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stellar-skyy · 1 year ago

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FAMILY (OF SORTS) — Platonic Fatui Harbingers & reader.

i. SUMMARY: The Fatui Harbingers have a soft spot for Arlecchino's child. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: None! iii. NOTES: STRICTLY PLATONIC, headcanons, fluff, parent!arlecchino, house of the hearth!reader, all of the harbingers are reader's weird aunts and uncles, gn!reader, they/them pronouns used, 1.6k words. iv. A/N: the fatui are just a dysfunctional found family and i will die on this hill. shoutout to @romaritimeharbor for listening to my rambles about this idea 🫶🫶 also pierro and pulcinella aren't here because i could not think of anything to write for them :')

All of the harbingers knew about Arlecchino’s child; the one that appeared in Fatui Headquarters stuck to her side, eyes cast to the floor. They all saw the way that Arlecchino had held a soft grip on their shoulder, guiding them through the halls with the gentle touch of a parent from the gentle hands of a monster.

The Knave always swore she didn’t play favourites, but from an outside view it was clear that they held a special place separate from the rest. Anyone could see the way they appeared so much more frequently by her side. They were permitted to sit in on meetings, following her like a shadow. Some of the Harbingers guessed that she had picked them to be her successor; that their frequent shadowing was training them to take over once she was gone. Others joked about Arlecchino’s apparent soft side taking over. Whatever the reason, time went on, and the Fatui saw more and more of them.

All of them varied in their opinions of them—some indifferent, some fond—but the Harbingers all cared for them in their own ways.

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Columbina simply adores them. They’re just so small and cute, so tiny and fragile! Admittedly, her idea of ‘tiny’ is rather skewed—applying to anyone she deems weaker than her (notably, this label also gets given to Capitano and Tartaglia, despite their larger size and physical strength. The Damselette is truly an enigma.)

Whenever Arlecchino allows her to watch over them, she is delighted. She has a penchant for pet names, so ‘angel’, ‘my sweet’, and ‘lovely’ are all more commonly used than their name. Sometimes there’s a ‘baby’ or ‘bub’ if she’s feeling particularly affectionate, but no matter the name, it is always dripping with sweetness. She’ll sing to them too, to calm them down or get them to sleep. Her voice is gentle, laced with as much love as she would show her own child.

Some Fatui believe Columbina is a woman formed from hollow sweetness; that behind the lazy smile and soft voice, lies a callous and unfeeling heart, but her insistence on singing them to sleep comes from a place of genuine affection.

When they have to return home, she’ll kiss their cheeks and sweep them into a hug, making them promise to visit her soon.

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The fact that Arlecchino would tear out his throat with her bare hands if he dared to look at them the wrong way is the only thing stopping Dottore from roping [Name] into one of his experiments. Even then, he can’t help but investigate them a bit. Nothing extreme—please put the knife down, Knave—just some simple trials to see how they work. A quick strength assessment, a test of their reflexes, enough to judge the effectiveness of the House of the Hearth’s training.

The segments all had different opinions of them, varying from Prime’s general indifference to some of the younger segments fondness towards them. The latter were less likely to try to trick them into the lab—not that Arlecchino would allow them anywhere near it without strict supervision—and instead focused their efforts on convincing them to help mess with the rest of the Dottores. They proved to be an excellent partner in crime to thoroughly ruin the older segment’s day.

Despite his assertion that he won’t harm them, Dottore tends to be the one Arlecchino trusts least around her child. His unwillingness to get on her bad side doesn’t stop her from insisting Columbina or herself accompany them whenever they visit his lab.

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Tartaglia loves them. The days he gets to see his siblings are few and far between, so he’s always eager to play the older brother for them, and for any other House of the Heath kids that stop by. In fact, whenever any of the children visit, he makes sure to buy them plenty of sugary treats and candies before quickly sending them back to their Father.

(Arlecchino was not happy the first time this happened. It didn’t stop him from doing it every time, though.)

He was the first to convince them to call him Uncle, a feat that he bragged about to the rest of the Harbingers. This small incident would inadvertently lead to a petty competition to see who their favourite is, an event that would quickly spiral out of control with bribery and promises coming from all sides.

