have any caffeine at your current state.” Despite his argument, the tenderness of his gaze stroked upon your face like a warm ray of sunlight piercing through heavy clouds. Lazily it dropped to your belly, the cascading heat cradling your unborn child. 

Words of protest left you for a sliver of a moment, too in awe of the dreamy grin on his face. 

Thoughts of how beautiful you’d look rounded and full with his child illuminated him that you swore his skin developed a glow over the night. Didn’t they always say women are radiant when they are pregnant? Well, it seemed that in your case, it applied to your husband as well.

The charming haze of bliss almost swallowed you up; but you quickly slapped yourself back into reality, reaching a hand in an attempt to stop Henry from throwing away your delicacy. Though taller, Henry held his hand far out of reach, a hint of a smugness stretching his lips.

“A pregnant woman is allowed to have a little bit of caffeine!” You muttered and sent both hands in an attempt to retrieve the box while Henry teased you by throwing it from one hand to the other, further fueling your annoyance. 

Vexed to the point of frustration, you stood still and sighed, “you know what else is bad for the baby?” 

Henry paused his foolish games and tilted his head as he waited to hear your answer.

“His father at the morgue after I’ll kill him. Now stop that and hand it over! A pregnant woman can have a cup a day, according to Google.” 

“Nope,” Henry clicked his tongue, his laughter replaced with a severe stare. “Love, I know they say it’s okay to have a teeny bit, but I’ve been doing some research while you were asleep, and it’s not recommended. Caffeine increases heart rate and blood pressure, which is not good for you nor for the baby. It also increases urination, which may cause dehydration.”

Clenching your jaw at the onslaught of information he bestowed, you watched his lips move while none of his words registered. Preoccupied with the rules of a “healthy” pregnancy, Henry was set on being the practical one, completely forgetting to enjoy the moment. And damn, it was the moment to celebrate. All you wanted right now was to stay in bed for a day, ride your handsome husband to hell and back and eat as much ice cream as possible.

“Everything you eat from now on goes to our baby,” Henry proceeded to lecture on a thing you were perfectly aware of.

Ire found you within seconds, embroiled with pregnancy hormones which made him further intolerable at the moment— intolerable

... and delicious.  

Soaked with hunger, your eyes raked his sight: the thickness of his muscles was apparent beneath a plain black t-shirt and those good old grey sweats outlined the source of your current predicament. Your fingers twitched just from thinking about it, mimicking the sensation of squeezing its girth and eliciting those low groans that made your heart flutter. 

But his chatter still interrupted your sultry thoughts. If only there was a way to get him to shut up, you mused. Then your eyes focused on the soft bulge that winked back at your hungry glare.

Unaware, Henry turned toward the table to grab a bulk of informative documents he printed earlier in order to educate you of your pregnancy, he licked his thumb and began to read through, “As I was saying….”

Hastily, you exploited his lack of attention and took a step forward, your fingers latching around the hem of his sweats. With one swift movement, you fell to your knees and tugged his trousers along. 

Lost in his passionate speech, Henry was still muttering nonsense when your hand seized him; but as the lushness of your tongue bedded his soft cock without warning, all that could be heard in the kitchen was a husky gasp. 

Feeling the warm silky flesh swell and harden within your mouth, you sent your eyes up to peer at him, admiring the sight. Nothing spoke of your power better than the wrinkle between his shut eyes and his mouth agape with all air draining from his lungs. There you were, lowered to your knees with a maw full of his cock and yet, he was the one who lost his ability to speak and had his legs quaking of need. 

Unable to help yourself, you sent one palm to feel the tremor that ran through the muscles of his thighs while the other cradled his heavy sac. 

“Uh……” he finally managed to utter, a groan of bemused bliss pushing itself between his parted lips. “What… what are you doing?” 

You crooked an eyebrow in response and answered by dragging your mouth along the length of his shaft. Your pillowy lips ran across ridges and thrumming veins, your jaw loosening until you felt him deep in the back of your throat. 

Locked in the cavernous cage of your maw, he tightened his gut and shuddered with pleasure. Though, the low unbridled groans that sputtered from his chest fueled your enticement just as so; memories of how the same thick girth that brimmed your mouth would split open your narrow canal made both your eyes and abandoned cunt tear of desperation.

It always beguiled you how much arousal could be found in bringing him to his rapture without touching yourself. The harder he throbbed on your velvety serpent, the more you soaked.  

With fervent strokes, you feasted on the briny flavour of his cock; the tendons vibrated with bliss while your tongue twirled and pushed around them. You pulled, sucked, and pumped him in your warm mouth, milking the senses of a man infinitely stronger—a man who succeeded in conquering your womb yet now crumbled to nothing at the touch of your tongue.

“Fuck…. Babe… keep going,” Henry breathed out a plea. The documents held by his hand slipped between his fingers as he pressed his palm to the cabinet with a thud, and began to rock his hips back and forth to fuck back into your mouth. Like feathers, the white slips floated around you, landing onto the ground while you worked him to his ecstasy.  

His other hand found your head, caressing lovingly and trying to take control: yet his strength waned and his head fell back with a moan. Faster, harder, you sucked your husband to the point of submission while hums of admiration laced around his rigid length. Your eyes beamed as you watched his resolve shatter. Your fingertips toyed with the coarse hair at the apex of his thighs, your thumb seeking the tendon at the base of his cock and pressing into it, urging him to spill his gift down your throat.

“I’m going to… I’m going to…. In your throat… fuck.”

With a guttural grunt, he thickened against your tongue; the overflow of salty-sweet cream glazed your mouth and then flowed down your flaring throat.

The room thrummed with the buzz of the refrigerator, Henry’s heavy exhales - these were the sounds of your triumph. Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you cracked a smile and neatly pulled his trousers back on before you rose to stand straight. 

Overwhelmed and drenched in sweat, your husband scrutinised you while you reached for the box of capsules and tilted your head.

“You were saying?”

[helliontherapscallion]

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it. 

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends. 

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart. 

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years. 

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same. 

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin. 

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence. 

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony. 

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed. 

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living. 

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again. 

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it. 

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that. 

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again. 

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him. 

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears. 

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book. 

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails." 

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down. 

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed. 

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly. 

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here." 

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up��� Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying." 

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred. 

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks. 

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury. 

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move. 

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting." 

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top. 

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks. 

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few. 

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so. 

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief. 

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading. 

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks. 

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive. 

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks. 

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?" 

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void. 

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this." 

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you." 

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace. 

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you. 

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing. 

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him." 

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen. 

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void. 

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying. 

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors. 

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible? 

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless. 

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air. 

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?" 

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?" 

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance. 

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me." 

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded. 

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just- 

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss. 

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto- 

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve. 

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition. 

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice. 

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years. 

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.” 

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.” 

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.” 

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur. 

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

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

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay. 

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost. 

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. 

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement. 

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!” 

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands. 

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.” 

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person. 

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right? 

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy. 

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes. 

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot. 

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust. 

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy. 

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin. 

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction. 

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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[ayamturd]

kid│technoblade

summary: (requested) an errand run forces techno out of the house; he meets an interesting kid in return

warnings: brief injury description, hinted abandonment, light angst and fluff

pairing: in-game platonic!technoblade

a/n: i took this request and ran so far with it lol. pls enjoy, i loved the reader’s dynamic with techno sm

wc: (4.0k) - m.list

It was hot, the day smothering in the summer heat as the village offered little coverage to the harsh sun. From exploring the lands of the Arctic to walking in the crowded space on the sweltering landscape, Technoblade let out a sigh from how his layered clothing stuck to him; his regal attire was more than slightly uncomfortable and was arguably only for looks then and there. 

Glancing down to the list in his hands once more, he grumbled from the tasks, supplies and ingredients he still needed, openly irritated from being forced on the supply run. Real funny Phil. Hilarious.

He scratched his head, lost to the busy market place as many shoved past him in the busy rush. Technoblade was a warrior, the Blood God, he was someone to be feared and feel threatened by, yet at that very moment he couldn’t be anything less than a lost tourist. 

Technoblade rarely ventured to extremely public places, but he knew he couldn’t return empty handed, the underwhelming mockery he would receive would be just plain annoying. 

With a final sigh of defeat, he decided it best to take each task step by step, that starting with the blacksmith. Now, make no question that Technoblade and Phil weren’t not capable of crafting their own weapon, but at times, the cost of another’s opinion did more help than that of personalized wants. 

It was even hotter once he entered the open store, the burning furnace emitting an almost intolerable intensity that rivaled the burning cold of the Arctic. Rolling his neck, he approached the front desk and unsheathed both Phil’s and his long swords, tossing a small pouch with a chink as payment for restorations and commendations.

Speaking few words in the villager’s tongue, the worker immediately began his assessment when taking the weapons in hand. Techno knew little in the different language, but he understood when the man explained the necessary works and time expectancy. 

He sighed for what felt to be his 15th time that afternoon, but complied when leaning against the counter for the next few minutes; he refused to leave his best weaponry in the hands of a stranger, and would do with the wait until then. 

Picking on the crusted mud that hardened on his fur coat, he jumped when someone slammed into the wood he leaned against, eyes dropping to meet the height of a young adolescent.

Unlike himself, they seemed dressed for the sweltering heat. Their cloak hung loosely from their shoulders, but was bare and thin, either from time or was purposeful from the climate, it was his guess. While they seemed as energetic as someone their age should be, he could tell from experience of the way they stood tall with their chin held high that they were a fighter, someone who seemed cautious of their surroundings by the constant shift in their eyes. 

He also knew they noticed him but was purposefully choosing to ignore him for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell. Coughing, he went back to his useless fiddling. 

They tapped anxiously, their fingers twitching while they looked longingly to the nearest axes, an overwhelming sense of excitement filling the stuffy air. While he tried to ignore them considering how little they could stand still irritated him, he couldn’t deny that they intrigued him. 

“Helloooooooo?” they called out, jumping above the counter and holding themself up with their arms stiff in strength. Techno waited a brief moment while they began yelling louder before rolling his eyes to interrupt them.

“They’re busy right now. Give it a minute, will you?”

His monotoned voice caused them to freeze, and as they slowly turned to meet the sight of him, a huge grin grew on their face. It made his frown grow in return. 

“A minute can be so long in silence, I’m only making it go faster.” Techno scoffed at their words and fully turned his body towards them. His genetics made him tower over them even when slouched, yet while he knew others would cower, the child in front of tilted their head in amusement. 

“By what logic does that make any sense?”

The mischievous teenager followed Technoblade’s posture, mimicking his stance with crossed arms. They jutted their chin out proudly, though it was obvious they were only messing with him further.

“My logic, obviously.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s yours, doesn’t make it right.”

With an annoying quirk of a smile, the small human smirked with feigned innocent eyes.

“Says who?”

Knowing full well that it would a battle in vain, Techno conceded and faced the front desk again, his arms resting against the table as he hung his head down with a huff of air. 

His considered defeat made the young stranger laugh lightly, and they copied his position, but instead held their head in their palms with a small hum. Staring at him intensely, their head rocked in thought for some time before they spoke up. 

“You look miserable.”

It took Techno a large amount of willpower to prevent himself from glaring in their direction, something the child took as a challenge. They filled the silence when Techno left it unattended, leaning closer to him while still in place. 

“I mean, the outfit is sick, I won’t lie. But you just look awful right now. How many layers do you have on anyway?”

Once more, he had to clench his fist tightly to drown out their bothersome questions. The child, as he now deemed it considering how persistent it could be, noted his subtle tensing and bit their lip to smother another coming giggle. 

“Is your crown real? Are you actually royalty? Am I expected to bow in honor or respect? I’m terrible with conversation-“

“So I’ve noticed.” Techno dryly stated, his hand coming to rub the back of his head, exasperated, with a shake. They completely disregard his side comment like he never spoke. 

“-but I never though I’d live to see the day I interact with royalty.”

“I’m not royal, I’m anythin’ but.” Techno’s voice dropped when considering the matter, his narrowed eyes in concentration against his constant fight for Anarchy and destruction. 

His seriousness created a beat of silence in the shop, though without fail, the teenager overlooked his internal monologue.

“Do you have a long, fancy name with numbers and stuff? Like ‘King George the First' or ‘Their majesty, Alas-’”

“No."

“But what about-”

Techno’s groan cut their next range of questions off, and he pushed himself up to stare them down tiredly. 

“You’re a pretty annoyin’ kid, you know that?”

Sitting up when he did, the teen jumped onto the counter backwards, swinging their legs on the edge while gripping the border tightly. They rested their chin on their shoulder with an eased smile as they now matched his height. 

“So I’ve been told.”

The approaching footsteps from the back entry caused the both of them to turn their heads, the young stranger facing to him while Techno’s gaze still remained. 

“But you can’t deny it, I made time go faster.”

Hopping off before they could be scolded, the blacksmith returned with the weapons’ adjustments and the requested engravings Phil asked for, drawing Techno’s attention away from the young stranger. He opened the cloth the worker brought the swords out in, and lifted his own while gripping the grained handle tightly.

Stepping away from the counter, he swung the blade in front of him, tossing it briefly as to adjust to its weight and consider its balance. The wind it generated in the slices of air brought a dark smile to his face. Satisfied with the result, Techno inspected the finer details up close a final time before sheathing it to his side. 

As he went to grab Phil’s, he caught the teen’s awed gape. He chuckled from their open amazement and moved to walk towards the displayed axes behind them. 

“What’s your name, kid?” With his back to them, he reached his hand outward to the various blade sizes, hovering over the edges with careful pressure. 

His question visibly threw them off, and they stuttered before gathering themself. 

“What’s yours?” they asked, eyebrows raised in defense. Techno felt the corner of his mouth lift from their faltering. 

“Technoblade.” He was patient as they swallowed before responding. 

“Y/n.”

Unclasping a light, yet deadly thin battle-blade axe from the wall, Techno eventually turned around to meet them again.  

“No last name?” 

While they smiled, it didn’t reach their eyes as they glanced away with a careless shrug. No origin or proper upbringing, he assumed.

“Never came up with one. Never needed one.”

“Hmm.”

Lifting the axe in hand, Techno gestured to the empty baldric that wrapped tightly around their chest. By their longing stares and stance as a fighter, it didn’t take much to make the connection that they were someone who fought with an axe. 

“What happened to the last one?”

Surprised by his close observation, they brought their hands to the bare hold as if they were searching for it. Unlike the past few minutes in his company, they suddenly became shy and spoke with a guilty smile. 

“O-oh. I, uh, chipped the blade. Wore it down. It’s been a while since I was able to treat myself, I thought it was finally worth the wait to get a new one.”

Shifting on their feet, they grasped one of their arms awkwardly. Despite their previously loud, outward energy, Techno sighed once he saw them as the kid they were; they were someone alone that was forced to survive in the big world, someone he could relate and understand. 

After a moment passed, Techno faced the worker. They had been watching their interaction the entire time and seemed as uncomfortable as they were bored. Without asking for a price, he wordlessly pulled out a handful of emeralds from his drop leg pouch and slammed them on the table surface. 

The blacksmith made sounds of gurgled delight, gathering the gems into his opens hands with furious nods in thanks. Techno only rolled his eyes and shoved the purchased axe forwards, leaving it open in his outreached hands to the child. 

“Save your money. It’s not worth any price they try to sell.”

Switching their sights from the weapon and Technoblade in disbelief, they breathlessly giggled when carefully lifting it from his hold. 

Twirling it easily before striking near the ground, the pulled the new beauty to their chest gratefully. They were at a loss for words, to say the least, and Techno laughed from their frozen shock.

His laughter died down and he decided to take his leave in quick steps. While the teen tried to shout to him in thanks, they were still dazed and couldn’t form words to yell. 

Techno paused at the entrance and dipped his head back, his hand bordering the door frame. He grinned slightly to the point where his sharper canines were visible, and called out to them in departure.

“See you around, kid.”

Bow raised, arrow drawn, Techno crept low on the forest ground with cautious and calculated steps. 

The overgrown leaves above provided a gentle shading that shielded the majority of the sunlight, only few splotches breaking through. It had been too long since Techno went hunting, the sport lost to him since his recent adventures and scenery in the very south. 

As he had been traveling for days on end to meet with his brothers’ call, he thought to gather food and see through with his lost skill; he had devoted a majority of his time in peaceful solitude to farming and raising cattle, he wasn’t as skillful as he used to be. 

Keeping that in mind, as his eyes narrowed from the close rustling of a bush before him and he approached meaningfully, he failed to noticed the grown roots that broke through the dirt. 

With a small yelp, his foot became stuck and he fell hard onto his face.

A small rabbit hopped out of the shrubbery and stopped briefly near him as if in mockery to his embarrassing failure before bouncing away. 

Technoblade groaned, both from pain and the circumstances, and gave up any hope for moving in shame when the voices began to mock him. 

“Well that wasn’t very royal of you.”

While his memory failed him more often than not, he recognized the voice specifically over the chaos that reigned in his ears. Contemplating the next-least humiliating course of actions, he settled on pretending nothing happened. 

“Like I said the last time,” he sighed while pushing himself up, “I’m not royalty.”

Brushing off the dirt that stained his clothes and skin, Techno turned to the child’s voice and jerked startled when their entertained countenance was closer than what he expected. They were hanging upside down with their legs hooked on a low, but sturdy branch. 

Face smug, they crossed their arms and openly snickered. 

“Agreed, you are far less graceful than what I expect them to be.”

Techno shook his head and searched for his bow, the old relic more traditional and practical in comparison to his crossbow for hunting. He hummed when spotting it and tried to shift the conversation. 

“What are you doin’ out here, kid?”

Pulling themself up in a sitting position, they swung their feet wildly and looked around the woodlands with a shrug. 

“I live here.”

Freezing mid crouch with his bow in hand, Techno’s words were slow following after. 

“Out here?”

“Mhmm.”

There was a pause as Techno looked at them confused. His brows furrowed fro their vague input. 

“In the trees?”

“Sometimes,” they sang. Leaping forward, they landed smoothly onto their feet and raised their eyes to the sky. “It depends on my mood, and whether or not I want to see the stars.”

“Ah.”

With that, Techno turned and started to walk away. His hunting attempt was a mistake that cost him a bullying teenager that apparently lived in the woods and was homeless, the voices adding onto his internal torment; he wanted to leave as fast as he could.

Racing their steps ahead of him, y/n began to walk backwards to address him directly. 

“Why are you here? I assume you don’t live near here since you dress like an old, aristocratic woman with modesty insecurities.”

Techno looked ahead without faltering considering their playful jab, and they tried for an answer again. 

“Plus you haven’t been around for weeks.”

Steps slowing, Techno was genuinely surprised to hear their observation and glanced at them with an inclined head tilt. 

“You looked for me?”

Caught in their own web, y/n timorously avoided his stare. 

“The town’s always busy with newcomers, travelers, royalty,” they emphasized with a pointed look at him, “trust me when I say you stick out like a sore thumb. Your turn.”

Nodding from their reasonable, but untrue explanation, it was Techno’s turn to glance away while formulating a response. 

“I’ve been… uh, explorin’, you could say.”

In a paralleling manner, they copied his previous nod despite their skepticism. 

“I see. And now?”

“Now I’m visitin’ an old friend, old relations.”

“Ahhh. Girlfriend?”

Technoblade stopped walking altogether and incredulity gawked at them. 

“What?”

“Boyfriend?” y/n continued, now turning with their back facing him. Techno rushed to meet there stride and spoke down to them.

“No, stop it.”

Hand to their chin, they pretended to reach another revelation with wide eyes. 

“Ohh I get it now, distant family.”

“You can be quiet now,” Techno grumbled. Smacking his forehead, he rubbed it exasperated while their joy became evident in their cheerful tone.  

“Are they misunderstanding?” the teen asked, their cheeks flushed excitedly from his apparent discomfort. “Is it the person-friend they don’t approve of?”

“I’m leaving now.” Techno hurried his pace as to leave the forest ground.

“They rude? Unbearable? Selfish? Annoying?”

“You know what,” he stated, spinning to them to clarify since they had stopped walking entirely behind him, “yes.”

“Ooo which one?”

“Annoyin’, and you remind me so much of them.”

The trees were now clear as the plains had become more visible during their trek. Strapping the long, recurve barbow over his head and around his chest, Techno thought the exchange done and allowed the sun to bask over him. 

Before he could make his way to his camp, their voice yelled out to him. 

“Aww that’s sweet!”

Perplexed to how anything of what he said could be seen as ‘sweet’, his curiosity got the better of him and he turned again. 

“You consider me like family? I’m touched!”

Eyes narrowed, Techno bowed his head it defeat once again. He could never win with them, could he?

“‘kay, I’m done with this. Goodbye.”

Y/n waved avidly with a wide grin in spite of him not looking. 

“See you around, Sir Blade!”

“You should consider yourself lucky.”

The stillness was deafening. Regardless of the wind that howled outside and forced the shudders to rattle upon constant impact, or the fire the lit the room bright in heat and warm tone color, the quiet was tense when y/n awoke in Techno’s house. 

“I saw the smoke burn miles out. Had the wind changed its course, I would have never noticed.”

As his back was turned to them, Techno pulled the cork from his most recent regeneration brew and poured it briskly into a small mug, its small rippling sound overtaking the room. With a plate of bread he prepared beforehand, he finally addressed them with the sustenance in hand. 

Y/n was completely engulfed in the large bedding they rested in, Techno’s bedding. Their arms were wrapped tightly with gauze that covered their forearms all the way to their chest. Eyes sunken and dark, they squinted heavily from recently awakening with ashen hair that matted to their face. 

“Is everyone alright?” they asked, voice faint yet rough from the intense smoke inhalation and damage they sustained in the event. Coughing from speaking for the first time, Techno was quick to hand them the potion. 

They downed the drink voraciously, and he decided to speak while they ate. 

“Everyone that managed to escape, probably. But those that did fled long before I arrived.”

Glancing at down at them, Techno could only sigh at the sight. They were so small under his gaze, and he shifted his attention to the nearest wall with crossed arms. 

“It’s one thing to help others, it’s another when takin’ on a raid by yourself.”

His pointed comment caused them to snap and try to defend themself, however, they moved to suddenly and winced from the slight movement. Despite his frown, Techno’s hands were raised gently with concerned eyes from their evident pain. 

Breathing in and out harshly, they were still hunched over when they glared up at him in anguish. 

“You didn’t hear them scream, you didn’t hear them yell for mercy. You weren’t there, but I was. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.” Their voice cracked near the end, and with vast tears that escaped, a broken sob filled the space as they hid their face ashamed. 

Techno was at a loss when comforting others, but he wasn’t a jerk to ignore someone after surviving a tragic incident, one they tried to fight yet lost to. 

Slowly, he moved to sit on the bed side. He clenched his fist shut in hesitance, but steadily, he hovered his hand over them before stroking their back reassuringly. 

“Listen, kid,” pausing, Techno caught himself and cleared his throat, “Y/n, I know you barely know anything about me but trust me. I understand how it feels, how it must’ve felt then to be overwhelmed by sudden cries that surround you to the point that you make rash decisions. Trust me when I say I get it.”

Their cries died down from his words, and he spoke earnestly as they listened more closely in smothered hiccups. 

“I respect what you tried to do in the end, but you have to be self aware that you’re still just a kid.”

His blunt statement made them freeze, and when the fully processed what he said, they dropped their hands to scowl at him incredulously. Their red eyes are hard and made him laugh from his lack of explanation to his true meaning. 

“Hey, I never said it was the age that was at fault.”

Pulling his arms away, he grasped his hands together and rested his elbows to his knees, though his focus was still on them. 

“You’re young, and young means inexperienced. Give yourself some leeway and accept your limits that come with time.”

They looked down from his attentive eyes, but still nodded when understanding his perspective. 

Rubbing the bottom of his chin with the back of his hand, Techno attempted to further the conversation amiably. He was out of his depth socially, but he was trying for their sake. 

“Besides all that, I have to say you can definitely fight.” Their eyes shot up to meet his, the acclaim unexpected. Their face was too emotionally soft for Techno to look at, so he turned away before speaking with a joking smirk. 

“Though I’m not too sure about your close combat.”

Gawking at the audacity, y/n lightly smacked his arm and scoffed. A smile crept on their face as they shook their head from the backhanded compliment. 

“You try training with a tree, they don’t always fight back.”

His snicker grew from their weak justification, and eventually, they joined his laughing fit. Helpless giggles replaced the once solemn air. While it soon died down, the elation of each other’s company still remained. 

Techno rose from the soft mattress and crossed his arms loosely in thought. With a single nod, his monotoned voice encouraged them considerately.

“Get some rest, we can talk later.”

Like his past departures, his steps were fast and large as he moved to exit. His hand pulled the door with him, but a shy call of his name stopped him from closing it fully shut.

“Technoblade.”

His head peaked from behind the wooden door and was met with soft eyes that expressed more gratitude than words could convey. 

“Thank you.”

“No thanks needed, kid.”

Bonus:

Shutting the door gently, Techno walked into the kitchen space with a sigh. He rubbed his eyes from the hours he spent watching them unconscious after tending to them, and heeded the voices’ command for food (real food for once, not blood).

He leisurely approached the pantry, and without turning to address him, spoke lowly.

“Not a single, word.”

Phil lowered the book in his hand and raised a hand defensively with a shrug. He was sat in the living room, obscured in the large armchair from the kitchen; Techno was aware of his presence, however, and knew of his routine.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Phil called out, though Techno was quick to respond. 

“Phil, you are the least stealthy person on this planet.”

“No, no, I’m serious. I have nothing to say.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Techno murmured a sure and moved to the front door, an apple in one hand and bag full of produce tucked in his other arm. He stated that he was going check on the animals and slammed the door close harshly.

Moments passed as Phil sat in silence, save for the crackling fire that roared beside him, before speaking as if he could still hear him. 

“To think, I sent you to the store and you brought back a kid.”

[daydreaming-in-letters]

Assumptions

10/01/2021

Pairing: Manuel Neuer x fem!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 6,018

Warnings: rpf, mentions of age gap (not between reader and Manu and nothing illegal) and strong opinions on that, banter, jealousy, infuriation, fluff and cuteness

Summary: The reader finally catches her long time crush Manuel Neuer alone on her uncle's birthday. Things are quickly starting to get heated—sadly it's not the kind of heated she would have liked it to be.

A/N: Most of you probably don't know Manuel Neuer. He is the goalkeeper and captain of Bayern Munich as well as the German National Football Team and every once in a while I find my thoughts drifting towards that adorable and amazingly talented manchild. This story has been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I wasn't sure whether I felt comfortable with publishing it in case it ever got finished. But I found that there is an intolerable lack of Manuel Neuer x reader fics on here, so here it is. I tagged everyone from my general tag list, but I understand if this is not what you signed up for. So sorry in advance and please feel free to ignore this story at your leisure.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and still the dance floor was as filled as ever, an enchanting mixture of young and old people alike. The bass rolled deep in his stomach, making him even queasier than he already was, and the lights, flickering across the mass of moving bodies in sync to the rhythm of the music, didn’t help either.

Suddenly a figure broke through the outer wall of bodies and made her way over to his table. A small smile crawled over her lips, a little shy but genuine, yet he didn’t feel like returning it. He had hoped that she would change her mind upon the disgruntled look on his face, but much to his dismay, she did nothing of the sort and sat down right next to him, just as a waitress passed the table with a tray of colourful shots. The woman next to him stopped her, before she turned to him.

“Care for a drink?”

Did he care for a drink? He yearned for one.

“No, thanks. I’m not really fond of drinking.”

“Shame,” she shrugged, her smile growing a bit wider when she took two shots from the tray anyway. For a second he thought she might actually force him to drink with her, but then she placed down the two glasses in front of herself. Raising her first glass to him, she gulped it down in one swig, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand afterwards.

“Do you care for a dance then?” She nodded over to the dance floor, her eyes and body inviting him to take the offer.

He found that he somehow couldn’t hold her gaze when he answered, “I’m afraid I’m also not very fond of dancing.”

Her forearms resting on the table, she leaned closer, obviously not taking the hint that he just wanted to be left in peace and quiet.

“Then what are you fond of?”

“I think you know pretty well what I’m fond of.” To his own surprise he sounded even harsher than he had attempted to, but the last thing he needed right now was an eager fan trying to engage him in a conversation.

“I do,” she retorted undeterred, “but that’s not what I wanted to know. See, you might not have noticed through all your sulking, but I was actually interested in you as a person, not as a footballer.”

He huffed, although he wasn’t sure she had heard him above the music.

“And you might have noticed that I am not interested in talking about private stuff to complete strangers.”

Sure, he was being massively impolite, but at least he hoped that this would do the trick now. But instead of finally leaving him alone, she shot him an amused look.

“Ooooh, grumpy, aren’t we?”

Now it was him who leaned in closer, making sure she could hear him properly. “Look, it’s nothing personal, okay? I just...it wasn’t such a great evening for me.”

Unintentionally his eyes wandered over to the dance floor for a split second, where a very young, very blonde girl was dancing happily among his teammates and their wives and girlfriends. Cursing himself, he looked over to the woman by his side carefully, hoping she hadn’t noticed. But of course she had, her eyes still fixed on the girl.

“Ah, I see.” She turned to him and the glint in her eyes made his stomach turn. “Puberty is a bitch, eh?”

“Excuse me?” he spat, equal parts bewildered and stunned.

“You heard me alright.”

Who did she think she was? Impertinent woman.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” The volume of his voice must have slipped his control a little, as he noticed a group of elderly men standing nearby turn into his direction. Still the woman’s smile never left her face, appeasing the men who turned away again.

“Really? After all I have to sit here with a pissed thirty something man who refuses to acknowledge he let his hormones get the best of him.”

“Whoa! Okay, first of all, it was you who decided to come and sit at this table and second, again, none of your goddamn business.”

Her answer was a simple grin, still not fazed by his anger in the slightest. It almost felt as if she was enjoying to get him riled up.

“You’re right.”

“And?”

“What do you mean ‘and’?”

He rolled his eyes heavily. Why couldn’t she just leave?

“You know, that phrase usually goes with an apology. Like ‘You’re right. Sorry I assumed you’re having a mid-life crisis and bang a chick that is 15 years your junior to boost your fragile ego.’”

“Do you?”

Inhaling deeply, he tried to calm himself a little. After all, he couldn’t afford to yell at her again, not that he didn’t want to, but causing even more unwanted attention was not in his plans for tonight.

“I didn't say that.”

“Well actually,” she looked at him triumphantly, “you kind of did. I never said you were having a midlife crisis or that you need her to boost your ego. Those were your words. And seeing that my assumptions caused a reaction like that, I’m afraid I can’t really say I’m sorry either.”

All right, that was it. Enough was enough.

“Look, I think I have an assumption for you too, lady. I’m starting to assume that you only came over here to rile me up further. And guess what, mission completed. So why don’t you do us both a favour and head off to pester someone else now?”

She was quiet for a moment and for the first time, the cheeky smile left her beautiful, burgundy lips. He had expected her to be a bit shaken at least, maybe even as pissed as himself, and yet the next words were spoken with such dignity that he couldn’t help but admire her a little for it.

“Oh, I would love to say you’re right again, but I’m afraid I can’t this time. And since we seem to have warmed up to each other quite a bit by now, I feel it’s okay to be completely honest with you.” She paused a second, simply for the effect, he guessed and her warm eyes never left his. “I came to sit with you because you looked miserable. Still do, by the way. And I thought you might need an actual grown up to talk to. But it seems I was wrong. You’re just a pouty manchild, like the rest of them.”

She waved her arm, pointing over at the dancing crowd of his friends and their spouses. His eyes followed her gesture and when he laid eyes on the heart of the matter, a hot flush of rage began to swirl through his veins, making his hands clench into fists. Fully set on giving her a piece of his mind, not caring who might hear him at this point, he turned to her again. But the familiar figure that had somehow entered the picture without his notice made him stop in his tracks.

“Here you are, sweetie.” The man cooed, laying his large hand on her shoulder in a protective gesture. “I almost got the feeling you were hiding from me since I made you promise to dance with me tonight.”

She twisted her slender neck to look up at his gentle face, her attention making him smile sweetly at her.

“You know I’d never do that to you, Uncle Hans, especially not on your birthday. I just thought your no. 1 goalkeeper here was in need of some mature company, but clearly he is perfectly happy with the way things are.”

Bewilderment flickered behind the coach’s gaze as he looked between his niece and one of his best players and Manuel was sure that this might not be the last time they would speak about this matter.

“So then, may I have that dance now, sweetheart?”

“With pleasure.” Manuel watched almost transfixed as she gracefully took her uncle’s hand and stood up. It was only now that he noticed how perfectly her dress showed off her voluptuous curves. He was almost certain that she would leave without another word when once again she proved him wrong. Turning on her heels, she grabbed the remaining shot and gulped it down in one large swig before she looked down at him, almost as regal as a queen.

“Have a pleasant evening, Mister Neuer. I’m sorry I can’t say I enjoyed our conversation more. Oh, and just in case you should ever feel in need to talk to a grown up, don’t call.”

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She could still feel his piercing look on her back as Hansi led her through the crowd and away from him. They had just begun to dance when the song changed and a much slower tune echoed through the large room. With a smug grin, her uncle pulled her closer, bringing his hand to the small of her back. Cheek to cheek he swayed her to the beat and she could feel that her mind was almost beginning to slow down, when he decided to pick up a conversation.

“Will you tell me what that was all about?”

She bit her lip like a little girl that was about to be scolded. “Do I have to?”

He chuckled deeply, the vibration rumbling against her chest and she could easily imagine the self-satisfied grin on his face.

“I’m certainly not going to force you. It’s just, you know, I always thought you kind of liked him.”

Instantly, she could feel her face heat up. How could he possibly know that?

“True. Liked, as in past tense. And besides, it’s not that I actually know him, personally, I mean. You could perhaps say I admire his talent, at most. And he also may be kind of easy on the eyes.”

She had become more and more quiet while she spoke, merely mumbling the last sentence. But he had heard her nonetheless, her silliness making his lips twitch in amusement.

“Hm. I clearly remember your aunt begging me to invite him over for a barbecue party last summer, telling me that you wouldn’t shut up about his quiet reserve, his amazing performance on the field and his stunning smile. Sadly he didn’t have time.”

She gulped audibly, tensing up a little in his arms, which made him enjoy their little talk even more. “So, what changed your mind?”

“He did,” she said a little too quickly, before she sighed so heavily that her uncle almost regretted bringing this topic up after all. “It’s just, I don’t understand his choice in women. I mean, he could choose literally anyone, so why her? I mean, she clearly doesn’t make him happy.”

“And how do you know that? You have spoken to him for what? Like five minutes?” He turned them around, making her face the gloomy goalie once more, before he went on. “I might be wrong, sweetheart, but I think you’re just jealous.”

Over his shoulder her gaze met Manuel’s for a split second before his eyes shot to his right, where the blonde teenager stepped into the picture, blocking him from view. She sat down on his lap, her arms dragging around his neck possessively, as her lips met his in a feverish kiss. Averting her gaze immediately, her eyes darkened and her heart clenched heavily in her chest.

“If by jealous you mean disenchanted, you’re right.”

Her bitter words made him loosen his grip on her so that he could see her face, and the hurt in her eyes pained him more than he cared for.

“I know you probably won’t believe me, but he really is a good person.”

She scoffed while her incredulous eyes landed on her uncle’s soft, blue orbs. “Well, he certainly hid that pretty well.”

He gave her a tight lipped smile. “I think he’s just lost his way a little at the moment.”

“So you think I’m right then?”

The excited sparkle in her eyes made him regret his honest words a little.

“I didn’t say that.” He protested strongly. In the end it was not for him to judge his players’ private lives. “After all he is a grown man and he can decide for himself.” He could see her face fall again and so he was quick to add, “Nevertheless, I don’t think you’re completely wrong either.”

He was very pleased to see that his words had caused a small smile to crawl back to her pretty lips. He almost felt like a proud father and when she finally leaned back in a bit closer, her forgiving gesture almost made him a bit bold.

“So, uhm, one more question, sweetheart. In the unlikely event that he should after all need a grown woman to talk to, can I give him your number?”

“Certainly not,” she insisted with a steady voice, but when she looked at him, the adorable grin on her face left no doubt that this was the biggest lie she had ever told.

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Manuel was furious as he watched her leave towards the dance floor with the coach. How could she dare call him out like that and then leave without giving him the chance to set her straight? His eyes fixed on her, he watched as Flick pulled her closer, his eyes following her uncle’s hand to the small of her back. Being the gentleman he was, his hand had found the only spot on her back that was actually covered by the dark red fabric of her dress. And for a second he imagined what it might actually feel like to let his hand wander upwards until it covered her bare skin. Or maybe he could let it slip down a few inches, until his fingers would grasp the soft flesh of her behind. He had just been able to fully picture the exact feeling of her body pressed up to his when he could feel the man who actually held her in his arms catch his indecent look on his niece’s back. Immediately he sat up straight, averting his gaze, completely missing the amused smile on the other man’s face, and when he turned back to face him, he almost lost it when he found her sparkling eyes instead.

He was still trying to figure out what had happened, when he heard a familiar voice calling him.

“Hey, babe.” The high pitched noise made him flinch and instinctively his eyes shot to his right, just in time to pull his arms away before she slumped down onto his lap clumsily. She laid it on thickly as her arms wrapped around his neck.

“I missed you on the dance floor, honey bun. Why don’t you come dance with me?”

And before he even had the chance to answer, her lips crashed down on his mouth almost painfully, her tongue forcing his lips to open. The stench of alcohol filled his mouth and he pushed her drunken form off of him determinedly. Before she even had the chance to protest, he lifted her up and placed her in his chair.

“I don’t think dancing is a good idea in your condition.” She glared at him, but then she seemed to have forgotten what for and her lips turned up into a sheepish smile.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Look, why don’t you just stay here and I get you a nice, big glass of water to sober you up a little?”

She began to nod, but then her eyes lost focus und she stared past him at god knows what.

“All right, I’ll be back in a sec. Don’t go anywhere.”

Quickly he made his way over to the counter and ordered a whole bottle of water, when he felt the slap of a hand on his left shoulder.

“Wow, you look even more frustrated than after our knock out at the World Cup in 2018. What happened?”

“Don’t ask.” He sighed as he turned around to face his friend. Manuel hoped that he would accept his wish, but when he saw the apologetic look on Thomas’ face, he instantly knew that he wouldn’t drop the topic.

“Too late. I just did.”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the next words were spoken more to himself than to his teammate.

“Great, just what I need. Another pain in my ass.”

“Another? Who was the first then?” Obviously Thomas had taken no offence and sounded a bit too cheerful for Manuel’s liking.

“She.”

He looked over at the dance floor, where the impertinent woman was just sending her uncle the most beautiful, cheeky grin he had ever seen.

“Who? Y/N?” his friend asked incredulously.

Y/N. So that was her name.

“You know that annoying woman?”

“I do, although I can’t really say she’s annoying. Met her at the coach’s home once. She seemed rather sweet and intelligent to me.”

“She certainly hid that pretty well,” Manuel growled under his breath, earning him a surprised frown from Thomas.

“Are you gonna stand here and stare daggers at her or are you gonna tell me what she did to make you throw a fit?”

“She approached me out of nowhere to tell me that I’m dating a teenager to compensate my inability to commit to a partner on eye level.”

Thomas let his words sink in for a while.

“That doesn’t really sound like her. I mean, what reason would she have to come at you like that? She doesn’t even know you.”

Manuel sighed, thinking about the way she had somehow coaxed the statements from him instead of making them herself.

“Well, she might have phrased it differently,” he admitted meekly. That seemed to spark Thomas’ interest even further and he could feel his expectant look on him, pressing him to finally tell the whole truth.

“Actually she didn’t say it like that. She only made an allusion and made me somehow say those things myself.”

“Mhm. And exactly what allusion did she make?”

Manuel rolled his eyes again, his ego still fighting to repeat her words out loud.

”She said puberty was a bitch, clearly hinting at the fact that she thought my girlfriend was too young for me.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence when Thomas’ roaring laughter filled the air.

“Now that does sound more like her.”

He needed a bit to contain himself when he suddenly looked up at Manuel with an unusually serious expression on his face.

“And I have to admit, Manu, she kind of has a fair point there.”

“What?”

Manuel could not believe his ears.

“Come on, man. It’s what everyone thinks. She just said it out loud.”

“Fuck you.”

But instead of rising to his expletive, Thomas just looked at him sympathetically. Pushing himself off of the counter, he pat his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him a little, ready to leave him to his self-denial.

But then he stopped. “You know, I personally didn’t have a problem with it. You’re an adult, you can make your own choices. As long as you’re happy, right? But the truth is, Manu, I don’t think you are. Not anymore.”

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“See, I told you he wouldn’t be here. No need for all the panic beforehand.”

She narrowed her eyes at her cousin, shooting her a dirty look.

“Yeah, and I hope it’ll stay that way. Oh, and for the record: I wasn’t panicking at all, it was just you and your sister’s sudden eagerness to lure me here that got me suspicious and nervous in the first place.”

“We didn’t lure you here,” her other cousin piped up a little offendedly. “We simply wanted to spend some time with you. Come on, it’s been what, like 4 months now? Since you moved to Munich three years ago, we hardly get to see you anymore.”

“You and our father,” her sister added quickly. “So it seemed the best option to kill two birds with one stone and bring you along. After all it’s called a family day, right?”

Y/N sighed, not fully convinced, but finally ready to let the topic go.

“Right. Let’s just hope for your sakes that there will be no surprises today that might prove your guilt after all.”

“How are my girls doing?” she heard a familiar voice from behind her back, turning towards her favourite uncle with a beaming smile. What she didn’t see, however, was the brief look that was exchanged between her cousins as soon as she had turned her back, proving exactly what she had suspected all along.

“We’re good, dad. Actually, we’re more than good, we’re excellent,” the older cousin chirped.

“Great.” He paused a moment, but it was clear that he had more to say. Rocking back and forth on his feet, he looked from one woman to the other. “So,” he began carefully, before a huge Cheshire grin spread across his face. “I hope you all reserved a dance for me tonight.”

“Oh, no, daddy, not again.”

“Please, don’t make us do this.”

“There will be dancing here? If you had told me that beforehand, I certainly wouldn’t have come.”

“Of course there will be dancing. I thought that was obvious.” He had to try very hard to look a little slighted, while he actually drew a horrendous amount of amusement from their antics. “Remember, girls, we have a tradition to uphold. Whenever there is some dancing at a party, you have to reserve at least one dance for me. That’s the rule.”

And with that he turned and left them on their own again.

“Ugh, why does he always have to do that to us?” her younger cousin whined.

“Oh stop it, silly. You’re the one who likes it the most and everyone knows.”

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She had been the first to pay tribute to the family tradition and after a very exhausting Discofox dance session, luckily one of her cousins had taken over from her. Kicking off her heels, she welcomed the feel of the cool grass underneath the soles of her feet. Walking over to one of the empty tables, she slumped down heavily into one of the comfortable looking chairs. With a contented smile she let herself fall back against the backrest, closing her eyes and breathing in the mild air of the warm summer night.

“Care for a drink?”