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Sandrone is very particular with who she allows in her workshop. When the rare guest was allowed inside, they had to follow three simple rules: do not touch anything, do not move unless I tell you to, and do not talk to me while I work. When [Name] first stumbled into the room, she was prepared to discourteously shoo them out the way she did whenever Tartaglia poked his head in to see what she was working on. But after some extensive begging, she relented and sat them down in a corner to watch her work.

Even if she is far less fond of them as some of the other Harbingers, she still audibly squeaked the first time she was called Aunt Sandrone. This was covered up with a cough, but nothing could stop the warmth blooming in her chest. It was the first time a living creature had addressed her with such a familial title; some of her synthetic creations had a habit of calling her Mother, but this was a living, breathing person.

After they started calling her that, she quietly told them they were free to visit when she was working—provided they did not interfere with anything.

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As much as he denies it, Scaramouche has a big soft spot for kids. He’ll swear up and down that he doesn’t care for them at all, but he treats them noticeably gentler than he treats any other member of the Fatui. Arlecchino once caught them huddled against him, using his wide-brimmed hat to shelter from the rain. She never let him forget that moment—the fearsome Balladeer, who notoriously never let anyone close enough to touch him, allowing her child to use him as an umbrella.

They remind him a little too much of the young boy he once considered his family. Whenever he spends time with them, there is something inside that both urges him to protect them in the way he couldn’t protect that child, and warns keep them at arm’s length before they betray him too. But his endearment towards them prevailed, and he begrudgingly allowed them a place in his heart.

Unlike Columbina’s affectionate pet names, the only nicknames Scaramouche gives them are ‘kid’ and ‘brat’, depending on his mood. On good days, they might even get called by their name, though it is a rarity. He cares for them, truly. In his own, strange way.

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Capitano is the best at giving advice out of all the harbingers. He is much more down to earth than Columbina and Dottore, and far less cynical than Scaramouche and Sandrone. He’ll let them ramble about their frustrations freely before offering gentle suggestions on what they should do to help. Even if they aren’t looking for a solution, he’s patient enough to hear out their thoughts, however jumbled and incoherent they may be.

He also likes teaching them skills he deems important for a young person to know. These include cooking—Tartaglia is not allowed to join them in these lessons after he almost burnt down the kitchen trying to ‘help’—as well as sewing and mending clothes.

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Pantalone never would describe himself as parental. He never cared too much for kids; he hadn’t enough patience to deal with constantly crying babies or needy toddlers. Arlecchino’s child was thankfully far above that age, so they were less unbearable to deal with.

He was quite happy to spoil them with extravagant gifts and treats to win their favour, but the most effective way he does so is simply spending time with them. Trips to luxurious restaurants for lunch, allowing them to shadow him while he works. He also likes to give them advice—completely unasked for—about life, and relationships. Unlike Capitano however, his advice is of a much less helpful; he has a habit of advocating for blackmail for solving problems.

In exchange for a box of the most expensive pastries in Teyvat, he got them to call him their favourite uncle in front of Tartaglia. The miniscule dent in his funds was worth the look of betrayal on the younger Harbinger’s face.

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Signora easily took the longest to warm up to them. When she first met them, it was easy enough to label them as Arlecchino’s brat and move them from her mind. But they kept appearing, in and around the headquarters. At first they were always glued to the Knave’s side, but eventually Signora began to see them wandering alone through the halls. She took note of them—not out of any attachment to them, only out of self-preservation knowing that if Arlecchino found out her child landed themself into trouble while she was close by, it would be her funeral soon.

The sense of obligation faltered when she started to grow fond of them. They were irritatingly innocent, a rarity within the Fatui. Something about the spark in their eyes reminded her of when she was young—when she still had warmth in her heart and blood in her veins. For the first time in centuries, her frozen heart began to thaw with care towards another person, and begrudgingly, she began to accept that they were not as unpleasant as she once believed.