His voice made her jump, sitting up straight immediately, eyes shooting wide open. And there he was, two shot glasses in his large hands and grinning down at her, obviously very satisfied with the slight scare he had just given her. He looked amazing, the smug bastard, in his casual jeans and white shirt, two buttons undone, topped with a sporty black jacket. She highly doubted that she had ever seen a finer man in her entire life. Luckily that didn’t make her lose her sharp tongue.

“And here I am thinking that you weren’t fond of alcohol. What happened?”

He smiled sheepishly, only one corner of his mouth tugged up, when he handed her her drink. He took his time, grabbing a chair and positioning it opposite hers, then sitting down carefully, not wanting to spill the shot all over his chest. She had already come to think that he was trying to avoid her question after all, when he locked eyes with her and finally began to speak.

“Hm. It’s been a while since I last saw you. A lot of things happened, you know. Maybe it was finally time for me to grow up.”

“Hear, hear.” With a mischievous smile she raised her glass. “To your coming of age, then.”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “If you insist.”

His magnificent blue eyes never left hers while they chinked glasses, and a second later she could feel the more than welcome liquid moisturising her suddenly very dry mouth.

With a thud, their glasses landed on the table, both of them chuckling like giddy children when their eyes found each other again and then, for a moment, there was nothing but silence. The world seemed to have zoned out, leaving behind nothing but his aquamarine orbs and the wild smile on his face.

Just gradually, the world seemed to set back in again. There was the monotonous clitter of the crickets, overlaid by the muffled sound of the music that was carried over by a soft breeze, and loudest of all she could hear the beating of her own heart against her chest.

“What else has changed now that you are a proper adult?” she heard herself ask, not having the faintest idea where those words came from and how the hell she managed to deliver them so smoothly when her whole body seemed to have gotten out of control.

He took a quick look over his shoulder, his thumb pointing in the same direction.

“If you mean the dancing, I’m still not very fond of that.” Her face must have fallen a little because he was quick to add, “Except...”

“Except what?”

His eyes landed back on hers and she almost choked on her hitching breath.

“Except I think I could make an exception for the right partner.”

From the corner of her eye she registered a movement between their bodies, but she was hesitant to let her view stray from his captivating appearance. At last it was something in his eyes that looked at her expectantly which finally made her snap out of her trance.

Looking down at his hand sheepishly, it took her a while to fathom that he was actually asking her to dance with him.

Slowly her eyes wandered up to his again, asking a silent question, which he answered with an almost imperceptible rise of his eyebrows. And before she knew what she was doing, she laid her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

He had just turned towards the source of the music, when she suddenly held him back.

“No, wait.”

With a puzzled look he did what she asked of him and let her twist him back around.

“Why don’t we just stay here? The music is loud enough anyway.”

A gentle smile curved his lips. “Sure, if that’s what you want.”

She nodded softly, her teeth biting down on her lip in excitement.

And before she knew what was happening, she found herself secured against his chest by his firm grip. It felt like being pressed up to a hot furnace which she would usually have appreciated any other time, but on a sweltry night like this and in a place she had wanted to be in for so long, it was pure torture. And as if this wasn’t bad enough already, his strong fingers pressed down on her lower back, threatening to scorch her even through the fabric of her blouse as he pulled her an impossible inch further into him. He was so close now that she could sense the heat radiating off his cheek as well, bringing along a whiff of his enticing scent and she couldn’t help but close her eyes as she inhaled deeply and her head began to spin. It was odd, but her mind was completely blank by now, blank except for one thought and her lips spread into a blissful smile as she repeated it in her head again and again, relishing in the feeling that if either of them moved just the tiniest bit, their cheeks would inevitably touch.

Slowly they moved and despite the unhurried shift of their bodies her heart was beating so violently that she thought it pondered jumping out of her chest to meet his. There was no chance he wouldn’t be able to tell from the way he held her, and when he finally drew away a tad to look at her, she fully expected him to call her out for it.

But he didn’t. Instead his sinfully soft lips curled into a reassuring smile before he spoke.

“You were right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

A cute chuckle escaped his mouth, leaving the corners of his eyes crinkled in the most beautiful display of amusement.

“About what you said at your uncle’s birthday party.”

“Oh.” She had said a lot that evening, words that she had come to regret later and remembering them now set her cheeks on fire. “About what exactly?”

“About everything,” he admitted without hesitation, yet he couldn’t hide the spark of misery that flitted across his sea blue orbs. “Didn’t take me very long after that night to finally see things clearly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was true. Although she knew that she probably sounded like a madwoman after everything she had confronted him with back then, at least the frown on his forehead seemed to confirm that. “I truly am. I really would have liked to see you happy.” Even if it was with that girl.

She was glad she had managed to keep that last bit to herself. She had no idea why she had said that she was sorry in the first place, but judging by the wild smile on his face it must have been the right words after all.

“Well, I certainly am happier now than I was that night.” He shrugged. “So, thank you, I guess.”

She huffed. “For what? Making absolutely inappropriate remarks on your relationship? I shouldn’t have done that. I know that now. So it should be me who is sorry here, don’t you think?”

She could feel his fingertips press into the soft flesh of her back.

“Don’t be. I guess you were exactly what I needed.” It took him a second before he realised what he had just said. “I mean it. It was exactly what I needed.”

His eyes snapped to the left and she was thankful that he couldn’t see the grin that decorated her lips as she watched the treacherous colour creep into his cheeks, spreading all the way to his ears. For a while he didn’t say another word, probably still trying feverishly to figure out a way to take back his slip of the tongue. And when he finally spoke, she wished he hadn’t.

“There is one thing though that I have gone over and over in my mind. But no matter how long I think about it, it just won’t make sense.”

She already knew that she wouldn’t like where this conversation was heading now, but she found herself asking nonetheless.

“And what is that?”

His head turned without a warning as his eyes searched her gaze and for the blink of an eye his lips came so close that she couldn’t say if they had actually brushed along hers or if her needy heart had just imagined their brief touch. He didn’t answer her question right away, his breath blending with her own in the narrow space between their faces and suddenly she wasn’t so sure anymore if she had really only dreamed up their fleeting foretaste of a kiss.

“Why did you do it?” Panic rose in her chest. She hadn’t done anything. After all it had been him who had turned his head. But as he went on, she realised that he wasn’t referring to that at all and the suffocating distress eased away bit by bit. “I mean, we didn’t even know each other when you decided to come at me like that.”

Now it was her who had to avert her gaze.

“I think I don’t really want to answer that question.”

“Why not?” His voice was so soft and gentle, making it even harder to answer him.

“Because the truth might be kind of ugly.”

“But the outcome wasn’t, so I think I’ll take that risk.”

Her feet stopped their mechanical movements as a violent shiver ran down her spine. So this would be it then. It would be over before it had really begun. Pity. But at least she would have the memory of these few minutes, of his genuine smile and the way he had held her tight against his chest. With a deep sigh she bid their daydream of a dance goodbye.

“I could tell you now that it was for some noble reason, but at the bottom of it all I think it was nothing more than jealousy that drew me to your table that night. I had been unable to ignore you all evening — ignore her. The way she behaved like a spoiled brat, drinking and losing control, not caring in the least that she not only made a fool out of herself but of you as well. God, I hated her in that moment, for having everything I ever wanted and riding roughshod over it. And when I saw you sitting there, looking so utterly crestfallen, somehow I couldn’t help it.”

An undefinable silence settled between them and the only sound that remained was the beat of the music wafting over from the party that went on behind his back. The faint whisper of the melody seemed to push itself up between them and tear them further apart, exactly as she had expected. And just like the bass, her heartbeat slowed until it died away completely.

It was over and everything she wanted to do was let go of his hand so she could do him the favour of leaving, but to her astonishment he refused to set her free. And rather then releasing her from his grip, he squeezed her hand, briefly and just once, but it was enough for her to find the courage and face him. But instead of finding a frown or a scornful pair of eyes, his blinding smile made her forget to breathe for a moment.

“I had hoped you might say that.” And with that he pulled her into his arms again and continued swaying her to the music as if she had not just revealed her repulsive self to him. Her brain still a step behind, she couldn’t do anything but stare up at him stupidly.

“What? Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” And when she shook her head like a petrified imbecile, an amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. “Because even though your behaviour was extremely infuriating, I have to admit that I like you. And asking you out on a date will be so much easier now that I know you like me too.”

With a violent jolt, the useless muscle inside her chest started to beat again, its heavy pounding filling her ears with white noise as the world around her started to spin. Unable to stop the motion, she felt herself leaning in, her nails digging into the undoubtedly expensive fabric of his jacket as she desperately tried to gain control over her unruly body.

“So, will you go out with me?”

It seemed like an eternity until she finally mustered the strength for a mechanical nod. Neither had she noticed in her struggle that he had stopped dancing, nor that the priceless look on her face had made his eyes and heart go soft for her.

“Great. That’s settled then. When are you free?”

It was only when he took a step back, taking his warmth with him as his hand slipped out of hers, that she snapped out of her trance.

“Now.”

“Now? Like right now?”

More like now as in before she could screw everything up again.

“Yes, why not? I know you have a busy schedule, so finding a date when we are both free might be tough. And above that, it is a beautiful summer evening.”

Had all those words really fallen from her mouth right now? Embarrassed about her lack of composure, her hand flew up to her mouth, making him smile again.

“I guess you have a fair point there.” And just like that, his hand was there again, fingers entwining slowly with hers like they had never been meant for anyone else. “All right then, let’s get out of here.”

***

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[unprofessional-bard]

Chapter 15 - The Result

Unprofessional Bard's Masterlist

Losing My Religion Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter • Next Chapter (TBA)

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader/OC

Warnings: smut: oral sex (m! receiving), unprotected sex, joel breeding kink go brrr; talks of depression, anxiety and PTSD, detailed descriptions of bloodshed/death.

Summary: The confrontation the reader had been waiting for finally happens.

Word Count: 5.771

Author's Note: I apologise for the repost y'all!! The chapter didn't appear on the tags and I didn't notice it soon enough!! If this doesn't appear as well...

Enjoy!

The last heatwaves of summer started coming in with full force as September approached– a final storm before the calm. It wasn't completely intolerable, but it still messed with a lot of people: even you and Joel had to stay away from one another during the nights due to the heat making everything more sticky and irritable. It was annoying as hell, given that you had Joel all to yourself for a whole week now.

That certainly didn't stop you two from having sex before his departure, of course.

It took you some time to anchor yourself back to reality after what happened with Ward – the first three days were the worst with the episodes and attacks, but you don't think you could've made it this far in such a short time without Ellie and Joel. This was practically nothing compared to when you had first arrived in Jackson... if you had them both with you when–

Doesn't matter now. It took you months and it wouldn't have mattered if it had taken more– you made it. At the end, you got through it.

You and Joel talked about things, too. A lot of it mostly surrounding Kiki and Ward, of course. Things were cleared out, feelings were gotten off of chests and apologies were made: One day, after going out to get groceries while you chopped some vegetables for dinner, he put the sacks on the counter island and approached you, wrapping his hands around your waist.

"Smells delicious," He murmured into your ear and placed a kiss on your cheek, then put his chin on your shoulder, ever so slowly –with minimal movement– swaying you to the smooth jazz playing in the living room.

"I didn't cook anything yet?" You raised a brow and smiled at the way his beard scratched at the side of your face.

"Didn't mean the food," He whispered and kissed the back of your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as you chuckled. He then moved down the line behind your artery, peppering kisses there, each and every single touch of his lips sending a rather pleasant feeling between your legs.

You slowly leaned your head back against his shoulder as he took your hands in his, making you put the knife down and let him sway you to the wordless tune playing in the background.

He eventually stopped when he reached your collarbones and turned you around to face him: "Mrs. Miller..." Your smile grew at the name: "How're you on this fine evenin'?"

"Just fine, Mr. Miller." You grinned and mimicked his accent. He placed one hand on your waist while the other grabbed your hand. He smelled so wonderful and looked so good–

"Would ya fancy a dance, m'lady?" His teeth showed when his smirk grew wider, your faces were almost touching.

"Ain't you a dandy and a charmer?" You chuckled, your lips brushing against his and chests pressed against each other.

This? This was everything. All of your problems and worries gone even just for a moment or two– you'd do anything for him.

The small dance you two had going on lasted another minute before the track ended softly. Joel finally stopped teasing your lips and pressed a gentle kiss against them, which you returned with more hunger and passion.

"A little dance got you all excited?" Joel chuckled when he pulled back for air, noticing your hands had already unbuttonned his shirt halfway.

"You got me all excited," You beamed at him and dipped your hands under his shirt before reaching the last two buttons, feeling his warm skin under your fingertips and sighing into his chest. "We haven't done it in awhile..."

"Tsk," Joel shook his head with a soft grin, licking his lips as his pupils dilated the longer he thought of the last time you had sex, which was when he came in you for the first time. It had him weak in the knees, and would definitely do it again if you let him. He then softly leaned in and placed a wet kiss on your neck, making you sigh and close your eyes.

His hands placed themselves on your waist as he pushed you against the counter island, lightly marking your neck as he went: "Should'a done this a few days back, would'a marked you red and blue since y'ain't goin' out..."

You quietly moaned as he trapped you in place, lightly pushing your shirt up and massaging your sides as he did. You took the opportunity to place a kiss on his neck in return, hearing him growl softly, so you did it again, and again, and again...

Sex with Joel never ceased to satisfy you: He always managed to get you all giddy and excited like a child given a reward. His movements gained some speed as soon as his hands cupped your breasts, immediately taking your shirt off and kissing your lips hungrily. His arms closed around your waist and back as he moved down to your jaw and neck, biting and licking his way to your shoulders.

"Joel... the food..." Your chuckles mixed with moans the more his beard and lips caressed your skin. At your words, he picked you up and placed you on the counter, hooking his fingers through the waistbands of your shorts.

"I'll be full in a few," He smirked and started kissing down your breasts as he slowly dragged your shorts down your legs. His tongue worked wonders on your nipples while your fingers made their way through his hair, giving him soft hisses and quiet moans whenever he lightly bit on the skin.

Moments later, he was on his knees, caressing and kissing your inner thighs, not pulling back on leaving hickeys where he knew your shorts would cover to spare you the embarrassment; although that didn't keep him from lightly biting on the skin that showed too.

He then spread your legs and started giving tiny licks along your slit, making you slowly lean back onto your elbows, only to suddenly land on your back when he pulled you forwards by your thighs. You gave a brief chuckle as he feasted on your juices like a man who hadn't eaten in weeks.

As soon as you threw your head back, you opened your eyes to an intensifying sizzling sound, gasping when you saw the pan on the stove: "Joel! The food!"

"Oh shit–" He quickly left your wetness and practically threw himself over to the stove. After that was out of the way, you both stood still and giggled briefly. "Why'd you cook this much food?"

"Ellie asked if she could eat with us," You spoke as you got off the counter. "Said she didn't have time to cook for herself, I said sure. She then asked if Jesse could come too– Wait, what time is it?"

"Five twenty."

"Oh, good."

"Why?"

"Because," You gave him a mischievous smirk as you walked over to him and hooked your fingers behind his belt without breaking eye contact, pulling him back to the counter island. "That means we have at least another half hour before they arrive, but we still gotta be qui– Hmph!"

His lips were instantly on yours as he quickly pressed your back against the counter, but you stopped him before he could go down on you: "Nu-uh. I may be the cook–" You grabbed him through his trousers, making his hips jerk forward: "But I gotta eat too."

He made to protest –he's been going on about how you should take it easy and how your pleasure was more important than his (it was funny how he thought his pleasure didn't add to yours)– but you were already sinking to your knees, trapping yourself between his legs and the counter.

"There we go," You cooed as you got rid of his belt. Joel sighed deeply and closed his eyes, putting his hands on the surface above your head and leaning into your touch instinctively.

You were quick to pull him out of his underwear, pumping his cock a few times before giving it a few licks around the tip, to which he hissed quietly.

It was when you decided to take all his length to the back of your throat at one go that his hands shot to your hair: "Jesus– christ, doll!"

You offered a quiet giggle while you played with him in your hand, then slowly and rhythmically you took him in your mouth, but not even a few minutes later, Joel pulled your hair into a ponytail with both hands: "Can't believe I'm sayin' this but, food can wait."

You gave him a surprised look before he gently grabbed your jaw and lightly pressed your cheeks to make you open your mouth wider, then pushed his cock down your throat. Gagging and moaning you grabbed his hips, to which he responded: "A-ah, no hands Dolly."

You were perhaps too quick to drop your hands to your sides, then lace your fingers behind your back to keep yourself from grabbing him. You let him use your mouth for a few minutes: the sounds of wetness and gagging, plus occasional grunts and moans from him was heavenly for the both of you.

"Fuck– Dolly, up," He suddenly pulled out and leaned down to pull you up. He turned you around and gently, but with rushed movements, bent you over the counter a little. He entered you with one precise thrust, making you bend even more. You moaned simultaneously when he did, staying still a little for you to adjust.

He then leaned down over you, framing your body with his. Your bare back pressed against his naked chest, his hands wrapping themselves around your arms –then wrists– as his chin found its place like a puzzle piece in the crook of your neck. You loved it when he covered you like this, loved when he was so desperate, loved when he couldn't help himself and couldn't get enough of your–

"You get me so– shit," He growled as he pulled back and thrusted in again. He began with a steady rhythm, making you moan softly. You felt your eyes roll back when he nibbled at your ear and kissed your neck.

"Fuck– Joel, fuck–" You moaned, the pitch of your voice rising like it did when you began closing in on your orgasm. You both were aware how you were short on time and had to make this into a quickie, a promise of something more when night time fell and you both were alone in your room, hungry for one another like you were now.

"Want me to– to come in you again? Y'think I put a baby in you the last time?" He moaned at the way you squeezed around him, wriggled under his body and cried out at his words. "Don't matter, we can do it again to make sure– just say the words."

"Joel– ah, ah," You gasped when one of his hands left your wrist to draw circles around your clit, making you thrust back to his rhythm. "Fuck, come inside me, please."

"Shit, (Y/N)," He growled low, almost animalistically, into your ear. He placed kisses over your neck, then went up to your jaw and cheek, finally meeting your lips halfway. "Come on, babydoll, put one leg up for me?"

His other hand left your wrist as well when you nodded, helping one leg up to the counter. He proceeded to lean back and up, grab your hips and slam into you as fast and hard as he could, knocking the breath out of you.

"Oh my god!" You cried out, failing to keep up. The skin slapping against skin had long drowned out most of the surrounding sounds, minus your moaning and Joel's growling. "So– so close–"

"This ain't gonna work," He suddenly stopped, murmuring to himself. He put your leg back down, pulled out of you and turned you to face him. The sight of his cock –erect completely, thick and swollen– made you moan quietly. He lifted you up and sat you on the counter once more, spreading your legs. He grabbed your ass and pulled you forward, to the edge, where he thrusted back in.

You grabbed his face and kissed him hungrily, biting on his lower lip, then shoved your tongue into his mouth, moaning all the while.

"Ah," He broke off suddenly and put his forehead on your shoulder as he slammed, and slammed, and slammed...

Until he grabbed you by your thighs, his voice cracking slightly, and finally emptied his seed inside you, biting on your shoulder quite aggressively; you didn't mind, however, as it was the final stroke that threw you off the edge. You held onto his shoulders as you both trembled in the other's arms, panting as if you'd run all the way from the western gate to home.

His hips involuntary jerked forwards, his cock twitching inside you. He held you tightly in his arms as you came down your high, becoming sleepy all of a sudden. Him coming inside you had a wonderful effect on the both of you last time, it was no different this time.

"Shit," You hissed. "That was– that was–"

"Mind blowing?" He chuckled, reminding you of one of your quickies during patrol before you got married.

"That's one way to put it," You grinned back and claimed his lips in a sweet kiss. "You should come inside me more often."

You felt him tense a little: "Yeah, about that, are you su–"

Knock knock: "(Y/N)?" Ellie.

"Shit!" You jumped where you sat. Joel immediately pulled himself out of you and tucked his softening cock back in his jeans as you collected your clothing and ran to the bathroom.

After dinner, your love-making continued in your chambers. The pace slowed, the air became somewhat more sentimental, and tears were shed– both of you trembled in the other's arms, kissing and wiping away at the other's wet cheeks. You laid together: entwined, side by side, eventually parting because of the heat...

Now, you laid alone.

Alone in the house after that too-good-to-be-true week, you felt trapped and not as up to date as you liked to be about the town, so you asked Maria to sign you up for supply runs, extra shifts– whatever you were kept from.

People were more happy to see you than you thought they'd be– and more worried about you than Kiki. "You underestimate the place you hold in the community, (Y/N)." Eugene had told you with a pat to the back when you showed up to your first patrol in near two weeks. Before setting off for your assigned route however, Maria called you over with a half worried, half grave expression.

"Gonna tell you something you're not gonna like, so try to keep calm okay?" She stared right through you, making you gulp and nod: "Kiki wants to–" She sighed halfway when you scoffed quietly. "She said she wanted to talk to you, sort things out. She seemed pretty calm, maybe she made her peace with it."

"Nah," You shook your head. "She's got some folks riled up against me, they're giving me weird looks. Won't believe she's made her peace 'til that stops."

"All the more reason for you to talk. Her group's gonna wait for yours to arrive at the checkpoint. It's a good opportunity."

"... Alright." You exhaled heavily as she gave you an encouraging pat on the shoulder.

Your group was made of just you and Eugene, but Ellie and Jesse asked if they could join. Jesse was already allowed on paired patrols, but Ellie was a matter of debate as Joel still deemed her young– definitely not because he was worried sick over her.

"Ellie..." You made to protest, but your gut told you to let her tag along.

"(Y/N) c'mon, Joel ain't even here," Eugene.

"No, yeah," You blinked, snapping out of your deep thoughts. "I was gonna say yes, sorry. Come on, hurry then."

Once you reached the checkpoint, you asked Eugene to stay back: "What's up, Dolly?"