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jungkoode · 4 months ago

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死 KKANGPAE | #12 死

† breaking point †

"Eunchae stealing your sleeping spot was not in your bingo card for the camping trip, nor was it sleeping in Jeon's tent. And... everything that comes with it."

next | index | wc: 8.3k

↪︎author's note : I— LOOK. I knew this chapter was gonna be long because damn. I was so looking forward to writing their first ~encounter~ that I absolutely put my whole kikussy into it. BUT. UHM. 8k WORDS?? WITH MORE THAN HALF BEING SMUT?? (•Ỏ˳ⁱỏ••Ỏ˳ⁱ) Well. I went overboard. This definitely could've been two chapters, but then again it would make zero sense to divide the scene. ˢᵒ ʰᵉʳᵉ ʷᵉ ᵍᵒ ᴼⁿᵉ ᵃˢˢᵃˢˢⁱⁿᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ ˢᵗᵒʳʸ ᶜᵒᵐⁱⁿᵍ ᵘᵖ ⁱᶠ ᴵ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵈᵉᵃᵈ ˢᵒ ᵇᵃᵈ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ᵗᵒ. If this is your first time reading my smut, welcome to the thunderdome! If you're a returning customer, you know the drill. Either way, consider this my formal apology to my FBI agent who has definitely seen better days. Enjoy the treat, you thirsty catastrophes (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ And don't worry—there's MANY more to come! This is just the appetizer. The whole menu is extensive and frankly concerning.

The camp's finally quiet, just leaves rustling and the fire dying down somewhere in the distance.

Everyone's crashed after today's chaos—because apparently, throwing a bunch of criminals together in the woods is exactly as messy as it sounds.

You duck into your tent, already dreaming about passing out, only to find... well, shit.

Yunjin's fast asleep, which isn't surprising. What is surprising is Eunchae sprawled across her like some drunk octopus, taking up what was supposed to be your spot. Her arm's thrown over Yunjin's waist, leg tangled with hers, dead to the world and probably going to wake up with one hell of a hangover.

Great. Just perfect.

You stare at the scene, torn between laughing and groaning. It's kind of adorable, in a "my-drunk-friend-is-a-koala" way, but it also means you're shit out of luck for sleeping arrangements.

Waking Eunchae isn't really an option—she's out cold, breathing deep and steady in that way only truly hammered people can manage. Besides, Yunjin would probably give you that disappointed look if you disturbed them. She's got that whole protective big sister thing going on, even though technically you're all trained killers.

Fucking hell.

With a sigh that's probably a bit more dramatic than necessary, you grab a spare blanket from your bag and drape it over Eunchae's shoulder. They both look so peaceful, which is honestly weird considering what you all do for a living.

You turn and head back out, already dreading the crick in your neck you're going to have tomorrow. The fire's still going, barely, throwing off just enough warmth to make sitting out here slightly less miserable.

You're trying to soak up what's left of the heat when footsteps break the silence. You don't need to look up to know who it is—there's only one person who moves that quietly while still somehow managing to feel like an oncoming storm.

Jeon emerges from the darkness like he owns it, because of course he does. His eyes scan the scene, taking in everything from the empty chairs to your clearly displaced presence, and you just know he's cataloging every detail like the perfectionist asshole he is.

He raises an eyebrow, that infuriating half-smile playing on his lips. "Couldn't sleep?"

You shake your head, trying for casual and probably missing by a mile. "Eunchae's taken over my spot. She's passed out on top of Yunjin like some drunk koala."

"And here you are," he says, sounding frankly too amused, "playing the martyr by the fire."

"It's not about being a martyr," you snap, exhaustion making your voice sharper than intended. "Just didn't have the heart to wake her."

There's a couple beats of silence where he watches you with that intense look of his, like he's trying to see right through you. The cold night air nips at your skin, and you suppress a shiver.

Finally, Jeon sighs, his shoulders dropping just a fraction.

"Look, I've got a tent," he says, sounding like he's already regretting the words. "It's insulated. No sleeping bags, just blankets. You can crash there if you don't fancy freezing your ass off out here."

Your eyes narrow, trying to read between the lines of his offer. Sharing space with Jeon is dangerous—all that heat and tension and the constant dance of 'we shouldn't, but god do we want to.'

Fuck. This is a bad idea.

But it's cold, and you're tired, and the thought of a warm tent is more tempting than it has any right to be.

"You sure about this?" You eye him suspiciously. "Since when do you share anything?"

His lips twitch, and you catch that ghost of a smile he rarely lets slip.

"I don't," he admits, and god, his voice shouldn't sound that good at this hour. "But I'm not enough of an asshole to let you freeze. Besides," he adds, almost like an afterthought, "last time we shared a bed, I actually slept."

"Your tent, huh?" You can't help but push, because that's what you do. "What, you gonna play gentleman and sleep outside?"

He actually smirks at that, the moonlight catching on his lip ring.

"Not a chance." His eyes lock with yours, and fuck, there's that heat again. "We'll share. Got enough blankets."

The words hang between you like the smoke from the previous cigarette, still lingering and heavy with everything you're both pretending not to want.

You stand up, brushing dirt off your pants and trying to ignore how the dying fire isn't the only thing making you feel warm right now.

"Fine," you say, resigned. "But keep your hands to yourself. I'm just here because it's cold."

He laughs, low and rough, and you hate how it makes your stomach flip.

"Same here," he says, already turning toward his tent like he knows you'll follow.

And you do, because of course you do. You trail after him, telling yourself this is just about staying warm and not at all about the way his shoulder blades move under his shirt or how he smells like pine and wood and danger.

Such a fucking horrible idea.

But you're following him anyway.

The moment you step into Jeon's tent, you're hit with warmth. Not the cozy kind—more like the desperate kind that barely takes the edge off the cold trying to burrow into your bones.

The space is small, and fuck, it smells like him. Pine and mint and something darker that makes your head spin a little. It's not fair how his scent alone can make you feel like this, like you're unraveling at the seams.

He jerks his head toward the spot beside him—not an offer, an order. Typical. He's always like this, acting like everything he does should just be accepted without question.

You stand there longer than necessary, watching as he turns onto his side, showing you his back.

Drawing a line.

Because that's Jeon for you—edges and boundaries, even when he's pretending to be nice.

When you finally lie down, you move like you're defusing a bomb. The tent feels too small suddenly, the fabric ceiling pressing down like it's trying to suffocate you both.

Your heart's going crazy, and it's stupid. He's just lying there, being his usual brooding self. But you can feel him, like some kind of electric current running through the air between you.

"What about tomorrow?" Your whisper barely disturbs the darkness. "When everyone sees I wasn't in my tent? They'll put it together."

He stiffens—just slightly, but you catch it. Then he rolls over to face you, and Christ, the way he looks at you should be a crime.

"Then make sure you're gone by dawn," he says, voice hard as steel. "Get out before anyone's awake, and there'll be nothing to realize."

He's close enough that you can smell mint mixing with tobacco on his breath.

Huh. So he probably did chew gum after that cigarette.

"By dawn," you echo, matching his tone even though your pulse is doing gymnastics in your throat.

He stares at you for a moment longer, like he's trying to read something in your face. Whatever he's looking for, he either doesn't find it or doesn't trust himself to acknowledge it.

Then he's turning away again, another wall going up brick by brick.

The silence comes back heavier than before. You pull the blanket tighter, but it doesn't help. The cold seeps in anyway, settling deep in your bones.

Jeon's lying there like he's trying to turn himself to stone, fighting the same thing you're pretending not to feel. But it's there—even with his back to you, even with the frigid air between you.

And it's cold.

Motherfucking cold.

You're shivering so hard your teeth are chattering, and god, these blankets might as well be made of paper for all the good they're doing. Every muscle in your body is locked up tight, fighting against the cold that's trying to burrow straight into your bones.

You force a big inhale, summoning as much body heat as possible, and time does that weird thing where it stretches out forever, like cold molasses, each minute feeling like a small eternity.

The quietness that has settled over in Jeon's tent is only broken by the sound of your teeth doing their best impression of a woodpecker.

Then—warmth.