"Kiki's in there, she says she wants to talk to me," You explained, hands on your hips. "To sort things out– I don't buy it."

"Woah, hold on. She said that to you?"

"To Maria. She says she's made her peace with what I did, but I say otherwise."

"Like hell she did," Eugene agreed. "I heard she's been calling you a–"

"I–" You put your hand up: "–don't wanna hear what that idiot has to say. I see a few people staring at me whenever I go out, some straight out avoid me."

"You want me to–?"

"No– no I'll talk to her, no biggie. This has to end one way or another, but I don't trust her. Be my eyes?"

"Always, (Y/N)," He started walking towards the doors of the checkpoint, but you stopped him.

"Actually, you watch out for Ellie and Jesse. I'll handle this alone."

"(Y/N)–"

"It's okay, she's weak. Squealed to the softest touch when she first came here, remember? She wouldn't try anything."

"But that was when she first came here. Don't underestimate her."

A warning that had fallen on your deaf ears.

As you reached the doors, you saw Ellie and Jesse standing a feet or two from the entrance awkwardly. You took a deep breath and walked through the door with heavy steps and, as soon as you saw her sitting on the couch, you stood across her: "Let's talk," You looked around the room to find it quite small for you to have privacy: "Leave us. Let's finish this."

"Wh–?"

"It's okay, Ellie– Just step outside for a moment, all of you."

Kiki's group, three other people, left the room with your company while giving you dirty looks. You locked eyes with Eugene, seeing him signal you watch, then as he turned around he also signaled you with hand signals. You really were grateful for him.

"Alright," You straightened up: "Let's get to it. I'm done holding back on you, so don't you dare play coy with me and say what you wanna say and get this over with."

"Very well then." She got up and started walking towards you, but you stopped her.

"I can hear you just fine from where you are." You told her not to approach, eyes instinctively scanning your surroundings. She was around 20 feet away from you, the path between you and her were clear of any obstacles –furniture etc– minus the small set of stairs that led up to where you were standing. There was a table behind you that you spied when you first entered the room, otherwise there was nothing near the neither of you.

"Fine. I was here to talk about Ward."

"I guessed that much."

"You do realise what you've done to me, right? You've ruined my life." Her face didn't reflect the words she spoke, not one bit.

"Oh for god's– I know damn well what I did."

"Did you regret it?"

You clenched, then unclenched your jaw: "Why do you wanna know?"

"I wanted to know if I'm talking to a normal person, or a cold blooded murderer."

Your hands were quick to ball up into fists, but you had to keep your cool. Her face and her stance made your shoulders tense even more– despite how she had behaved when you shot Ward, she was quite calm. Let's not jump to conclusions, you told yourself.

You remained quiet and huffed after a moment: "Let me ask you something."

"Ask away." She was ever so slowly inching closer, but you let her.

"Do you regret it? Me, shooting a man who beats you to a pulp, a man who won't–"

"I loved him, of course I do," She scoffed, but there was no love in her voice, just irritation.

"Or was this your plan all along?" You smirked sardonically, trying to keep your anger away from her prying eyes– allowing her to slip up: "You hated him so much, then you saw Joel and me, wanted my place; that it?"

"Clever, very clever," She nodded. "And what better person to kill Ward than you? How is it going between you and Joel, anyway?" She was suddenly too close: "Does he look at you with disgust every time you go to bed, wishing that it was me instead, the poor woman made into a widow by his own wife?"

Your face scrunched up with disgust and fury: "You fucking–"

"I'm right, aren't I?" Her head was tilted forward, giving you one of the most chilling, emotionless smiles you had ever seen.

"No... you're a fucking psychopath, that's what you are," You frowned.

"Ah, you sounded like Ward. Have you also read those psychology books Doctor Katherine had given him?"

Your mind blanked for a moment, but you quickly replied to cover it up: "I was trained to deal with the likes of you."

It was partly true, especially after everything went to shit with the apocalypse and whatnot. You were trained, yes, but you had educated yourself about certain disorders which could help you train and read body language better– you were no expert of course, and you weren't police, or a detective; you didn't deal with people like her up close.

"Likes of me?" She rolled her eyes: "Ugh, you and your husband... In any case, I feel like I can be honest with you now, you're smarter than I imagined."

Eugene was right, you thought: "Decided to be honest, finally? When no one else is around? How brave of you."

"The point wasn't bravery," She looked angrier, but her voice was still quiet. "The point was exactly that– No one will hear this confession but you."

You stared into her eyes, confusion and stress taking over a bit more quicker than you liked, you didn't even realise she was inching closer towards you: "I hated Ward. I didn't love him. He was my means of escape and protection for all those years out there, but I was weak– he was abusive, yes. I was smaller than him in physique and had no training to defend myself, so naturally I was inferior. His love, I assume, was true at one point. Mine never was. And yes, I was aware of how we were the black sheep of the community once we had arrived. I figured, if Tommy, Maria– people who were looked up to, like you, liked us, we'd fit in. I did, more than Ward anyway. And yes, I did want Joel for myself, but I knew it wasn't going to be easy. You– you never really liked me, you had to move out of the picture."

Your stance became defensive as you listened: "Move out of the picture?"

"Joel will move on, eventually, and I'll walk him through his grief. For all of this to work out, you had to die. That's why I am being honest, because I am going to kill you."

You thought you were ready to evade her attack, but not mentally. Her words had made your mind go blank: despite being smaller than you in figure, she threw herself at you, grabbed your hair and slammed your head onto the table behind you. Twice.

"Ah!" You growled and grabbed her wrist in a death grip, however she didn't let out as much as a groan (unlike the first time you had tried something like this with her), even though you felt like her bones were going to crush under your palm. You cursed at yourself for letting her get as close to you as she did, giving her an advantage; your vision was getting blurry from the strikes you suffered.

You growled angrily as you turned your body towards hers again, her hands not letting go of your hair. She had gotten stronger over the time she's been trained in Jackson, but you could still have the upper hand. You landed the hardest kick you could on her stomach. Twice.

"You're not even pregnant, are you?!" You spat when you managed to push her off, but as soon as she backed off, she pulled out a knife and lunged at you again. Before the tip of the knife could pierce your throat, you crossed your arms and blocked her attack, the force bending you backwards across the table.

"I never was, yes," She struggled, voice still stable. "Though telling everyone I miscarried because of your little doing didn't really hurt nobo–"

————

"Eugene, what the hell?" Mike, someone in Kiki's group asked as soon as they stepped outside.

The older man didn't reply, sparing an angry look in the younger man's way as he began looking for a window, an opening, anywhere he could keep an eye on you from.

"Whatever, let's hope (Y/N) doesn't kill her too in there," Jennifer, Kiki's neighbour across the street, grumbled.

"What's wrong with you?" Ellie snapped and turned to her. "(Y/N) protected her!"

"I don't think cold blooded murder doesn't really count as protection," She sneered.

"The fuck did you just–" Ellie started walking towards her, but Jesse held her back.

"Ellie calm down," He spoke quietly, then turned to Jessica. "If it weren't for (Y/N), both Kiki and Paul would've died, don't you understand? Ward beat Kiki to her death, then actually tried to—"

"What do you know? You weren't there!" Jessica hissed at him.

"Neither were you," Jesse replied calmly. "(Y/N) isn't a murderer, she's a protector of this town."

"Her history with FEDRA says otherwise," Mike joined in.

"So you're telling me you haven't killed anyone in the past 20 years?" Eugene suddenly walked over to them. "You think you're so innocent in all this, huh? You're as innocent as the rest of us, Mike. We've all done– forced to do some fucked up shit before Jackson, but this what this place's all about; a second chance." He took a few silent deep breaths, before adding: "You don't know what anyone here has gone through before here, so shut your goddamn mouth."

Both Mike and Jennifer fell silent, as well as Jesse and Ellie as the older man death stared Kiki's group. He started walking back to continue looking for an opening too late however– he suddenly heard two loud thuds, followed by a shout, your shout.

"God dammit!" He ran to the door with everyone else behind him and almost kicked down the door when he reached it.

————

"Kiki, what the hell?!" Eugene came in  shouting, the door suddenly opening with a loud crash.

"What's the matter, can't handle me on your own?" She hissed at you, but her grip failed at Eugene's entrance. She had failed, and she knew this too, for her face morphed from ambition and triumph to anger and fear. That was your moment.

You directed her hands to your left with your forearms, the knife suddenly giving in and stabbing into the wooden table: "Oh I can handle you just fine!"

You twisted your arms around hers, grabbed her and push kicked her with all your might, sending her flying down the small set of stairs back near the couch she was sitting on previously. Driven by rage, you pulled the knife out of the table and jumped on her with scary speed. Before she could get up, you reached her and straddled her hips, ready to drive the knife through her throat like she had tried to do to you.

"(Y/N) stop!" Eugene yelled before you could, knife holding hand raised high, the other around her lower neck.

"Tell them, go on!" You suddenly yelled, moving your hand onto her throat. "Confess to them like you did to me."

"Get off me." She spoke calmly.

"Speak!" You yelled and shook her where you had grabbed her by the throat.

"(Y/N)..." Eugene, you realised when he entered your line of sight, was pointing a gun at Kiki's head. He kept his distance, his stance almost professional.

"Get off me," She spoke after awhile of silence. "And I'll tell them what I told you."

For whatever stupid reason, you believed her.

You believed, for a second, that she was actually going to make her confession and try to survive this, somehow. Jackson never took to execution as a form of punishment, so she had higher chances of staying alive that way.

Instead, as soon as you lowered your arm and simultaneously pulled your hand away from her throat, she grabbed you by your shirt's collar.

Everything happened so fast.

You gasped and shouted when you felt her teeth sink into the left side of your throat, dangerously close to the artery. Before she could completely bite off your skin, you embedded the knife in your hand to the side of her neck. Twice.

The tension in your body, the fear and anger you felt– everything came out on her neck. You stabbed her neck reflexively and as soon as she let your neck and shoulders go, you stopped, threw her back on the ground and fell on your back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You grimaced, panting and holding your neck as you backed away from Kiki where you sat. You stopped crawling back when your back hit one of the armchair across the sofa.

The outside voices started to drown out as you pulled your hand away from your neck to see a mix of blood smeared across your hand. Your head hurt so much; the beating of your own heart, the voice ringing in your ear– too much blood–

"(Y/N), christ!" Eugene knelt beside you immediately, followed by Ellie and Jesse. Mike, Jessica and the other person stood, dumbfounded and shocked, as Kiki gave her last breath.

"No, oh god, what did I do?" Tears finally started rolling down your cheeks as you panted, visions of old memories covered in blood flashing under your eyelids making you hyperventilate.

Joel... Where is Joel...

"You protected yourself, (Y/N), it's okay! Breathe!" Eugene ran a hand through his hair, then held you by the shoulders hesitantly.

"(Y/N)," Ellie spoke worriedly: "(Y/N), you're okay– it's okay."

You put your hands on your ears in an attempt to drown out the noises, tried opening your eyes but the images weren't going away: "I can't– can't breathe," You held onto Eugene's arms. "You're– Is she–?"

Your question died on your tongue when he pulled you into a hug, putting your chin on his shoulder, then turned to the side so you didn't see Kiki's now lifeless body: "(Y/N), we need to get you to Katherine, you're bleeding."

"She was trying to stab her?" Katherine.

"Yeah, then she said she was gonna confess something she had confessed to (Y/N), but bit her nearly in the damn artery instead." Eugene.

"And whose bright idea was it to let 'em talk alone?" Tommy.

"Mine," You weakly replied as you slowly opened your eyes.

"Jesus christ, (Y/N)," Tommy sighed, relieved, and sat to your right. You were back in the hospital, where Doctor Katherine, Eugene and Tommy had been waiting for you to wake up.

"We should put my name up outside," You said stiffly, in an attempt to make a joke. "Seems like I won't stop waking up in this room."

Katherine was sat to your left– she put a hand against your forehead, then the back of it: "I got a fever?"

"You had a mild fever while I was operating–"

"Woah, hold on– operating?" You sat up, holding your neck to find it patched up. "Was it that bad?"

"She almost tore out the meat, that crazy–" Eugene spoke, but huffed with frustration halfway.

"I don't wanna rush you," Tommy put a hand on your shoulder and gave you a worried look. "But I need you to tell me what happened."

You and Eugene exchanged a worrisome look: "Just back there, or right from the beginning?"

"Everything," Tommy said after awhile. You gave Katherine a hesitating look, which she didn't notice, but sighed and began telling everything: from the dirty looks you got, to the symbolism of flowers and the night before Ward's death; then how some townspeople were riled up against you, and finally how she confessed to everything and attacked you, ultimately resulting in her death. Tommy went a little pale throughout, especially when you told him of her confession– Same with Eugene. Katherine looked devastated.

"Some folk ain't gonna believe this," Tommy said with an apologetic look on his face.

"Well, fuck 'em– I believe her." Eugene shook his head from where he was leaning against the windowsill. You offered a brief smile.

"I believe you too, but it just sounds too absurd, no offence," Tommy said, scratching his beard. "A damn maniac and his psycho wife... Then this whole– confession?"

You just sighed and looked down, where you had been playing with your fingernails and tips nervously: "To be frank, I don't owe anyone in this town a goddamn thing, except for maybe Katherine here. I'm not gonna try and convince a bunch of people, who have no place in my business, that I'm right or whatever. I did what I had to– and I have you all, so..."

Katherine took your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze: "That you do. We got you (Y/N), you're safe."

You gave them all half a smile, struggling not to cry but you managed to keep your tears to yourself. Tommy smiled, tsked and put his hands on his hips: "Well, now I'm worried about how Joel's goin' to react."

"React to what?" Came a tired voice from the door, the voice of your husband who was supposed to be away at a run.

"Joel?" Tommy's shocked tone mixed with yours, which was laced with both relief and disbelief.

"Tony got injured before we could make it out the county, Earl and I had to bring him back," He said from the door, slowly walking in and taking Katherine's place by your side: "Ran into Daisy, said my lovely wife managed to land herself here again."

He put his hand through your hair and combed it back, giving you a solemn yet soft look, then kissed your forehead and kept his lips pressed there for a few seconds. He then pulled back and gently looked at your neck: "What happened?"

—————

tagging: @spideysimpossiblegirl @sherry-212 @joelsgeetar @peachymelon69 @assinteractions @gizmogurlie41786 @giselatropicana @unfinishedsynopsis @nervousmumbling @thewintersoldierswife @roxypeanut

[warmblanketwhump]

close proximity

two rivals, one bed, one snowstorm. what could go wrong? (word count: 1.3k)

A was furious. They’d told B that their university project could wait until tomorrow, that they’d work out the details before class. But no, B just couldn't settle for that – they had to prepare the night before. And now, B was stuck at A’s apartment as a blizzard raged outside.

"Are you happy now? Class'll probably be cancelled, and it won't even be due," A snaps.

B stands in the doorway, arms crossed, stifling a cough. “It’s your fault that I even had to come over here in the first place. If you hadn’t put your part off, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Oh don’t start,” A retorts. “I’ve got better things to do than help you keep your precious 4.0.” A and B had been at each others throats all semester, but this project was the last straw.

The snow was coming down in great white waves, and if A was a crueler person, they'd throw B right out on the stoop. But they weren't heartless.

“Look,” huffs A. “You might as well not skid off the road and blame me for that, too. Sleep on my couch. Or don’t. I don’t care.” With that, A snatches the nearest blanket and throws it B’s way, and B catches it. B looks torn, eyes glancing out at the storm and back at the blanket, then to the storm again. Coughing weakly, they sink onto the couch, resigned to their fate.

“Sleep well,” A mumbles. With that, they head back to their room, burrow into their bed, and promptly fall asleep.

Hours later, they’re woken by the freezing cold biting at their nose. A groans as they sit up, rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They snatch a blanket from the top of the pile to wrap around themselves, slip a pair of socks over their cold toes, and step back into the hallway.

They make it to their thermostat and are greeted by a dark panel where a warm glow used to be. The blizzard must’ve knocked out power - and hours ago, if it’s this cold.

A turns to go back to their room, but they’re stopped by the sound of a weak sob. They listen again, confused. Someone, sniffling, coughing in short, shuddering breaths - wait, B. That’s who’s here in their usually empty apartment.

A takes a couple hesitant steps. B’s huddled on the couch, the thin blanket pulled closely around them, knees tucked up so they’re a tightly wound ball. And even in the dark, A can see them shivering.

“B? Hey, come on. What’s wrong?” In the darkness, A can make out a small tuft of hair poking out above the blanket.

“M’ cold,” they whimper. A reaches out to feel B's forehead, too warm and speckled with sweat. A’s hand trails down to B's shoulder, feeling the thin blanket that's now their feverish body's only protection against the freezing air. The anger from hours before melts away, replaced by a guilt that punctures A's chest.

“Oh, honey-” The term of endearment slips from A’s mouth before they can stop it, remember who they’re talking to. But B either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care enough to respond, and a weak cough slips from their lips. They've been down here for hours like this.

A sits on the couch and pulls B close under their blanket, rubbing B's arms, their back, their shoulders, desperately trying to warm them up. B just presses closer, and A can feel the heat of the fever radiating off them.

The sudden intimacy just compounds A's guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

B shrugs limply, head buried in the crook of A’s neck. “I was just tired and achy before. I was just going to try and make home if you hadn't offered for me to stay. I figured you didn't really care what I did or how I felt.”

A momentary vision of B sick and stranded in a cold, broken-down car puts a lump in A's throat, and they swallow hard. "C'mon, B. We don't get along, but you can't think that I'm enjoying your suffering."

B snorts softly. "The way we go at it? I was expecting you to pitch me out on the porch." A feels a twinge in their chest - they had considered it. And yet here they were, trying to keep their sworn enemy just a little bit warmer.

Despite the fever, B’s hands are like ice. A puffs warm air onto them, vigorously trying to rub the blood back into their chilled fingers.

B groans with gratitude. "It's so warm."

A sighs. Their options for keeping B comfortable are few, especially with the power being out. And honestly, it makes their heart squeeze a bit to think of B down here, alone and sick. There's only one feasible option - and it's not one that they think B will love, either.

“C’mon,” A says, standing. They hold out their hand to B, who has the decency to look confused as they take it. “It’s freezing and God knows how long it’ll be until the heat comes back. It’ll be warmer with two of us.”

B, still drowsy, is halfway down the hall before they find it in themselves to object. “A, I’m not - we can’t share -"

“You honestly want to turn into a popsicle on my couch and get sicker?”

B drops their protests, and they reach A’s bed, piled in blankets. “It’s a mess," A says sheepishly, "but I promise it’s warmer.”

“You have SIX blankets on your bed? Normally?” A can hear the disbelief in B’s voice.

“Seven, once you bring yours. I hate being cold.”

“So do I - that doesn’t mean I need SIX blankets. Do you even feel a difference after the first three?”

“Do you want to go back to the couch?”

“....no.”

“Then be quiet and enjoy this beautiful, majestic nest I've welcomed you into.”

They help B clumsily navigate the layers, and soon they’re both tucked away, A leaving generous space between the two of them.

“A...” B whispers after a few minutes of silence.

“What?” A huffs.

“You said it'd be warmer. I’m still cold.”

“You have a fever, you kumquat – of course you're cold. These are all the blankets I have.”

B rustles in the blankets for a moment. “You know, it was kind of nice when you hugged me.”

“You mean it was warm when I hugged you.”

“Yes. It was. And being warm felt nice.”

“Are you...implying something?”

“C’mon, A. I’m cold. You’re warm. There's only one solution I can see for that.”

"B, you've got germs and you're technically warmer than I am. Just give it a minute."

B sighs dejectedly, and A can't help but feel an ache of sympathy. Even on the other side of the bed, A can feel B shaking. Though they're loathe to admit it, the bedroom is still cold. And maybe the idea of curling up next to another warm (okay, fevered) body is tempting, even if that body is likely to promptly pass on whatever plague they've got.

“Please?" B whispers a few minutes later. "I'm freezing. Just a minute or two. And then I promise you can shove me off and I'll shut up.”

A pauses for a moment. B's voice is so soft, so pleading, so unlike their usual intolerable self, and A knows they must be truly miserable if they're begging. So they give in.

"Fine. Just until you're warm enough." A scoots closer, pulling B's fevered head onto their chest and wrapping their arms around them. A can feel the tiny shivers that ripple through B's body, and they rub soothing circles onto B's back as their breathing slows. B nestles closer, and an unexpected warmth floods A's whole body. Their hand slowly makes its way towards B’s head, fingers gently running through their soft hair.

Before long, B is completely asleep. But A doesn't let go. Somehow, a small sliver of them has been won over by the least likely person imaginable. And as they drift off, they realize they might not mind at all.

[mmvalentine]

Okay, so would you be able to write that best friend kiss challenge with Feysand? Like Feyre films herself kissing Rhys (her best friend) just as a joke but then Rhys is super into it and then she’s super into it and it gets spicy😏😏

(obviously she turns the camera off before things get interesting)

Oh you kids and your tiktoks, back in my day tiktoks were called snapchats, and we more or less used them to send nudes. But seriously this trend makes me feel SO ANXIOUS because sometimes they get rejected and I feel it way too hard?! ANYWAY this is fine because this one works out, right????

I Didn't Know

Feyre was addicted.

She had lost count of how many versions of this tiktok she had seen, but she did know that about twenty minutes ago she had to pee and thought 'just one more,' yet here she was, still sprawled across the bed watching best friends kiss for the first time and riding the rollercoaster of second-hand nervous anticipation and then either gut twisting joy or empathetic mortification. Her bladder was not impressed.

It was Mor who had sent her the first one, and then it was all too easy to go down the scrolling rabbit hole. Of course, at the time Mor had added 'You should totally do this to Rhys, I would pay to see his reaction.'