It happens so fast you almost miss it. One second you're freezing your ass off, the next Jeon's arm is wrapping around you, pulling you against him. The heat of his body hits you like a gush of hot AC hair, and suddenly your face feels like it's on fire for entirely different reasons.

"What the—" You start, but your mouth stutters because holy shit, he's close.

"Shh." His voice rumbles against the back of your neck, and you suppress a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. "I can't sleep with your teeth clacking together like you're trying to send a damn Morse code."

He's like a human furnace pressed against your back, all solid muscle and ridiculous body heat. You can feel every breath he takes, the slight brush of his legs against yours, and fuck, you sense every single point of contact between you.

Nevertheless, you try to swallow past the lump in your throat.

"Sorry, didn't realize I was being that loud."

Your hands hover awkwardly, because where the hell are you supposed to put them now?

"It's fine," he mutters, and you can practically hear him rolling his eyes. "Just keep it down. And try to warm up or whatever."

"I'm trying," you shoot back, but the words lack bite because his warmth is already seeping into you, melting away the cold that's been torturing you for the past hour.

Both in your body and your voice.

He doesn't say anything else, but his arm tightens around you just slightly. Like he's making sure you're actually getting warm. The tension starts bleeding out of your muscles, the shivering finally subsiding as his heat wraps around you like a cocoon.

Then, the tent falls quiet again, except for the intermittent sounds filtering in from outside and your synchronized breathing.

You're still a bit flustered—because of course you are—but grateful for the warmth. Who knew the ice king could actually be... decent?

Dangerous thought territory. Abort.

Now, about getting comfortable... That's a whole other battle.

You shift around, trying to find a position that doesn't make you feel like you're cuddling with a statue made of knives. Your elbow catches his ribs, your knee bumps his, and you're pretty sure you just elbowed him in the spleen.

You hear him sigh, and you already know what's coming.

"For fuck's sake, will you stay still?" Jeon's voice cuts through the darkness, irritated.

"I'm trying to get comfortable," you snap back. "Your gang tattoos aren't exactly memory foam, you know."

"Maybe if you'd stop wiggling like a damn worm on crack, you'd be settled by now." He adjusts his leg with an annoyed huff that you can feel against your neck.

"Maybe if you weren't built like a bag of knives, it wouldn't be so hard," you grumble, pushing back against him just to be petty.

His laugh is low and mocking, sending vibrations through your back. "Bag of knives? That's new."

"Don't laugh at me," you whine, hating how your body responds to that sound. "I'm cold, uncomfortable, and now I'm basically superglued to you."

"Superglued to me?" His hand finds your hip (probably to steady you), grip firm, and fuck—that shouldn't feel as good as it does. "You're the one who's been squirming like you're trying to start a fire."

"How am I supposed to relax when I'm sharing a blanket with a human cactus?"

But you try anyway, forcing your muscles to unwind even as every accidental touch between you feels like it's on fire.

"A human cactus that's keeping your ass from freezing," he mutters, voice rougher than before. "Now pick a position and stick with it before I lose my mind."

Too late for that, you think, trying to ignore how his hand is still on your hip, burning through your clothes like an inferno.

"This is torture," you grumble, squirming again as another rock tries to become one with your hip. "Pretty sure this ground is actually made of spite and broken dreams."

"For fuck's—will you stop moving?" Jeon's voice is strained, like he's counting backwards from ten in his head.

"I wouldn't have to if you weren't built like a weapon rack!" Your whisper comes out sharper than intended, but seriously, how is anyone this uncomfortable to cuddle with?

"Fine. Here—" He shifts suddenly, probably trying to help, but his elbow finds your ribs instead.

You wince. Because that shit hurt. Man's made of strength and muscles, so being the target of his attacks (even if it's an accidental elbowing) is not exactly pleasant.

"Jesus fuck, Jeon!" You swat at his arm, completely forgetting about staying quiet. "Are you trying to give me internal bleeding?"

"Me?" He swats back, definitely pissed now. "You're the one treating this like a goddamn dance floor."