At first, Feyre had thought there was no way that was going to happen. Rhys had been her best friend for the past 7 years, if they were going to date, surely it would have happened by now. Also, she was fairly certain that most of these were set up, because so many seemed to have a shockingly calm reaction to being kissed by someone they had supposedly been platonic with for years. That's just not how things felt when you were best friends.

Of course, she was impressed with how much engagement these videos got, set up or no. And so the next day, when Rhys was spent half the day teasing her about how many more followers he had than her, all she could think about was one very effective way of shutting him up. With Rhys's jawline, she just knew it would do well on social media. And of course it would be a joke. Just a joke.

It happened in the evening. Rhys was going to drop by her place after his last class, since he had finals coming up and his frat house was hardly the ideal study environment. Mor was at her girlfriend's place for the night, so Feyre had the apartment to herself. She set up her phone on the dining room table, propped up against a pile of text books and secretly recording. She made a whole plan of it- first she'd have to stall him by the door to keep him in the shot, and to have enough recording so that she could match the kiss up to the right spot in the music. And she'd have to make sure he was facing the right way so that his reaction would be clear in the shot.

At 6.30pm when Rhys was due to arrive, Feyre texted Mor. I'm doing it, she said. I'm gonna do the best friend kiss challenge on Rhys and he's gonna FREAK.

Mor replied immediately. No fucking way!!! Yes girl get it!!

Feyre laughed. Can you imagine? she wrote back. This will shut him up for sure, he's gonna be standing there looking like a fish with his mouth opening and closing. Like when Az played that prank and gift wrapped every item in his room before Christmas.

Somehow, I think this is going to top that... Mor wrote back.

I just hope he doesn't punch me out of reflex or something, Feyre joked. At that moment, footsteps neared the door from the hallway outside. Gotta go, this is gonna be hilarious, Feyre sent off. She quickly turned the camera on and put it back in its place against the book stack as the knock came.

"Girl I have so many snacks," Rhys said when she opened the door. "I am ready to study." Feyre laughed at his armfuls of assorted packages.

"I didn't realise you were planning a 3 day study lock-in," she said, and stepped out of the way. Rhys headed toward the table, and Feyre panicked. "No!" she yelped. Rhys looked at her, surprised.

"No what?" he asked.

"Uh, give those to me, and you can stay and take of your coat." She hurriedly scooped the bags of chips and chocolate out of his arms and dumped them on the table, while Rhys eyed her suspiciously.

"Okay, you weirdo," he said. He shrugged out of his coat and threw it over the arm of the couch, more than comfortable enough in Feyre's home to know where to put his things. He stepped forward, but again Feyre blocked him. He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Um, maybe we should study here on the couch," she said. Rhys raised his eyebrows.

"Instead of on the nice big dining table that I can write on, and where you've just moved all my snacks?"

"Yes. I mean no. I mean..."

"Feyre," Rhys said with mock concern. "You are seriously losing it."

"I... ah," Feyre scrambled. Oh what the hell, she only needed to fill a few bars and surely there was enough now. Before she could chicken out, Feyre stood on her tiptoes, grabbed his face in both her hands, and mashed her lips against his.

A heartbeat later, Feyre let go. She realised she had been holding her breath, and exhaled with a whoosh, giggling as she did so. She could feel herself going red, and covered her face for just a second before biting her lip and looking back for Rhys's reaction.

But there was no reaction.

Not at first. For a good three seconds he just stood frozen, and then he found her eyes. Stared at her in complete wonderment, and then with more gentleness than she had ever seen on him, he reached out his hands and lifted her chin back toward him.

Feyre barely had time to register what was happening, when Rhys's lips found hers once more.

This time, instead of the rushed surprise attack Feyre had used on him, Rhys kissed her soft and slow. Feyre's eyes widened, then slid closed, as Rhys's arms wrapped around her waist. His lips were cold from the frost outside, but when her body pressed against his it was warm in his arms, and when he tilted his head and deepened the kiss, she felt the heat of his mouth all the way in her belly.

Feyre wasn't coherent enough to be shocked. She was overwhelmed by the way her body was reacting to Rhys's kiss, and before she knew she had lifted her hands, she had his dark curls between her fingers. He tasted so good she couldn't get enough, and when she lifted up onto her toes to get closer, his fingers dug into her sides. And then the first touch of her tongue had her knees buckling.

"Feyre," Rhys moaned between kisses. "Feyre what are we doing?" He licked at her lips. "I didn't know," he whispered. "I didn't know you wanted this."

"I... I didn't know either," Feyre gasped, and then he brought his mouth back to hers before she could say anything else.

Suddenly, seven years felt so long. How had they not been doing this the whole time? How had they stood being this hungry for all these years, and how could they make up for it now? Feyre breathed in the smell of him, and loved the groan that slipped from his throat when her teeth hit his bottom lip.

"Bedroom," he struggled out, and Feyre only nodded as she untangled herself to move down the hall. Rhys caught her two steps later, pulling her back in to kiss her again.

"I thought you wanted to go to my room," Feyre said breathlessly.

"I did," Rhys mumbled against her lips. "But I first I just gotta-" He finished the sentence by licking her tongue and sucking on her bottom lip. Feyre wanted to laugh, but a second later she couldn't remember why. Besides, her mouth was busy.

"Bedroom," Rhys said again, and this time he took the lead and towed her by the waist.

Feyre only just remembered to grab her phone and hit the lock button, closing the camera off as they went. If she had had the presence of mind, she'd already be embarrassed by how much was recorded, but what did it matter? What did anything matter when her lips were swollen from being bitten and every step took them closer to bed, and Rhys, and Rhys in her bed.

They stumbled down the corridor, then one moment Rhys was roughly pushing the door shut and the next her back was hitting the mattress. Their movements were messy, frenzied. Feyre yanked off Rhys shirt, and he lifted her higher up the bed, and then suddenly there they were.

Feyre's head on the pillow and her legs wrapped around Rhys's hips. Rhys staring down at her with pupils blown wide and kiss-reddened lips. A heavy hardness pressing between them and a still, silent realisation of where they had landed.

They stayed frozen like that for a while, and then Rhys lowered his head slowly and kissed her again, soft and with his eyes open. Is this okay? the kiss said. He lifted his head, but Feyre put her hands gently on either side of his face and pulled him back to her.

More than okay, she tried to tell him back.

Rhys's body turned liquid then, rolling into hers so smoothly that it pressed the air from her lungs so she sighed into his mouth. Feyre knew he had tattoos, but it wasn't often they were on display like this and she couldn't help but think he was beautiful. Rhys changed the angle of the kiss, and moved again. This time his hips grazed hers and that unbearable pressure between Feyre's legs had her arching her back up to him, chasing the wave of his warmth. Rhys growled in his throat, and the vibration of it sent a shiver that echoed to her fingertips.

"Where have you been all my life?" Rhys groaned, as his hand slid under the hem of her shirt. The contact on her bare skin raised goosebumps and then she was feeling him everywhere. Suddenly her t-shirt was too rough, and her jeans intolerable.

"I've been here," Feyre gasped, hands reaching for Rhys's back and chest and shoulders. Needing to feel his skin, too. "I've been right here."

She lifted her arms to help Rhys get her shirt off, pulling him back down to her as soon as she could. He kissed her again and this time the line of contact down the bare fronts of their bodies burned between them.

"How did I not know?" Rhys asked, seeming to be talking to himself more than her. He slid a hand behind her back to get at her bra clasp, and then she was shivery and naked before him. She only had a second to be self-conscious about this before he squeezed one of her breasts in his hand, and put his mouth over the other. And then all she wanted was him touching her.

Rhys moved his tongue slowly over her nipple. Flicked back and forth over it, and the feeling somehow seemed to repeat itself in the apex of her thighs. Feyre's fingers tightened in the thick mop of his hair, and Rhys shifted across to the other nipple. She was just thinking she could die from pleasure like this, when he kissed in between her breasts. Down her sternum, slowing as he reached her belly. Almost reverent when he nipped at her navel, and traveled lower still.

Rhys undid the button of her jeans without lifting his lips from her skin. His hands tugged at her waistband, and when Feyre raised her hips for him to get them off, his mouth slipped downward again, and his kiss landed over her clit through her underwear.

Feyre jolted up toward him, and Rhys slid her jeans the rest of the way off her feet. He licked against the cotton of her panties, until she was panting beneath him and squirming to get closer. Finally, he pulled off the last of her clothing, and when his tongue hit her bare pussy she could have sworn she blacked out for a second.

"Mmm," Rhys hummed against her. "You taste like fucking heaven." Feyre's hands scrabbled in the sheets and then gripped Rhys's head as he moved, first in broad, rough strokes with the flat of his tongue, then flicking faster over her clit with the tip like he had on her nipple. He reached out a hand to squeeze at her breast, and the other one smoothed over her chest to hold her down.

"Can you come like this honey?" Rhys asked her, before taking her clit into his mouth in slow, suckling kisses. "I would love it if you came on my tongue." He slid it deep inside her. "Please Feyre." Returned to flicking over her clit. "Do it, please, for me."

And to Feyre's absolute surprise, she did. Came with her fists in in Rhys's hair and her legs wrapped around his head. She never came on the first time with someone. Then again, Rhys wasn't just anyone. Rhys kept his tongue moving as her hips came up off the bed, not letting her down until her climax had faded into ragged breaths.

Rhys stood then, and unzipped his own jeans. As soon as he was leaning over her again, Feyre reached down to palm his cock through his black boxer-briefs. Rhys moaned softly, and buried his face in her back as he pushed himself into her hand.

"Yeah baby, touch me," Rhys whispered, and guided her hand under his waistband.

If Feyre was honest, she would have to admit that it had crossed her mind before what Rhys might look like naked. Her eyes had snagged below his hips when he was wearing sweatpants, or was fresh out of the ocean. They had been friends a long time. And how could you not notice when Rhys looked like this?

But having her hands on him was something entirely different. Feyre curled her hand around him, and when she stroked up and down the length of him she felt first a little intimidated by his size, and then second deliciously in control when a light groan was coaxed from his lips.

"Like this?" she asked. Rhys moaned louder.

"Yeah, just like that," he said, and the muscles in his chest flexed above her. Rhys's eyes closed, and he bit down on his lip as she twisted her hand around him. It was so sexy, Feyre was moving her free hand down her own body to touch herself at the same time.

It only took a minute for Rhys to notice, and then a wicked grin was tugging up the corner of his mouth.

"You need some too, huh?" he asked, and then he took both her hands and laced his fingers through hers. Laid them either side of her face as he settled himself back down between her legs, and then lifted her hands around his neck as he kissed her.

Rhys looked her seriously then.

"Is this okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes," Feyre breathed. Rhys rolled his hips against her, and watched her lips part and her head tilt when he did it.

"You want more?" he asked.

"Yes," Feyre said again, and felt his cock twitch between her thighs.

"You want me inside of you?" he asked roughly.

"God yes," Feyre said, and then Rhys was lifting his hips and pushing inside her.

Their eyes locked, and they exhaled together as Rhys hit his hilt. Then Rhys's gaze flicked to her mouth, and he moved, out and back in, and the stretch of him was the sweetest ache.

"Fuck, Rhys," Feyre whimpered, grabbing his shoulders. He looked at her quickly.

"Okay, honey?" he asked. She laughed breathlessly and then nodded, and Rhys thrust again and she gasped as her head fell back against the pillow. "Am I hurting you?" he said. Feyre shook her head, and arched her back to get him deeper.

"Shit," Rhys barked. His hips snapped forward and his palm hit the mattress. He drew a breath through his nose, seeming to get himself under control, and then began a smooth rocking that had Feyre's eyes rolling back in her head.

"I wish I had known," Rhys said, and the words were almost despairing. "I wish I had you like this every day." Feyre's hands fluttered at his chest. "I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologise," Feyre frowned. She lifted her hips to him. "I want you."

"You've fucking got me," Rhys said, and then pulled out only to flip her over and come back from behind. Feyre moaned at the way he got deeper this way, and dropped to her forearms.

"You feel so good," she breathed.

"Oh yeah?" Rhys asked. He reached around and put two fingers over her clit. "What about now?"

Feyre got louder as the pleasure got sharper, and then her vision was clouding at the edges.

"You gonna come again for me baby?" Rhys said. Feyre couldn't answer. "You want it a little harder?"

"Yes," she gasped.

"Will you come if I fuck you hard?"

"Yes, oh god yes. Please Rhys, please."

"I'd never say no to you," Rhys said, and his free hand gripped her hip tight as he pounded into her while those fingers, now dripping wet, moved over and over her clit. "You're gonna make me come," he panted. "You look so good like this." His hips sped up. "But you gotta come first, honey. Come for me."

Feyre's spine stretched and her back arched as release found her. Rhys was so deep in her she could feel it in the bottom of her stomach, and then he was falling right behind her, and the sounds he made when he came were so damn hot she broke out in goosebumps.

Finally, Rhys dropped to the bed beside her, and pulled her down onto his chest. Feyre breathed deeply and was gratified to hear Rhys's heart going as fast as hers. She smiled into his skin, and breathed in the warm smell of him.

"Is this weird?" Rhys asked after a few minutes. His thumb stroked at her elbow.

"No," she said truthfully. She looked up at him. "Is it weird for you?"

"Honestly?" Rhys tucked an arm behind his head. "It now seems weirder that we weren't doing this the whole time." He looked at her. "What made you finally make a move?"

And that's when Feyre remembered the tik tok.

Her eyes went wide, and she felt herself going red. Rhys was bewildered. "What?" he asked. Feyre just shook her head. "You really can't tell me after we just did that?"

"Uh. I was um. Doing a tik tok?"

"You were what?"

"You know. The best friend challenge. I wanted to video your reaction if I kissed you."

Rhys pulled back suddenly. "Wait so you didn't actually want to kiss me? You just wanted a reaction video?"

"No! Well- yes, but I didn't know!" Feyre wailed.

"Know what?"

"That I wanted you so much."

Rhys blinked at her. After a tense second, his mouth twitched.

"So," he said, "in actual fact, you filmed your own reaction."

"What do you mean?"

"You surprised yourself. That's really embarrassing." He settled back down. Feyre picked up a pillow and whacked him with it.

"Shut up," she mumbled, and Rhys laughed a beautiful laugh and kissed her so sweet it made her dizzy.

****

Sweet and spicy, order up.

PS I just want to say that in modern AUs I usually make sure to like make some kind of condom reference because I'm trying to be realistic/ a good role model but this time I just COULDN'T BE BOTHERED sorry have safe sex kids.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems

[jaskierswolf]

Flaming Desires

Summary: In a world where soulmates are connected through their kinks and sexual desires, Geralt and Jaskier decide to try out something new in the bedroom. Luckily for both of them, Geralt is a firefighter.

Rating: E

CW: No sex but lots of sexual content, wax play, dom/sub vibes, general hoey vibes, mentions of sex work.

Part three in this AU, part two written by @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde. Your turn babe 😘

Also shout out to @kuripon for beta-ing

________

Dreams; they were going to be Geralt’s downfall. On the menu this week was wax play, something that hadn’t even realised he was into, but he just couldn’t stop dreaming about it. Jaskier had taken the week off filming for his OnlyFans page, so it wasn’t a video, and yet Geralt couldn’t see an ordinary tea light without getting hard. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem but Jaskier had arranged a date that evening so the two of them were sat in Jaskier’s kitchen with the lights down low, and a tacky christmas candle holder sat in the middle of the table.

And Geralt couldn’t stop watching the flame, the tiny pool of molten wax at the base of the wick. It was ridiculous but he had to sit on his hand to stop himself from reaching for the candle and dipping his fingers into the wax. He’d never had this problem before. He was a firefighter for god’s sake, fire wasn’t sexy.

“Jask?”

“Yes, darling?” Jaskier cocked his head, a coy smile playing on his lips.

“Are the candles a you thing?” Geralt asked, groaning as he tried to ignore his erection and eat his food but it was persistent and he was feeling particularly horny.

His soulmate just chuckled, never breaking eye contact as his lips wrapped around his fork. The bastard then had the audacity to moan softly, licking his lips in a way that was unfairly seductive, and Geralt was about two seconds from clearing the table and having his way with Jaskier right then and there.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jaskier purred in a low voice. “I have plans tonight, and I will not have you ruin them by being a brute.”

“Fuck you.”

“Spoilers,” the musician trilled, winking as he sipped his wine. The liquid stained his lips red which only made him look even more irresistible.

“I regret introducing you to Doctor Who,” Geralt groaned.

“No you don’t, you love me,” Jaskier giggled.

“You never answered the question,” Geralt reminded him gently, “Candles?”

His soulmate hummed, tongue swiping across his lips, as he tilted his head. Long fingers danced along the rim of his wine glass, and his blue eyes twinkled in the candlelight. All in all, Jaskier looked ethereal, something out of a painting, a fairytale. He even had the name to match, Jaskier, Buttercup, Dandelion. Geralt’s beautiful flower; gorgeous and deadly.

And completely insatiable.

“I thought they were a you thing?” Jaskier asked slowly.

Maybe they were, or maybe they’d ended up in some weird kinky loop through the soulbond… which Geralt had finally admitted existed. There was just no way it was some kind of coincidence. When he was feeling intolerably horny, there was Jaskier lying on his bed at the end of work, dressed in the prettiest stockings and Dandelion’s make-up. When he was feeling in the mood for just a good nature documentary and cuddles, Jaskier would turn up at his door with two onesies and a bag of takeout. They were just in sync, almost every day.

Geralt had never had someone in his life that had understood him like this before and it was completely exhilarating-- terrifying, but exhilarating. His brothers teased him about it relentlessly, and they were both careful about telling people how they really met, but Geralt had never been happier.

Even if he was discovering kinks he never knew he had.

Wax play… really?

“Well, fuck.”

Jaskier frowned, scratching absentmindedly at the scruff that was beginning to grow. He preferred to stay clean shaven for Dandelion, but in between videos he got lazy, and Geralt would be the first to admit it was a good look on his boyfriend. “Did you want to?”

“Yes,” Geralt said, probably far too quickly. “Yes,” he repeated more slowly as he felt his cheeks heat up, “but I don’t know how.”

Jaskier’s hand cupped his cheek, fingers caressing his jaw as they fell away. “I’ve done research. Do you trust me?”

“Always.”

“Well, that’s a lie. You wouldn’t even let me chop the vegetables,” Jaskier teased.

The memory of Jaskier’s cack-handed attempts at prepping the veg made Geralt shudder. The knives had been blunt and Jaskier had narrowly avoided a trip to A&E. “I trust you,” Geralt said again, grinning at his boyfriend, “just not with things that could kill you.”

“Fire kills,” Jaskier reminded him, “or didn’t my insanely pretty firefighter boyfriend forget?”

“I won’t let the house burn down, Jask.”

His soulmate giggled. “Can you imagine that phone call? ‘Hey, Eskel, It’s Geralt. We almost burnt Jaskier’s flat down playing with candles in the bedroom.’” Jaskier’s tone took on a gruff growl as he mimicked Geralt’s voice.

And that was it. Geralt stood up and pulled his soulmate into a kiss before he could protest, the taste of shitty red wine still on his lips. Jaskier moaned into the kiss, his fingers digging into Geralt’s hips and they both stumbled to the bedroom, dinner promptly forgotten.

In Jaskier’s bedroom were a few candles, plain looking, and yet Geralt felt a whole new wave of arousal. They were actually doing this, and Jaskier had apparently prepared. He was pleased to see a small bucket of water in the corner of the room and the fire blanket from the kitchen. There were times that he forgot that Jaskier and Dandelion the sex worker were the same person. Jaskier was a professional, and he took everything they did very seriously… and Geralt fucking loved him for it. He felt safe when they played like this, and it even gave him the confidence to submit to his soulmate. That hadn’t happened very often before Jaskier.

Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s hand as he pulled him over to the bed, cupping his cheeks as they kissed lazily, neither in any real rush, until Jaskier pulled away. He was smiling softly at Geralt in a way that made his heart flutter, as if there was any doubt how much Geralt loved him.

“Take off your shirt, love,” Jaskier told him, pressing a final kiss to Geralt’s cheek before getting up to fetch the candles. “I ordered a soy candle, it’s meant to be good for beginners. Cooler burn rate, but you will let me know if it hurts too much? We can stop at any time, just say your word,” Jaskier started to ramble, a nervous habit that Geralt found so endearing.

He pulled off his shirt before crossing the room to press his lips to the nape of Jaskier’s neck and his arms wrapped around his boyfriend’s middle. “Stop worrying, Julek.”

“Oh,” Jaskier hummed.

“I trust you,” Geralt reminded him.

“Hmm, I love you,” Jaskier murmured, spinning in Geralt’s arms and capturing his lips in a kiss. “Okay, right, on the bed.”

“Back or front?” Geralt asked, but he already knew the answer. He always seemed to know, but Jaskier liked to verbalise it so Geralt let him, especially as this was a new kind of play for them.

“Front please. Thank you, darling,” Jaskier smiled warmly as he struck a match, the soft golden glow from the flame lighting up his face beautiful, before he lit one of the candles.

Geralt did as he was told, propping himself up on his arms whilst he waited for his soulmate. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift, focusing on the soft melody that Jaskier was humming under his breath. There was a tingle of heat itching under his skin, and he was pretty sure his boxers were a mess in his trousers from the way his cock was aching. He had no doubt he was already leaking, but he did his best to stay still, resisting the urge to rut against the mattress. Jaskier would tell him if he were allowed to do so.

“Oh look at you, absolutely perfect, pretty as a picture,” Jaskier cooed.

His cheeks burnt, and he had to bury his face in his arms. Geralt loved the praise, but he was easily overwhelmed by it, in a good way, mostly. He still struggled to believe that Dandelion, his crush for so long, was now his boyfriend - no - his soulmate, that the videos were and always had been practically made for before either of them knew.