"I wouldn't have to if you'd just—"

"Just what?" He cuts you off, and you can tell his jaw is clenching. "Just magically transform into your perfect little pillow?"

"That'd be a start," you snap, past caring how childish you sound. "Better than this human armory act you've got going."

"Un-fucking-believable." He mutters, but you absolutely hear him. "Try to do something nice for once..."

"Nice? Is that what we're calling attempted murder by elbow now?" You can't keep the bite out of your voice.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm calling it!" His grip tightens on your hip, and fuck—

That really shouldn't feel good. Like, at all.

"Well, your version of 'nice' feels a lot like getting squeezed by a python," you shoot back, trying to ignore his hand placement.

"Python? Thought I was a bag of knives." There's something different in his voice now, like he's fighting back a laugh.

"Clearly you're gifted like that." The words come out softer than intended, your own anger fading into something dangerously close to amusement.

You both fall quiet, your almost-laughter seeping into the night. You're still pressed against him, but somehow the tension has shifted into something... different.

Dangerous.

"Done with your interpretive dance yet?" His voice still has that amused edge to it, the one that makes you want to elbow him again. On purpose this time.

"Maybe." You draw out the word just to be annoying. "If your tent wasn't trying to become one with my spine."

"Good." He sounds relieved, but there's still some tension bleeding into his tone. "Now can we please try to sleep before we have to do this shit all over again?"

You let yourself settle against his chest, and for a moment—just one blessed moment—everything's still. Then your nose starts itching like a bitch, and when you twist to scratch it, your elbow finds his ribs. Again.

"Fuck—"He hisses through his teeth. "Are you serious? Do you have a personal vendetta against my ribcage or something?"

"It was an itch," you snap back, not even trying to sound sorry anymore. "I'm not a fucking robot."

"Could've fooled me with all these assassination attempts." His voice drips with sarcasm. "Just stop wiggling! Every time you move it's like you're starting a riot in here."

"Well, maybe if your arm wasn't crushing me—" You try to adjust his grip, which only makes everything worse.

"My arm wouldn't be dead if you'd stop moving your goddamn hips like you're at a concert," he growls, but he shifts anyway, trying to find a better position.

"You're the one who decided spooning was the solution here," you remind him, because you're physically incapable of shutting up apparently.

"Yeah, to stop you from freezing to death, not to participate in whatever wrestling match you're trying to start!" And now he's frustrated.

"Oh, I'm sorry—" No, you're not. "Did you forget people actually move when they sleep? Or is that not covered in Assassin School?"

"Jesus fucking Christ." He clicks his tongue.

He tries to forcefully pull away all of a sudden, but you're already sitting up, blankets pooling around your waist as irritation floods your system.

"What the actual hell is your prob—"

The words die in your throat.

Oh.

OH.

Because there, in the dim light filtering through the tent, is some pretty compelling evidence of exactly what Jeon's problem is.

Your eyes snap to the very obvious bulge straining against the blanket around his hips, and suddenly his pissy attitude makes a lot more sense.

Holy shit.

Your brain short-circuits for a moment because—fuck. This isn't the first time you've noticed him getting hard around you.

Once could be biology, sure.

But twice?

That's starting to look like a pattern.

The realization hits you like a truck: maybe this tension isn't as one-sided as you thought. Maybe all those loaded looks and charged moments actually mean something.

Your eyes meet his, and the air in the tent gets about ten degrees hotter. There's a challenge in his gaze, like he's daring you to say something.

"Got something to say now?" His voice comes out rough, almost angry, but not entirely.

Your mouth goes dry, but you've never been one to back down. Especially not when you've got the upper hand.

"Yeah, actually." You can't help the smirk that tugs at your lips. "You could've just said you wanted to cuddle."

His eyebrows shoot up, caught between amusement and annoyance. "Cuddle? I was trying to shut you up so I could sleep."

"A pretty damn hard way to shut someone up," you shoot back, and god, the way his jaw clenches at your terrible pun is almost worth the whole uncomfortable night.

Jeon's eyes narrow, and he shifts uncomfortably. The movement only draws your attention back to his... situation, which isn't helping your concentration at all.