Jaskier pressed a kiss to his shoulder, and he hummed, letting his boyfriend know he was okay, and then Jaskier’s fingers were in his hair, scraping against his scalp. The sensation was nearly too much and he moaned, the sound muffled by his arms. Jaskier chuckled as he pulled Geralt’s hair into what felt like a ribbon, and then Geralt felt his boyfriend’s hands run down the length of his spine.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

They’d barely started and already he felt like his entire body was on fire. He felt heady with arousal and his cock was aching to be touched.

“Ready?” Jaskier asked, his voice sounding as wrecked as Geralt felt.

Geralt just grunted, and then, at Jaskier’s stern silence, mumbled a ‘yes’. He shivered as he felt Jaskier’s breath against his skin, gasping as Jaskier swatted his arse. The room was silent apart from the soft singing of his soulmate, and Geralt could do nothing but wait patiently, or rather impatiently.

Until…

“Cock!” Jaskier spluttered, his words swiftly followed by a resounding thud.

“What the fuck?”

He bolted upright, still feeling a little spaced, but he recognised the smell of carpet burning and it was enough to cut through the fog in his mind. Jaskier was sitting on the floor, legs sprawled and the candle had fallen onto the rug, catching on the synthetic fibres.

“Jaskier!” he growled, snapping his boyfriend from his shock.

“Oh- oh fuck!” Jaskier scrambled for the water bucket.

The fire didn’t last long but the mood was killed. They both just stared at each other across the singed rug, until Jaskier cracked a smile and they burst into laughter. Jaskier couldn’t stop apologising in between fits of giggles, pressing his face into Geralt’s neck to hide his embarrassment. Despite the almost torturous week of wet dreams prior, Geralt could only chuckle as he held his boyfriend close.

They would just have to try again another day.

[tennessoui]

#18 Prompt: Ohio in Pre-Slash,16/17 year old Anakin has had a crush on his Master for awhile but knows/thinks Obi-Wan would never return his feels. He's almost completely given up and is think about maybe finding a substitute outlet. Then Obi-Wan gets amnesia while they are stranded on an uninhibited planet. Their Locator Beacon only giving off a general area. Obi-Wans amnesia leaves out the Code, and that he's Anakins teacher so the Boy calls him Master so he MUST be Obi-Wans pet/slave.

ahh so i could easily see this going dubcon and smutty and if i were better i might have gone that way too but instead i made some pining fluff but i hope you still like it!!

18. Waking Up With Amnesia (Hurt!Obi-Wan, underage!pining!Anakin, misunderstandings)

Anakin does his level best to land the ship gently, he really does. But he can’t work miracles here, and the locals had damaged their hull quite effectively when they had shot at them as they descended from atmo.

Friendly negotiations, yeah right. When Anakin gets his hands on these guys, he’s gonna show them exactly how friendly Anakin can be. But first he has to make the landing. And then he has to make sure his master is okay. Failure on either of these fronts is not an option.

His master had just gotten up to go to the back to grab their identification. They had been talking, seriously for once and without anger or impatience laced through their words--he’d said he was proud to have him as his padawan, that Anakin had grown into a young man anyone would be fortunate to know.

Anakin had turned to watch his master leave, his shields raised high but his eyes stripped bare. He’d be eighteen in two months. Somehow he’d made it through most of his time as a Padawan already. With his impending adulthood comes the realization that he has no more time for words of anger or scorn, not directed to his master at least. In a few years at most, Obi-Wan would be free of him by all Jedi rules and obligations.

Now more than ever he has to convince his master to want to keep him around. It’s a grueling task, made more difficult by how terribly difficult Anakin had been in the last, say, nine years. What with his pod-racing, his temper, his pride, his stubbornness--his huge and achingly obvious hero worship turned crush on the older Jedi.

But he can’t lose Obi-Wan, can’t even stand the idea of his master leaving him. The idea of missions alone while his master cavorts around the galaxy without hm--with another Padawan?--is absolutely intolerable. No. He has to convince the Jedi to want him as more than a Padawan. To want him as a friend, as a partner.

(In his wildest fantasies, as more than that, too.)

But now, as if the Force has heard his thoughts and is punishing him, the ship is crashing and his master has been hurt somewhere behind him but he can’t check without losing control of the vessel completely. He just has to--land--on this wide stretch--of karking sand.

It’s not his best landing, but they’re on the ground at least. The first thing he does is, of course, throw off his own landing protector and rush to Obi-Wan’s side, pulling his body out of the mangled remains of their ship and into the light and heat of outside. His master is unconscious, but he doesn’t seem to be bleeding terribly nor fatally. Now, and only now, he thanks the Force.

That’s when he notices the startling wet and spreading red across his master’s usually pristine robes.

Never mind, he tells the Force, fumbling with Obi-Wan’s belt in a panic. He needs to treat the wound, which means he needs to see it, which means he needs to get these outer robes off, as well as his master’s inner tunic.

“If I’m ever undressing you again, I swear to the Force you better be cognizant,” he mutters to himself as he rips at the fabric of the thin undershirt. “So many layers and not one of them protects you from debris, how is that fair?” He continues as he pushes Obi-Wan to the side far enough so he can see the man’s bare shoulder and the cut itself. It doesn’t look deep, at least, but it is long, spanning at least Anakin’s entire hand.

How much bacta do they have? Is their distress beacon working? Does Anakin want it to be working? Half of him thinks no, because what if the locals show up to finish them off? Half of him thinks yes, because he’d love to get his hands on the creatures responsible for Obi-Wan’s current state now.

It’s a very un-Jedi thought, but Anakin can’t even feel bad for it. He goes back into the wreckage of their ship--and he knows already he’s going to hear about this from the Council, as if anyone else could have done better--and grabs their first aid kit.

There’s bandages and bacta and that’s the important thing, he reminds himself. He’ll fix up the wound and then worry about why Obi-Wan hasn’t woken up yet.

But. Well. There’s not a great way to patch it up. The only thing he can think of is to give Obi-Wan’s form a solid thing to lean his head against while keeping his lower back pressed against the durasteel. It’s an awkward angle, but any other would result in Obi-Wan getting a face full of sand, and Anakin wouldn’t do that to his worst enemy, let alone his master.

Look. There’s no delicate way to put it. He straddles his lap and brings his head so it can rest on his chest as he works.

Of course this is when Obi-Wan begins to stir. Anakin tightens his hold on him and tries to send feelings of relief and calm through the Force. He needs Obi-Wan to not startle away from him until he finishes putting on the bacta. They can be embarrassed about this later. They’ll laugh about this later.

“You’re fine, Master,” Anakin murmurs at what he decides to take as a garbled word of confusion. “I crashed the ship, you can punish me later.”

Anakin can feel Obi-Wan’s signature spike around him, but he’s too intent on his task to figure out what specifically his master is feeling.

“What--” Obi-Wan mumbles, hand coming up to brace his head.

Anakin leans back as he finishes, tapping gently on Obi-Wan’s cheek until the man lifts his eyes to look at him. They’re dazed and confused.

“Master?” Anakin asks.

Obi-Wan’s brow furrows. “Master?”

Now Anakin’s getting very worried. “How many fingers am I holding up?” he demands.

Obi-Wan blinks. “You’re...not holding up any fingers,” he says, words becoming clearer the longer he talks. “I’m sorry

“Master,” he says slowly. “How are you feeling?” “Confused,” Obi-Wan says. “And...worried. And sick. Why are you calling me that?” “Calling you what, Master?”

“That. Master,” Obi-Wan looks sick just saying the word. Anakin scrambles up off his lap and kneels in the sand in front of him.

Panic clogs at his throat, making it even harder to force words out. “This isn’t a funny joke, Master.”

Now Obi-Wan looks distressed. “I’m not joking!” He looks wildly around and then clutches at his head in pain. “I don’t know who you are. Who I am. And I need you to stop calling me master because it’s making me feel sick to my stomach knowing that apparently I’m the kind of person who owns slaves because I know it’s wrong.”

Anakin blinks. It’s a lot to process. “You don’t remember?” is the first thing he says. He wants to say anything or anyone or perhaps the Jedi Order you’ve been a part of since you were a baby, but instead what comes out is, “Me?”

“I don’t remember myself, how am I supposed to remember you? Did you expect me to?”

Anakin stays quiet because well. Yeah. He hadn’t thought anything could really truly make his master forget him. Not time, not distance, not anything. Looking at Obi-Wan looking at him now without any sort of familiarity feels like all of his worst nightmares coming true.

His master glances down at his half-dressed state and then back to Anakin suspiciously.

It’s a harsh expression without the fond exasperation that usually hovers in the back of Obi-Wan’s eyes when he sees Anakin.

“What were you doing?” Obi-Wan asks him. “Why were you...touching me?”

“Nothing!” Anakin yelps, knowing that is the worst response he could have given. “I mean. I was tending to you, Master.”

He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Ah, kark.

“Don’t call me that,” Obi-Wan snaps, looking furious. Anakin wants to explain that he can’t not, that Master is as much as Obi-Wan’s name to him as Padawan is Anakin’s. “You mean to say I’m such a terrible person that I don’t just own a slave but a pleasure slave?”

Anakin thinks he must be blushing to the roots of his hair. “No!” he yells, much louder than he intends. “No, you don’t own me, M--Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan mouths his name as if it’s a new word. Anakin is about to break into hysterical laughter.

“I’m your apprentice,” Anakin forges ahead. “We use Master as a term of respect for our teachers.” He adds, “I was tending to your wound,” just so Obi-Wan doesn’t next think that Anakin was trying to take advantage of him or something. There’s only so many misconceptions he can deal with in one sitting, especially with the amount of panic that’s raging through his brain.

Obi-Wan looks achingly hopeful. Anakin supposes that without the memory of years of emotional suppression training, he’ll be able to see what his master is feeling more easily. He wonders if he could get Obi-Wan to laugh or smile. He’d kill for one unbridled grin from the other man, although there’s nothing joyful about the situation they’re in right now.

“You’re the best man I know, Obi-Wan,” Anakin tells him softly. “I know you don’t remember right now, but I promise you’d never do that to someone. You’re good. And honest and brave and kind and…” he trails off and looks away, crossing his arms over his chest as he’s hit with the reminder of everything he stands to lose if Obi-Wan’s memory loss can’t be undone. “We’ll get this fixed. It’s just temporary. I won’t let it be permanent.” He says the last part fiercely and mostly to himself. “I won’t.”

Obi-Wan smiles, just slightly and reaches out a hand. Perhaps his need to comfort a distressed Anakin is simply instinctive. “I believe you,” he whispers back. “I trust you.”

Anakin beams. And then he thinks of something else. For a second, he wonders about whether or not he should ask the question that’s burning up his mind, but he needs to know now that he’s asked himself. “Ma--Obi-Wan, why did you think that I was. Um. A pleasure slave?”

Obi-Wan’s blush is a thing of wonder. It could single-handedly keep them both warm on Hoth itself.

“Because of how we were positioned when we woke up,” Obi-Wan mumbles, burying his face in his hands. “And because you look like that.” The last part is said from behind his fingers.

Some sort of unfamiliar fire lights itself in Anakin’s stomach. “I look like what?” he prompts, barely daring to breathe.

But this Obi-Wan must not remember why he shouldn’t always be straightforward with the truth, especially to Anakin who he’s said he trusts.

(Obi-Wan trusts him!)

“Beautiful,” Obi-Wan says, so hushed and embarrassed that Anakin almost can’t hear it over the sound of his heart beating.

Inappropriately for their current situation, Anakin wants to crow in victory as the flame inside him grows larger.

Obi-Wan trusts him. At least on some level. Instinctively. And a part of him, stripped of his Jedi code and teachings and lifestyle, thinks that Anakin is beautiful.

He puts a name to the burning in his chest. It’s hope.

[cherrybombwritesstuff]

Infiltration

My Piece for the Citrus Dome Collab featuring Villain!Hawks :D

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hawks/ Keigo Takami

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Sub/Dom Dynamics

The night was hot as hell. Strands of hair stuck to your forehead and sweat tickled your cheeks. Summer humidity was bad enough and it was near unbearable to stand while you were stuffed inside a ventilation shaft. Despite its dilapidated state, the old hospital had been locked down tighter than Tartarus. Iron bars at every window, thick, new padlocks with hefty chains strewn across every door. It had taken a while to map out the internal workings of the building and even now with every precaution you had taken, you still prayed your target was blissfully unaware that the entry to the airways could indeed be silently pried open and, were actually big enough for you to fit; as long as you remained stealthy enough. At some points the rusted metal had groaned under your weight, forcing your heart into your throat as you froze and waited. Your target wasn’t due here just yet, in fact he wasn’t due for another hour or so. Patience would reward you on this job, since Hawks was damn near impossible to sneak up on. You would wait as long as it took. Arriving later would run the risk of being seen either by him or some other lackey at his disposal. You would wait, no matter how damned uncomfortable it was or how much you craved a cleansing shower when all of this was said and done. 

Minutes ticked by like hours. The only thing worse than the thick air was the encompassing darkness. Well that, or the fuzzy layer of dust that coated the surface of the shaft as well as your clothes. At least it wasn’t your hero outfit, that would have been too recognisable. Every movement through the air ducts had been measured, care taken not to disturb the dirt and knock it into your nose. It was strenuous and your muscles were already aching, but if you managed to obtain the intel you needed, all of this nonsense would be so very worth it. Slowly, gently you adjusted your legs to ease the dull ache forming in them. It would all be worth it, it had to be. A few months back your agency had been informed that Hawks had gone rogue. His double agent activities had been completely hidden from the public, as well as most of the heroes working in the area. Higher ups stuffed in expensive suits were mopping their brows as they revealed the situation. Keigo’s abilities we’re too good, he was the number two hero and they refused to believe he had been captured. The only other reason he would stop all communication was defection. It seemed far fetched to you, but not impossible. 

Your breath caught in your throat as your vision suddenly flooded with dull light. Through the thin grating before you, slots of sickly yellow illuminated the cramped space, revealing just how grimy it was and you didn’t wanna think about the metres of muck you’d just crawled through. Heavy double doors swung open in the room beneath you. After all your tracking, shaking down informants and crappy civilian disguises to map out Hawk’s movements, the bastard had deviated his schedule and arrived much earlier than anticipated. That flush of crimson feathers was a dead giveaway as he sauntered over to a desk and took a seat at his leisure. Strangely, he was alone. Adrenaline was rushing through your veins as you peered through the grating from your hidden perch. Tailing this man had been near impossible. Everybody was tightlipped about the whole affair, either through fear or loyalty. Thankfully, the application of alcohol in a seedy, underground bar finally loosened the tongue of a low ranking villain , that and your favourite little black dress. All he gave you was a slurred complaint of his newest colleague and how the “young featherbrained upstart” didn’t know his place. 

Hawks breathed out a languid sigh, propping his booted feet onto the desk as he stretched his arms above his head as though he’d just come home from his daily nine to five job. After following the movements of the loudmouth villain, you’d been able to tail the number two hero after a brief meeting. He hadn’t been an easy mark, but at the very least you had a feasible time table for a few evenings out of the week. He always came to this abandoned hospital as a sort of base of operations and up until now, he hadn’t been alone. Your muscles tensed as you continued to watch him, waiting for others to show up, for something tangible to happen that you could record and report back with. After moments of sweet nothing, he pushed himself away from the desk, chair legs screeching across the cracked floor as he gave himself enough room to stand. His wings spread in another stretch with an impressive span that almost hit wall to wall. They shuddered, feathers bristling before he tucked them close to his back once again and started removing his jacket. 

At this point you couldn’t blame him, the heat was intolerable regardless of what tiny space you just so happened to be crammed in. That black shirt beneath clung to his skin, tight and form fitted to every curve and bump of his lean muscle. There was no avoiding it; the man was damned beautiful, though you internally kicked yourself for such a thought while you were on a mission. Bringing your focus back to your target proved difficult however when he took hold of the bottom of his shirt and started to lift. Your mouth was cotton dry,  even at this angle you could see his firm abdominals as they were slowly revealed. You almost forgot to swallow, biting your lip hard enough to bruise it. Heat was rising, threatening to make you boil beneath your skin. Your stomach felt like it was twisting your guts and you had to grit your teeth to keep your body from twitching. Was this really ok? Granted you were here to spy on the hero but this seemed to take it a step too far. For a second you shut your eyes, carefully wiping your brow before forcing your attention back to Hawks who was now shirtless.

Just as you resigned yourself to your fate, a light tingle fluttered against the back of your neck. You ignored it, brushing off the feeling to remain still. Hawks spread his wings, flapping them as he stood to create a light pulse of air to rush through the grate you were looking through. Dust curled upwards and you felt your nose tickle and your eyes itch. He couldn’t have done that on purpose, he couldn’t have detected you in here just yet. Nose pinched and eyelids fluttering the tears away, you kept quiet and still, until that crawling sensation returned to the back of your neck. It was too firm to be sweat and it couldn’t have been your hair. Nausea swirled in your stomach at the thought of an insect exploring your skin. Gently you reached behind you, especially careful not to shift your weight as you reached for the offending creature. Your eyes bulged in their sockets as your fingertips brushed against a row of soft fronds. Fear swelled in your throat too thick to swallow. Instinctively you snatched and the second your fist curled around the object, you recognised the shape. Still you brought it to the light, dread clawing at your skin as you confirmed the crimson red feather between your fingers. 

“Enjoying the show?” 

The cocky drawl of his voice had you clenching your jaw. He knew you were here, he knew exactly where you were thanks to that blasted feather. The mission was over; now you were the target. There was no time to reason or bargain, you were dealing with a traitor who just so happened to be one of the strongest heroes in Japan. Golden eyes were now fully focused in your direction, though he couldn’t see you through the metal. His wings shuddered, opening fully before dozens of feathers released around him and pointed straight up. Time to run. Employing your quirk, you lashed yourself to the side of the vent behind you. You moved quickly, drawn to the surface like a magnet until you hit it with both feet. Feathers ripped through the airway and followed your lead, giving you no time to waste. Adjusting your position, you lashed yourself to the next side, effectively reversing back out of the shafts at a frantic speed. Finally you were able to point your feet up and bust back out onto the roof. The weaving vents helped in slowing down the feathers, but you had no doubt they were still following behind. Landing with a clumsy roll, you righted yourself and sprinted to the edge of the hospital. 

The breeze was a relief as you focused on the side of another building, the force of your quirk pulling your body towards it as though you’d been thrown. Your quirk had been difficult to master, often it would send you hurtling across a room with no control. Now you could switch it off and on at will, using it to lash yourself to an object as long as it was enough to support your weight. It allowed you to clear impossible distances in one jump, hopefully tonight it would allow you to shake off your pursuer. The city flashed by you in a blur as you picked up speed, rocketing from building to building. You twisted your body, chancing a look behind you. Hawks was following your movements quickly, beating his powerful wings to close the distance. The cocky bastard even had time to put his jacket back on before he gave chase. He would catch you if you continued like this, if not him then the horde of feathers that were also headed your way. It was obvious from his recent activity that Hawks didn’t want to be seen, so you had to bring this pursuit within the view of the public. 

Midway through your leap, you cancelled out your quirk and allowed yourself to freefall. Turning your head slightly, you couldn’t resist but throw a mock salute at the winged hero. Though he was a fair distance away, you could have sworn you could see a smirk splitting his face. You dropped between vast blocks of concrete. Before you fell too low, you reached out with your quirk once again and shot your way to the side of an office building. The chase was far from over and despite the stakes, a part of you was enjoying the thrill. You zipped through the city, lashing yourself from structure to structure. Hawks likely wouldn’t follow you himself, but there was a chance his feathers would. Charging through the twists and turns of the city at full speed was rapidly draining your energy. Limbs burned with promises of aches and pain for days to come after this. It didn’t matter though, all you had to do was retreat far enough in one burst then report back to your agency. Your lungs were burning by the time you made it to a dark corner of the city, a quiet area you seldom came to. You let yourself drop, utilising a weak pull of your quirk to drop yourself down and continue on foot. 

After rushing into an alley, you finally stopped to check your surroundings. No sign of feathers, no sign of Hawks. For a precaution you gave it a few moments before you allowed yourself to breathe a sigh of relief. Your body ached, covered in a sheen of sticky sweat and who knows what else from the dusty air ducts. As you stripped your kevlar, you tapped your communicator and waited for a reply.

“Hey, I uh hit a snag.” you panted, leaning against the wall for support.

“So I can see, why the sudden escape?” Command had been tracking your movements, though you had to wonder if that had compromised you somehow.

Strictly for rescue they said, you had no reason to argue against it. 

“He knew I was there. More than that, he knew I was going to be there ahead of time. The second he arrived he was searching for me.” you explained, sweeping hair from your forehead. 

“I see. Are you safe?” 

At this point you could only make the assumption that you were. You didn’t think Hawks would risk being seen, not after he’d tried so hard to stay off the radar. 

“I’m pretty sure I lost him. Populated area, he won’t want to be seen here. He’s too easily recognised.” you replied, scoping out the buildings nearby. 

“He saw my quirk though, probably knows who I am…” 

Silence fell from the other line before you heard an exasperated sigh. 

“Then we’ll secure your home. I’ll send an escort to pick you up from this hotel, check in and get some rest while you’re waiting.” 

You expected as much. Though the thought of Villain lackeys invading your personal space made you sick to your stomach. 

“Thanks… I’ll head over there now.” 

After the adrenaline filtered out of your system you were left with a lead weight in your gut. The hotel location fed through on your watch and you trudged in it’s direction, limbs tingling and heavy from fatigue. The mission had failed and you had been revealed to the enemy, what a night… 

The hotel was pretty basic, not that it mattered. After checking in you had only one thing on your mind, a hot, soothing shower. Even stripping off your clothes was a chore, peeling them from your wet skin, they were left to fall into a heap, kevlar and all. Cooling water hit your flesh like a cleansing wash over your body. A low moan escaped you as you stood beneath the flow, gently covering the entirety of your tired form. Muscled relaxed, your tense shoulders finally dropped and you were finally at a comfortable temperature after enduring that damned humidity.  Mulling over the events of the day however, had you rubbing your temples in frustration. How did he know? That wolfish grin stuck in your mind like a splinter. Followed by the image of Hawks casually stripping before your eyes. Maybe you could at least take that as a consolation prize, it was a damned pleasing sight after all. You were almost disappointed that he hadn’t carried the charade on a little longer, given himself enough time to drop those trousers as well.

Mentally you shook yourself, attempting to push the thought out of your head but the more you tried, the deeper it was planted. Your hands roamed your body as you rinsed away the last of the shower gel. The thought of those gold, piercing eyes staring straight into yours sent pleasant tingles beneath your skin. You bit your lip before releasing a breath you didn’t even know you were holding before parting your legs. The mission failed, there was no harm in cheering yourself up a little, was there? The instant your fingers slipped between your thighs you began to feel relief from the building ache. Your breath hitched as you allowed your fingertips to roam the length of your folds before gently circling your already swollen clit. There was no stifling the mewl that drifted from your open mouth. His chiseled face, that cocky smile and that sculpted body were all you could see. You yearned to touch him, flutter your fingertips against his chest, along the ridges of his abs and further still. You wanted to see him above you, caging you in with those powerful arms. Fingers slipped between your slick petals, easily sliding inside you and you sighed in pleasure. Doing this to yourself over a suspected villain no less, was different. The danger, the rush you associated with him only made your body increase in sensitivity and you just couldn’t keep yourself quiet.

“Fuck…” you breathed, leaning against the cool tiling of the shower. 

You released a shaky breath, your fingers pulsing faster and faster at the thought of that beautiful man fucking you into next week. 

“H-Hawks…” 

Whispering his name only heightened the rush. With your free hand you reached for your breast, teasing and rolling your swollen nipple between your fingers.  

“Hawks… fuck me Hawks…” you whimpered a little louder for your own benefit.

“Maybe if you ask nicely…” 

The world stopped. Your body froze in place. That voice was unmistakable. That outline of a winged man waiting beyond the translucent shower curtain could only belong to one person. 

“Oh...shit.” was all you could muster as you pulled your fingers out. 

The bathroom became silent once you turned off the water, aside from a few nervous drips that seemed to emulate your pounding heartbeat. 

“I’ll save you some face, little bird.” he told you and you could hear the insufferable grin in his voice. 

“You can put this on before we have a little...chat.” 

He stepped towards the shower, slipping the bathrobe provided by the hotel past the curtain while the rest of him remained respectfully hidden. What choice did you have but to take it? Gingerly you accepted the robe, slipping it over your naked form and gaining back at least a little dignity. Once the belt was tied securely, the curtain was pulled back to reveal your target, free hand settled on his hips.

“Pardon the phrase but, if you come quietly it’ll make it easier on the both of us.” 

His tone was almost sickeningly pleasant and you could feel heat rushing to your cheeks. He offered his hand to you, which understandably you were very hesitant to take. His smile faded, golden eyes flashing dangerously every second that lurched by. 

“I don’t have time for this.” he said bluntly.

Some of his larger feathers detached, floating to his sides to point directly at your throat. You lifted your head and backed away, knowing just how deadly these crimson blades could be. 

“If you’re gonna be stubborn about it, you can take a nap.” 

Before you could react, Hawks pulled a small capsule from his pocket and flicked it straight at you. Before it made impact, it split in two and it’s contents and burst into a small cloud of fine powder. You flinched and turned your head but it made no difference. The powder hit your nostrils and the effect was almost instant. Your head felt heavy as it swayed, your legs buckling as you were overwhelmed by a sickening dizziness.  Darkness enveloped the corners of your vision as you fell forward, caught by a pair of strong arms before everything faded to black.

The ground was cold beneath your bare feet. Your head lolled back in your sleepy haze. A firm grip bruised your wrist until your arms were locked into place above your head. Once the hold was released, you slumped to your knees and landed clumsily on a floor of concrete. Slowly your senses sharpened. A musty, damp scent filled your nose. The sticky humidity of the night air was chased away by the chill of your wet hair. Your limbs were still weak, bones as useful as jelly as your eyelids fluttered open. The light was dim and it took a while for your eyes to adjust. Warm fingertips slid against your jaw, gently lifting your head as a bottle of water was placed against your parted lips. 

“Drink up little bird, don’t want you getting sick on me now…” 

His voice could have been soothing in the right setting. But Hawks wasn’t playing the part of a hero anymore. 

“How considerate…” you mumbled, blurred vision slowly climbing back to normalcy. 

He chuckled, dragging a steel chair to sit across backwards. 

“Still got that smart mouth even now... does that make you gutsy, or stupid?” 

Tugging at your wrists proved worthless. The rope was secured tight, fastened neatly around both arms yet surprisingly it wasn’t uncomfortable.

“Which one gets me outta here alive?” you replied back, a weak smile forming on your lips. 

He clicked his teeth, wings folding neatly behind him as he rest his chin on his forearms. 

“Oh does it have to be so final? I just wanted to ask you some questions…” 

He sounded eerily calm, as though he hadn’t just kidnapped a pro hero and tied them up in a grungy warehouse. You shifted your weight, the drowsy feeling now dissolved into irritating tingles throughout your arms and legs. 

“My name is (y/n), I like long walks on the beach if  you wanna know my star sign is-”

A bark of laughter cut you off. 

“Funny little bird, aren’t you?” he said between giggling, “But the sooner you comply, the quicker we can get outta here… so let’s get serious…” 

His tone lowered, his gaze fixed with those dangerous golden orbs locked with yours. Casually he plucked out a feather, idly twirling between his fingers. 

“I already know your agency, figured that much out when I saw your quirk.” 

Your lips pressed together in a tight line. If Hawks was working with the Villains now, did that mean he could focus their attention on you? A shudder danced up your spine and you weren’t sure if it was due to the cold, or the way Hawks was looking you up and down, like a predator cornering it’s wounded prey. 

“But I wanna know who put you on this mission, which suit gave the order to spy on me?”

It was a simple enough question, too bad you didn’t have a decent answer for him. Averting your gaze, you chewed your bottom lip as you tried to access the situation. Part of you wanted to believe Hawks hadn’t quite crossed over to the other side, that he wouldn’t harm you even if you didn’t obey him. He clicked his teeth and released the feather. 

“C’mon now little bird, don’t force my hand here…” he grunted. 

You watched as the scarlet blade floated closer, inching it’s way nearer to your face. In a split second more had joined of various sizes, all pointed at your prone body. 

“I’m sure you know these feathers aren’t gonna tickle, so how about you tell me what I need to know…” 

His face had darkened, his grip on the back of the chair tightened making it creak. 

“I… I don’t know. I wasn’t there for the meeting, I was just asked to take this on by my usual team…” you meekly replied, gauging his face for some sort of reaction. 

He simply stared for a moment before exhaling a breath he’d apparently been holding. Yet the feathers remained pointed at you. 

“Fine. Then what were your orders?” 

He sighed out that last question. In the low light you could just about see dark circles resting beneath both eyes. His hair was in it’s usual shaggy style, flopping over his brow in strands that you wanted to smooth back in spite of yourself. Yet there were more than a few fly aways, something a little more unkempt to   what you were used to seeing. 

“Uh, you want me to recount the entire briefing?” you bit back with a raised eyebrow. 

The chair screeched as he shoved it away, stepping clear of it to close the gap between you and crouch down to your level. At this proximity you could smell his cologne, along with another scent reminiscent of baked goods. Even now, tied up with feather blades inches away from cutting your flesh, you could feel the heat at your core returning. He said nothing, instead letting his deadpan expression make the threats for him. 

“L-look I… I don’t have any details. You stopped contact with the Heroes, they sent somebody to check on you.” 

It was true to a point. You weren’t entirely sure what else he needed to hear, but you stopped searching for extras when that smile slowly reappeared on his handsome face. 

“They sent you. A fresh faced new hero to catch me in the act. They sent you after the number two hero expecting a job well done?” 

His feathers drooped, turning away from you before they fit back into his wings as he stretched them out to accommodate. His head dropped, fingers pinching his brow in frustration. His words stung. It was true you were a relatively new hero, but you had still made it into a prestigious agency. Hawks rubbed his eyes before raising his gaze back up to meet yours. 

“Oh little bird don’t give me that face, you’ll break my heart.” 

He reached out, tucking wayward hair back behind your ear. His fingertips barely grazed your skin, yet the effect was powerful. Gooseflesh erupted down your arms and a tingling shiver rattled your limbs. 

“Honestly I was impressed. You’re scarily good at covering your tracks. The only problem is when you find a mark with a big mouth, the information goes both ways.” he grinned. 

You flashed back to your nights at the bar. The suited man you had flirted relentlessly with for just a hint of a trail must have mentioned you to his colleagues. As careful as you had been in your line of questioning, it stood to reason that Hawks would have been overly cautious about who had his name in their mouth. Your head dropped a little, a defeated smile on your face. 

“I guess the gamble didn’t quite pay off…” you lamented, shifting your legs and pressing your thighs together. 

He was still close, close enough to feel the warmth of his skin even when he wasn’t directly touching you.

“That’s the way it goes sometimes… Though I have to say I’m disappointed I didn’t get to see the short, black number he described… what was it he said exactly? That it left nothing to the imagination?” 

Oh now he looked damned pleased with himself. That wolfish grin urged you to shuffle back against the wall as much as you could, not that you could go any further. Blood rushed to your cheeks and your eyes were wide and unblinking.  THis cocky bastard was flirting. 

“W-well I don’t see how you can complain given you caught me in my birthday suit!” 

The words came out of your mouth before your brain could catch up and stop you. He caught you alright, he caught you two fingers deep and calling out his damned name and you just reminded him of that. He held up his hand, eyes sparkling in amusement. 

“Ah no, I saw your silhouette. I wouldn’t peek on a lady taking a shower, I’m not some sort of pervert…” 

Something about his crooked smile sparked rebellion. You pulled at your ropes and moved closer to him.

“Oh? Then what was with that mini strip show at the hospital?” 

Your voice wavered a little more than you wanted it to. Hawks’s wings twitched and he turned his head to the side. 

“Did you enjoy the view, little bird?”

His voice spilled from him like liquid velvet. Your breath hitched, heart drumming obnoxiously against your chest and he was getting closer. 

“Is this how I’ll get my answers from you? With honey instead of vinegar…” 

He was an inch away. If your hands weren’t bound you could have touched him so easily. He rocked onto his knees, his fingers curled beneath your chin to keep you still.

“Why don’t we recreate that little fantasy you were having at the hotel…” 

His voice was a whisper before his lips pressed against yours. His mouth was hot, demanding and suffocating, everything you imagined it would be. You whimpered against him, wide eyes shutting as you dropped your defenses and fell into his movements.

“What a pretty sound…” he growled, breaking the kiss with a bite on your bottom lip. “I wanna hear more…” 

You gasped as he trailed a path of kisses along your jawline, locks of hair tickling your face as he closed in on your sensitive neck. Teeth grazing your skin left you breathless and wanting. Fingertips trailed up your exposed thigh, giving it a firm squeeze as his lips and tongue continued to toy with you. 

“Ah-Hawks…” you breathed, voice shamelessly laden with lust. 

He hummed as he sucked your flesh, biting down softly. 

“D-did you betray the heroes? Are you… are you really working with the Villains?” 

His mouth stilled, leaving a soft kiss behind before he pulled back to meet your gaze. 

“If I say yes, will you want me to stop?” he asked simply, hand resting on your leg. 

The hero side of you screamed internally. You couldn’t sleep with a goddamned traitor, you were supposed to be part of the solution. A role model, a shining light in the dark. Yet for weeks on end this man had occupied your thoughts. You had gone to extreme lengths to find him, reading up about every little detail you could to get to know him. It had become something of an obsession, the drive to succeed and impress your agency transformed into figuring out the mystery that was Keigo. And now he had you captured and the only feeling that was clear in the confusion was the heat thrumming from your core. 

“..No, I don’t want you to stop…” you admitted, falling further into the pit. 

His feathers bristled, audibly rustling before they settled once again. His shoulders dropped, as though tension had been released. 

“Good… cause I really didn’t want to.” 

He captured your mouth again, kissing you without restraint. His hands slipped beneath your thighs and suddenly you were lifted as he stood. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively. The rope binding you was slack yet you were still restrained, pushed up against the wall and trapped between it and the muscular body pressing your front. He took your arms and looped them around his neck, ensuring you were both trapped with each other.

“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” he growled as he bit your neck, sucking and bruising it, marking you as his.

“You’re not the only one who’s been spying little bird…” 

You wanted to respond, hell you would have if your head wasn’t swimming in lust as though it was the only thing that mattered. One arm was all he needed to hold you steady, while the other slipped between you and untied the belt to your gown. 

“Once I knew you were tailing me, I had to know more.”  

The robe fell open, exposing you completely to him. He took his sweet time, fingertips trailing a line between your breasts. 

“You’re a hardworking hero… throwing yourself at danger whenever you can…” 

Your mouth fell open in a needy mewl as he took hold of your breast and ran his thumb over your nipple. 

“Y-you… you were watching me?” you moaned. 

He closed his lips over the swollen bud, tongue circling and flicking and teasing. Your hips rolled against him and he groaned against your skin as you pressed against his painfully hard cock that was still trapped in his clothes. He released your nipple with a gentle bite. 

“A little… but it was enough.” 

He drifted lower, drawing a light pattern on your tummy, looping your hip bone before finally slipping between your wide open legs. He sucked his teeth as he gently slid a finger tip over your clit and down to your swollen, silken petals. 

“Fffffuck… you’re so wet for me little bird.” 

He growled at your ear, slowly toying with your slick flesh. You threw your head back and moaned without restraint, shifting your hips in an attempt for more much needed friction. 

“E-enough f-for what?” you managed to ask, lips trembling as you spoke. 

His hand stilled and he gave you a soft kiss before he plunged two of his long fingers inside you. 

“Enough for me to know I fucking wanted you…” 

You practically squealed, your soaking wet hole welcoming him with ease. He pressed upwards, curling his finger against that soft, spongy flesh he knew would drive you crazy. 

“Damn… this pussy feels good little bird, so fuckin’ tight…” 

He added a second finger and fucked you with them, pumping in and out of you vigorously. You barely noticed when he let you go with his other arm given how hard you were clinging to him. He unzipped his fly and popped the button, his belt jingling as he let it fall with the waistband of his pants. Your breath came in short, sharp gasps as you moved with his rhythm, desperate for more, needing to be filled. 

“Fuck! H-Hawks… please!” 

So ready for him it hurt, a tingling ache that could only be sated by him. He shoved his mouth against yours, muffling your desperate mewls. 

“You know what I’m waiting for baby… say it again for me, I need to hear it…”

He was just as breathless as you, his cheeks and ears tinged a bright pink. 

“Fuck me, Hawks… please? Oh god fuck me Hawks!” 

He cursed like a sailor, snarling as he grabbed your hips squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. 

“Good girl…” was all he could manage before fully sheathing himself within your tight entrance. 

He took a second to adjust, groaning against your neck as though he felt the same sense of relief that you did. Locked together, holding on tight as you could and your toes curled when he shifted his hips and finally started to thrust. 

“Oh fuck… little bird you feel better than I imagined… fuuuuck…” 

Your cries echoed throughout the warehouse. The huge space filled with the noise of your clashing flesh. He filled you so well, hitting every sensitive spot inside you and you could feel your core tighten with pleasure, building up to that explosive release you so desperately needed. 

“Yeah baby, keep makin’ those sounds… I fuckin’ live for them…” 

His hair was splayed in locks over his face and his forehead was shiny with sweat. He grit his teeth, face contorted with animalistic pleasure and you couldn’t help but think that he was more beautiful than ever. With your arms still clasped around his neck, you pulled him into a kiss, tongue hungrily invading his mouth as he continued to fuck you up against the wall. 

“K-Keigo… oh god…”

He grunted against you, pushing himself deeper inside. Your thighs trembled as they gripped his slim waist. 

“What is it little bird… you wanna cum for me?” 

His teeth raked along the shell of your ear, his voice vibrating against it. 

“Then start fucking begging…”

Your voice collapsed into a needy whine. His demands simultaneously frustrated and exhilarated you, enhancing every touch, every thrust of his hips and lick of his tongue. He owned you in this moment and god you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“P-please… Keigo please I need it!” 

Your eyes brimmed with unshed tears as the build slowed along with his pace. He filled you to the hilt, only to slowly retract, making you jerk your hips for more friction.

“Please make me cum… Please make me cum Keigo!” 

He groaned low in his chest, kissing your ear before he adjusted his position. 

“Ooohh that’s it, good girl… such a fucking good girl.” 

His arm slipped between you, his thumb gently pressing against that swollen pearl of nerves. He circled it, moving it in rhythm with his powerful trusts. Heat spread from your core, like flames licking at your skin. Your limbs were trembling as he pulled you to the brink, you couldn’t think and you could barely breathe as he fucked you closer and closer to that freeing release you were both craving. 

“Fuck little bird… fuck I’m gonna…” 

You cried out his name, morals thoroughly abandoned as you thanked him for every touch, every thrust he gave to you. Darkness teased at the corners of your vision, threatening to pull you under as waves of white, hot pleasure rocked through your body. Your grip around him tightened, as did his around you and he continued to fuck you hard through your climax. It didn’t take much for him to reach his own, mouth hanging open as he moaned your name, painting the walls of your cunt with thick, streams of cum. His forearm crashed against the wall, ensuring he didn’t crush you when he slumped forward, his forehead resting gently against yours as you both panted for air. He let loose a breathy chuckle as he carefully pulled himself out. 

“That did it for you huh? You wanted to get nasty and fuck a Villain?” he breathed, unhooking your tired arms from around his neck. 

Carefully he lowered your legs, allowing you to stand with his assistance. 

“No… just you.” 

Your answer seemed to catch him off guard. Arrogance drained from his features and was replaced by a genuine, almost shy smile. Using the wall for support, you wrapped yourself back up in the robe. But still your legs were bare and your feet were pressed against a relentlessly cold floor, sending an unwelcome shiver up your spine. Hawks’ mouth pressed into a tight line as he buckled himself back up again. 

“Come here little bird…” 

This time you took his hand, letting him turn you around and hold you from behind. His wings spread, wrapping around the both of you in a welcomingly soft cocoon. You hummed as you felt their warmth, snuggling a little closer in his arms. 

“You know… the Heroes Association sent you as bait.” he began, his mouth moving against your scalp. 

“They got no proof I’ve done anything wrong, not yet. So they sent a naive little hero after me… hoping I would be pushed into doing something desperate to cover my tracks…” 

You turned your head, catching his tired eyes with yours. 

“Are you doing something wrong Hawks?” 

The wings around you shivered and a breeze of air ruffled your hair as he sighed above you.

“There’s… there’s something I have to do and… the Villains can help me do that.” 

His hands seemed to tense up against you as he waited for your response. 

“And the heroes can’t?” 

His hands met your waist and he turned you to face him, keeping his wings in place. 

“The heroes are the problem little bird.”

His knuckles grazed your cheekbone and for once you saw no trace of that trademark confidence in his face.

“I’m tired of those untouchable bastards pulling the strings and watching us puppets dance.”

Something about him was so sincere, so vulnerable that you couldn’t find it in yourself to call him a liar. There had been rumors and whisperings since you started getting scouted, corruption at the top of the chain. Maybe that’s what he was referring to. 

“Then… does that mean you won’t accept help from a hero anymore?” 

He huffed a stifled laugh, kissing you softly on your nose. 

“That depends on the hero. Maybe I could be persuaded…”

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Thin Line

Summary: You’re wild and free. She’s strict and trained. You and Natasha are polar opposites and it drives her crazy. Each move you make annoys her to no end. But, there’s a thin line between annoyance and adoration.

Rating: 18+ Violence, Mentions of Death, and Smut

Chapter 4

Natasha Romanoff is a cuddler. Yes the bad ass, red head, assassin likes to cuddle. 

You didn’t know it at first, and honestly you didn’t think she’d want to do it, but you soon found out how wrong you were. 

It took you by surprise. Both you and Natasha had packed your things up and loaded on to the Quinjet, since Fury was asking for you to come back. You had helped her check over everything and sweep the jet for any tampering, before settling into a seat in the back.

You, thinking Natasha was going to fly, dove into your thoughts. Which of course revolved around the enticing woman. 

There was this feeling swarming through you. It nagged at you to figure out what’s going on between you and Natasha and you hated it. Just when things had started to get better, with her no longer hating you, your feelings begged to be acknowledged. 

Why? Why couldn’t you just be satisfied with kissing her and whatever else comes with it? Why did you feel the need to define it?

It was with that thought that she chose to come over. After turning on autopilot, she eased into the seat beside you and pulled your arms around her, relaxing back into your body.

You were frozen for a good minute, until her lips pressed against your hand. The whole interaction gave you butterflies. Butterflies that you still feel along with a bit of anxiousness as F.R.I.D.A.Y tells you you’re a half hour away from the compound. 

“Is there a reason your heart is beating so fast?” Natasha asks, voice barely above a whisper.

The breath you take in is shaky,“ I’m just uh- well- we’re not telling the team about any of this, right? Or do we like, need to disclose or something?”

“Y/N,” she shifts to face you but makes sure your hands stay on her,“ we don’t need to disclose anything. Just try not to freak out over any of this okay?” 

A frown marks your face,“ so it is obvious I’m freaking out. I’m sorry about that, by the way, I’m sure the last thing you want is me over thinking whatever this is.”

“Why would that be the last thing I want?” She narrows her eyes at you.

Her question has you stumbling over simple words, mashing syllables together to form some type of coherent statement.

“If you don’t say something I can understand I’m going to be forced to use extreme measures.” She half teases.

You chuckle and shake your head.

“Now answer the question.”

“I just don’t want to make this awkward by asking what all this means or what we are. There’s no reason to rush and label it but my brain isn’t exactly on board with that idea.”

She pulls a smile, a small one, but still a smile,“ just relax. If we ever get to a point where the team needs to know, they’ll know. And I agree that we should take things slow. I’ve never done this before so I’d rather not-”

“I get it.” You smile back,“ consider this topic tabled until further notice.”

“Okay.” 

“Still,” you turn her so she’s back in your arms and rest your chin on her shoulder,“ I know it’s gonna be hard for you when we get back. Keeping this from the team means you can’t be all over me like you love.”

Natasha is quick to look back at you as if you’d grown another head,“ me? You’re the problem.”

“Sure, whatever helps you-”

Not wanting to hear your cocky little remarks, Natasha kisses you, and then pulls away to go pilot the jet.

“That’s exactly what I mean, you find me irresistible.”

“Shut up Y/L/N.”

The second the jet lands you’re snatching up your bag and exiting.

Green eyes follow your every move and Natasha’s heart clenches. 

Could you really not wait to get away from her? Had everything you’d done on the mission simply because Fury told you to play nice?

Only for your face to pop back around the corner,“ you coming pretty girl?” 

Meanwhile, the guys wait anxiously in the common room. Having heard the jet land they prepare themselves for the bickering they’re about to hear, that or only one of you walking through that door(their money being on Natasha).

Except there isn’t any bickering when you and Natasha step out of the elevators, there isn’t even a frown. You’re smiling as you speak to the assassin and she’s maintaining her usual stoic expression.

“Uh, hey.” Clint says, grabbing your attention,“ how was the mission?”

Raising an eyebrow at Natasha, you chuckle, and turn to the guys,“ it was a success obviously, basically guaranteed when Fury assigned me.”

This earns a chuckle from the guys and agreeing cocky remarks from Tony and Sam. 

Natasha rolls her eyes,“ you’re all incorrigible. Where’s Wanda?” 

All the guys mumble a different answer which earns a skeptical gaze from Natasha.

“Yeah, way to sell it guys.” You pull a thumbs up with a sarcastic smile.

Before any of the guys can reply Wanda does.

“Natasha, you’re back.” She steps out of the kitchen.

“Ha I was right!” Sam exclaims.

You roll your eyes, instead focusing on the girls.

Natasha gestures to you,“ I doubt you two have met yet, Wanda this is Y/N our newest teammate, Y/N this is Wanda.”

Despite her being here all the time this was in fact the first time you’ve actually met Wanda. You’ve seen her around but neither of you have ever spoken. Mainly because she kept to herself but also because she was with Natasha a lot, the woman who previously disliked you. 

However, you’re glad to meet her and you tell her that, which almost makes her smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too Y/N.” Wanda nods, her Sokovian accent lacing each word.

“So Wanda, how’re you getting on here? The guys drive you nuts while we were gone?” You make conversation as Natasha goes over to Clint after his not so subtle gestures. 

The brunette shrugs,“ they’re not all intolerable.”

You follow the flicker of her gaze to Vision the very quiet and observant humanoid. Had she not looked at him you wouldn’t have even known he was here. 

You smirk,“ you two talk often?” You make sure not to ask loudly so as to not alert anyone to the Sokovian’s possible crush.

Her eyes widen in the slightest as she looks at you, but she still answers,“ no. But we’re both busy so-”

“Yo Vision!” You call to him, and he wastes no time coming over.

“Agent Y/L/N, Miss Maximoff.” He nods to the both of you.

Wanda blushes at his presence alone, murmuring,“ I told you to call me Wanda.”

Smiling softly you place a hand on his shoulder,“ we were just talking about team movie night tonight and Wanda was saying how she could use some help preparing snacks and stuff but I’ll be busy in debrief, those guys are incompetent, which makes you the perfect candidate to aid the gorgeous Chef Maximoff.”

Vision’s attraction is instantly noticeable as the android stammers over his words, struggling to put together a proper sentence.

“So we’re all in agreement,” you put gentle hands on their shoulders and walk them to the kitchen,“ menu doesn’t matter just don’t forget popcorn. Perfect, Vision stick close to that one.” You wink at Wanda and leave quickly.

You step over to Clint and Natasha,“ hate to interrupt best friend time but Romanoff and I have a mission to wrap up. Don’t fret we’ll be available for movies in a couple hours.”

With that you gesture to Natasha to follow you. 

It’s not until you’re both down the hall that she raises a brow at you,“ what, pray tell, needs to be finished with the mission? Also what was that with Wanda and Vision?”

“Questions, questions, questions.” You tease.

Taking you completely by surprise, she pushes you against the wall. Her hands trapped you in but she didn’t touch your body at all, still you feel the heat radiating off her.

You raise an eyebrow,“ now what did we say about self control?”

“Why is it that you don’t answer questions, Y/L/N?” Her eyebrow quirks as well.

“Why is it that you ask so many questions, Romanoff?”  

Silence settles as you both stare into each others eyes. Her gaze is inquisitive, one that she holds a lot with you.

The gap between you two close without you even noticing. Natasha’s breath fans your lips and that alone makes you lean in to kiss her. She smirks, cocky that you’re the one not able to control yourself.

“I win.” She whispers.

You grab her shoulders, spurned on by her words, and switch positions. She can’t suppress the moan that leaves her lips when her back hits the wall, and she wraps her arms around your neck. 

Hands grip her hips as you deepen the kiss with a bite to her bottom lip. And she gasps giving the perfect opportunity to slip your tongue into her mouth. That alone has her hands roaming your body feverishly and it just feeds your need for her. And it makes you feel oh so cocky.

Cocky enough to run your fingers under her shirt, hooking your fingers into the waistline of her pants to pull her closer. You place a trail of kisses from her lips to her neck.

“Y/N,” she breathes against the shell of your ear making you shiver and pull away just as she’s dying for it to continue. 

She chases after your lips, nearly pushing off the wall to capture them again.

“Eager much?” You joke breathlessly.

Her hand grips your neck,“ I don’t like to be teased Y/L/N.”

“That’s just too bad Romanoff.”

You leave her there with a smirk on your face, feeling her gaze until you turn the corner.

*****

To your surprise you don’t see Natasha again after that for a while.

After you left her in the hallway, desperate and aroused, you expected her to follow after you but she didn’t. So, you took your things to your room and put them away. It was nice to have a bit of a breather after everything that’s happened the past week. 

You were able to shut your eyes for a half hour before you got too antsy to sit still. Which resulted in you going to the gym until your body was dripping sweat and your breathing was ragged. 

It’s Steve who comes looking for you, informing you that Wanda and Vision are finished cooking and that everyone’s deciding on a movie.

“Alright, be there in a minute.” You nod to him, leaving the gym beside him, and heading to your room.

One shower and a clean set of clothes later, your stepping into the kitchen. You take a deep breath in, inhaling the delicious smell of the food Vision and Wanda made.

“Well damn, it smells great in here, you two are a dream team.” You compliment, eyes traveling over the blushing Witch and the bashful android, to land on an expressionless Red Head Assassin.

Vision speaks,“ thank you Agent Y/L/N, I thoroughly enjoyed cooking with Miss Maximoff.”

“I bet.” You nod, still looking at Natasha.

She was looking at you as well but unlike usual you can’t read her hidden expression.

“This movie is gonna start with our without you guys!” Tony calls. 

Chuckling, you assist Vision, Wanda, and Natasha with bringing the food into the common room. 

Apparently Tony’s movie suggestion, Hunger Games, won. You all know he chose it just to pick at Clint throughout the movie. 

Seats fill up quickly and the remaining one is beside, lucky you, Natasha. 

Giving her a smirk, plop into the seat beside her. As the movie starts, you discreetly snuggle closer to Natasha’s side, earning narrowed eyes from her.

You lean down to whisper in her ear,“ awe, don’t tell me you’re mad at me Pretty Girl.”

She runs her tongue along the inside of her jaw, thoughts running a mile a minute.

Of course she ins’t mad at you. Well, maybe a little. More than that, she’s so incredibly frustrated. You kissed her the way you did, put your hands on her skin setting her alight, and then you left her there. 

She’s still frustrated, sitting next to you with her thighs clenched together searching for friction. She can’t say she did everything to get rid of the feeling because she really wanted you to take care of her needs, but she didn’t want to freak you out by moving too fast. 

Especially after that moment in the jet. 

Reading you was easy, sometimes, so she picked up on what was running through your head before you said anything. 

Labeling it was something she thought about but let’s face it, that would be a bit much so soon. She’d just realized she likes you only to kiss you seconds after that. If anything she was freaking out over it moving too fast. She’s never felt like this before and to feel this way so fast, she’s sure she’s losing it. 

You clearing your throat pulls her from her thoughts. 

She hadn’t realized how long she’d left you waiting for her response. 

“Uh, anyone want a refill?” You ask, standing and glancing around.

Getting no response, you nod, and go into the kitchen. 

Natasha waits a beat before grabbing her cup and following after.

“Y/N-”

She watches you lean on the counter,“ I’m sorry if I overstepped earlier. I really should’ve controlled myself better. I don’t know, the way you reacted I thought you liked it but I sh-”

“Y/N stop, god stop. You didn’t overstep at all. If anything you under-stepped.”

Your eyebrows shoot up,“ huh?”

Natasha sets her cup down and rounds the counter to you. She grabs your hips and rests her forehead against your chest.

“I’m not and was not mad at you. Just so incredibly frustrated. The way you touched me, I-”

Just like that you were smirking again. With a quick irrational thought, you hoist her up on the counter and attach your lips to hers. 

It’s as if the kiss from earlier had never stopped. Your hands are on each other adamantly, touching everything possible, except her hands linger on your arms and neck as that’s where your skin is exposed. 

“You know,” you breathe against her neck,“ you could’ve just found me. I wouldn’t have hesitated to take care of you pretty girl.”

She moans at your words alone. Her legs are wrapped around your waist and in her attempt to squeeze her thighs together she ends up pulling you closer.

“Then take care of me.” She bites your ear. 

And that makes you moan and kiss her again.

“Now this,” you two snap apart at the sound of Tony’s voice,“ does not look like your refilling drinks.”

Your eyes widen.

Natasha over comes her surprise quickly,“ Stark, you keep your mouth shut about this, understand.”

She leaves no room for argument and Tony chuckles.

“Don’t worry, I happen to like being the only person who knows things. Just don’t have sex on my counters yeah.” With that he walks out, leaving you alone again.

For a moment you two stay quiet, before you’re laughing and shaking your head. 

“Well if that isn’t a sign I don’t know what is.”

She quirks an eyebrow at you,“ a sign that what?”

“That next time we should be in a more private area.”

Pink dusts her cheeks and she places a kiss on your lips,“ I’ll hold you to that.” 

*****

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[ceoofuwu]

𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐒 ;; 𝘮𝘪𝘺𝘢 𝘢𝘵𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘶 𝘹 𝘧.𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟐.𝟏𝐤

𝐀/𝐍: so, this is the first Atsumu scenario! I'd literally give up my life for this man, I CAN'T HOLD BACK. Tho it turned out quite dark... I guess I made amends for it with the happy note in the end, then?

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: living with the Miya twins definitely means throwing party every once in a while and painting the town red... but what if, just once, things spiral out of control?

𝐓.𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ content ahead; mentions of sexual intercourse, unwanted/non-planned pregnancy, cursing. Suggestive themes.

Another wave of nausea washed over your body, making your guts twist with the unpleasant feeling of food hastily gushing out of your body.

You arrested your head further buried in the toilet, hands clutched tightly around the sides, mind flooding with hazy memories of last night’s events, as a stamp of warmth came in contact with your back.

  Sloppy, heated kisses along the sensitive area of your neck were sending shivers through your entire body, which was being ravished by pleasure.

«Come on, baby…» he whispered against your ear, your lobe caught between his teeth, «I’ll be gentle».

  Atsumu rubbed soothing circles on the broad surface of your back, crouched beside your weakened figure, the warmness of his palm eager to drive your fatigue away.

You had been sharing a home with him and his brother for quite some time now, the latter merely staying to keep you company and lend a hand with the loan. Showered with independence as you were, throwing parties every now and then was only natural. However, it wasn’t always completely kept under control.

«Drank too much, didn’t you?» he asked softly, worryingly, while his hand came to gently wipe your mouth with a small-sized towel he had fetched.

«I doubt I drank as much as you did, Tsumu…» you sighed, «… but I still don’t think that’s the proble—« your statement was cut off by your body pushing up another round of fluids.

   Your back arched at the intolerable amount of rapture that was shaking your entire being, «M-more…! Atsumu…!»

«More?» he smirked, looking at you with devilish eyes then throwing your legs over his broad shoulders and thrusting even more forcefully this time, his bare cock hitting spots in depths it had never been before.

   He remained silent the whole time, standing by your side, lightly pulling your hair back and continuing to soothe you with his rubbing patterns, his heart aching at the sight of your body completely cleaning itself out, leaving you fully worn out in its wake.

You lifted yourself slowly, making sure there was no other round coming then snatched the towel out of Atsumu’s hands hastily and wiped the stains of puke clean.

«You were saying…?» he asked, his eyes carefully following your movements to the sink, where you rinsed your mouth out.

«I don’t think it’s only drinking that got me like this…»

«What do you mean?»

«You weren’t particularly cautious last night…»

   You were a complete and utter mess by now; body coated in sweat, quaking with overwhelming ecstasy, burning with the need for more friction, for the touch of your lover, who was mercilessly pounding in and out of you, gaining momentum with every push.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, meaning he was close to his peak, so you were already preparing for the pull out but, with a loud, lengthy groan against your clavicle, you only felt a new-found kind of warmth spreading inside of you instead.

«You feel so damn good baby…» he croaked, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breaths tickling the sensitive area, while he was gradually climbing down from his high.

What with all those surges of bliss washing over you and the influence of alcohol you were under, you didn’t care as much as to realize the severity of what had just happened.

  «You don’t mean…» his voice trailed off, amber eyes widening with surprising realization.

The grave shadow cast upon his face was gone with a mere shrug of his shoulders.

«I do. There’s a high chance, Atsumu».

«I guess we’ll have a little brat crawling around the house in a few months then» he chuckled.

This was one of the few times in your life when you actually couldn’t believe in your ears. He couldn’t be talking seriously. He was deadpanning. Could he be that childish?

«Are you even in your right mind?! Do you happen to have even the slightest idea how serious this is?! What responsibilities it requires?!» you shouted, taking aggressive steps towards him, «How are we supposed to raise a child when you can barely fend for ourselves?» your index daringly poked his chest, look glowing with fury, «What makes you think I’d even want a child growing inside of me, huh?» you spurted out, words dripping with the bitter truth.

«We’re not even 100% sure you’re pregnant» he replied calmly, not allowing the burden of guilt weigh down on him.

«So you’re just going to hang onto a possibility? Is this your way of self-defense?» your tone stayed high on decibels, continuously shooting the blonde with arrows of qualm, but triggering his anger simultaneously.

His thick eyebrows came to a frown, a dark hue of irritation cloaking his face, blood boiling with rage. Deep down, he was well aware of the fact that he had been careless and therefore brought by this outcome, but at the same time he wanted to explode. All this unwavering accusation made him see red; and he didn’t particularly excel at his keeping his temper in check.

He didn’t care about neither your reaction nor the impact his words would have on your already heated argument because he honestly needed anything to fire back, when he spat out:

«It’s not my fault you can’t control what’s going in and out of your cunt».

SLAP!

Your palm clashed with the tender skin of his cheek, the sound of skin finding skin echoing in the empty room. At that point, you genuinely believed that there was no other way to back fire him; he had completely crushed your defenses with that mere line of his. Your heart was shattered to thousand pieces, like a fragile piece of glass thrown madly at the floor.

However, you still had some remaining strength for a finishing blow.

«I should have seen this coming. You always run away from your responsibilities, like the immature toddler you are. You don’t give a fuck about other people’s feelings, do you? All you care about is to feed and satisfy your own, insatiable ego!» you yelled, coming to realize that there are actual tears streaming down your face, but not minding at all the reason for their appearance, «…because that’s just what you are, Atsumu. An immature, egotistical pig».

His almond-shaped eyes widened in shock his body aching with the sensation of something having pierced through his chest. He wanted to yell, curse, break—no, destroy something. His madness was getting the better of him but even so, he somehow stopped dead on his tracks upon hearing that cruel utterance. His stare travelled on your form, inspecting your exhausted state, pity feeling him to the brim. Was this really what you thought of him? Was he truly the one that had you messed up like this?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sudden opening of the bathroom’s door. His twin brother walked in, wearing an expression of confusion and worry as his grey orbs fell on you.

«I can hear you screaming from the living room… is everything… o… kay? Why are you—« his gaze immediately pinned his brother, «--why is she crying?» he demanded.

Atsumu lowered his head in shame, glancing down at his feet, desperately struggling to avoid his brother’s uncomfortably scrutinizing look. One the one hand he had no clue how he was supposed to explain the situation, but on the other, he couldn’t exactly step back from it.

«Ιt’s… none of your business…» he murmured.

«I don’t think he heard you, Atsumu.           Speak up a little. Tell him how your stupid, little ass fucked everything up again».

«What is she talking about, Tsumu?» Osamu’s facial expression was died in puzzlement, «Talk!»

«…you might become an uncle» he muttered reluctantly between gritted teeth.

«What?!» his look hopped between the two of you impatiently, not landing on anyone in particular.

Of course he was taken aback. How could he not be? Atsumu can be reckless from time to time yet, that seemed too surrealistic even for a person that knew him so well.

You were quite lost in your own concerns, which prevented you from noticing that Osamu had hastily and offensively grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, shaking him furiously.

«I always knew you were a stupid and annoying brother but I was hoping you’d be at least tolerable as a boyfriend!» he shouted in the other twin’s face, knuckles whitening at the tightness of his grip.

You’d usually laugh your heart out whenever the twins were fighting but this time the ambiance was too intense to allow even the slightest curl in your lips.

«We don’t even know if she’s accurately pregnant, you asshole! She hasn’t had a fucking test yet!» Atsumu roared back in exasperation.

Osamu’s features were completely painted with a mixture of bewilderment and realization, «She hasn’t?» his peek drifted to you and you shook your head in the negative.

«Well then…» he let go of his brother with a push, «…I’ll be back» he spoke, turning to leave the room.

«Where the hell are you going?»

«Where you should have gone from the beginning».

Thanks to Osamu, a light smile made its way to your lips. However, it was swiftly taken away by Atsumu’s murderous, disgusted glare. You answered to it with an identical one, not wanting to show him how much your heart was practically broken by that moment.

When he finally walked out of the bathroom, you made sure to lock the door he had harshly slammed behind him, before your body automatically slid against it, eventually collapsing on the floor

«Ugh, why does it take so freaking long?» you whined silently above the pregnancy test.

Before you knew it, your already pallid face was stained with tears once more, your hands rushing to cover your mouth and muffle your perpetual sobs as you succumbed entirely to the pain that was nested in your chest, waves of dejection, wrath and numbness hitting you relentlessly and unstoppably, letting you solely rot into the melancholy of anticipation….

Thankfully, Osamu had came back mere minutes ago with five tests in his hands, all of them produced by the same company. You explained that there was no need for so many, but seemed like Samu had quite freaked out so he couldn’t help himself. You had hastily snatched the tests and run off to the bathroom again, not paying to attention to what Atsumu was doing.

You would deal with him later, either way.

«Don’t be positive, don’t be positive…»

For about ten minutes straight, you were running conspiracies in your mind, attempting to calculate every possible outcome. If Atsumu was indeed the father of your child, then that… made also Osamu a dad? They’re literally the split image of each other so be it biological or adoptive father would practically make no difference. Which meant that if Osamu had kids—

«Are you… alright in here?» the door opened ajar and a familiar head slightly, almost timidly, protruded.

«Oh, now big, scary Atsumu isn’t mad?» you jibed.

Atsumu slid in, gently closing the door behind him and heading towards you.

«Look, I…» his eyes moved to the floor, afraid to encounter yours, «…I didn’t mean what I said… really, I uh…» you failed to suppress a light giggle at his miserable attempt to swallow his pride, «…I’m sorry, okay? Stop mocking me! And I’ll take care of our child…! If we have one, I mean…» you glanced at the test one more time to see if anything had changed and your eyes widened in surprise.

«Atsumu».

«…and I’ll do anything, I’ll cook even without setting the kitchen on fire I—«

«Atsumu!»

“Just don’t be mad at me okay? I’ll even change the baby—«

«ATSUMU!» you yelled, also making awkward hand signals that made no sense to earn his attention.

«What?»

«You won’t have to change any baby! Nor take care of it!»

He lifted his eyebrow in confusion, «We are getting a babysitter?»

«There’s no baby you idiot! I’m not pregnant! I’m not---« a silent sob cut off your sentence.

«Hey, wait, why are you crying?» Atsumu’s hand rested on your flushed cheek, his thumb swiping away a tear that came unbidden on your beautiful face.

«I don’t… know…» you spoke weakly and then immediately dived in his arms, clutching him to the point of asphyxia and probably clawing his back, while burying your wet face on his chest, where you were bawling your eyes out.

«It’s over now baby…» he whispered, planting a soft kiss on the crown of your head and rubbing soothing patterns on your back, «…take it all out».

Deep down, there was still a lingering ray of hope praying that you had actually that unbidden seed inside of you… it wouldn’t be catastrophic…

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