"Yeah, well, you're not exactly helping matters with all that ass giggling," he growls, and fuck—why does he sound that good when he's irritated?

You watch as he holds himself completely still, like he's trying to turn into a statue—like every single muscle in his body is tense, restraint is rolling off him in waves.

He looks like he's fighting a war with himself, and maybe he's losing.

"So what, this is my fault now?" You scoff, crossing your arms. "I'm responsible for your dick's opinions?"

"I'm not blaming you for shit," he snaps, voice stretched thin. "Trust me, I'm very aware of my own fucking body."

"And what it wants?" The words slip out before you can stop them, somewhere between a taunt and genuine curiosity.

His nostrils flare—got him—and his jaw clenches so hard you worry for his teeth. He looks away for a second, like he needs to physically remove you from his sight to think straight. When his eyes find yours again, there's something dark and hungry and god maybe you've died a little.

"What it wants doesn't matter," he says, each word careful and measured. "We're here for a reason, and it's not to play house or indulge in—"

"In what, Jeon? Basic human needs?" You cut him off because apparently, you have a death wish. "Because last time I checked, we're still human. Unfortunately."

He lets out a sharp laugh that sounds more like frustration than humor.

"You think I don't know that? But unlike some people, I can control myself."

And yeah, that would be have been convincing if his eyes weren't burning holes into you, if his gaze didn't keep dropping to your lips every few seconds.

"Is that so?" You lean forward slightly, watching him squirm. "Because from where I'm sitting, you're about two seconds away from snapping that famous self-control of yours."

"Fuck you," he growls, but there's something else dancing around in his tone that makes you slightly bolder.

"Maybe you'd like to."

His breath catches.

The look in his eyes makes your throat close. Raw need flashes across his face for a split second before he locks it down, trying his best to pull that cold enforcer mask back on.

"Don't push me." He says and it's rough, like it's supposed to be a warning.

But you notice how his eyes keep darting away from your face, like he can't trust himself to look at you directly.

"I'm not pushing anything." You keep your voice steady despite your racing pulse. "I'm just not running away."

"You're playing with fire," he bites out, but his tongue flicks at his lip ring—that nervous tell of his that makes heat pool in your gut.

"Am I?" You tilt your head, watching him fidget with the silver hoop. "Sure looks like you're the one burning up here."

His hands clench into fists. He's fighting for control, you can see that.

"You know the rules. No attachments. That's how we survive. That's how we keep our heads."

You can't help but scoff.

"Attachments? Who said anything about catching feelings?" You shift slightly, watching his eyes snap back to you. "I'm talking about scratching an itch. One we both clearly have."

He licks his lips again, slower this time, metal ring catching the dim light. For a moment, expression morphs, and you see it—the same thing you're feeling, raw and desperate.

Desire.

Jeon's gaze hardens, but not in the way you'd expect it to. "Don't twist my words. You know exactly what I mean."

"Yeah, I do." You meet his stare head-on. "But sex is just sex, Jeon. We're not breaking any rules if there aren't any feelings involved."

Before he can build another wall between you, you move.

In one fluid motion, you're straddling him, and holy fuck—you're sure the body heat he's producing alone could keep up with an oven. And his cock—god his cock is hard against you and definitely happy to see you there.

"See?" Your voice comes out lower than intended, perhaps a tad wanting. "No attachments. Just two people who need to get off."

His eyes are almost black now, pupils blown wide. His hands hover over your thighs like he's fighting himself, torn between pushing you away and pulling you closer.

"You really think it's that simple?" The strain in his voice is delicious.

"I think," you breathe, leaning in until you can feel his exhale against your lips, "that we make our own rules. I want you, Jeon. And judging by what I'm feeling right now—" You shift slightly in his lap, drawing a sharp breath from him, "—you want me too."

His lips are close. Pine and wood and him fill your lungs, making you dizzy. You watch as his control frays at the edges, watch him wrestle with the rules he's built his life around.

"Fuck." The word tears from his throat like it hurts, rough and desperate.

"That's the idea," you murmur, and then you're closing that last inch between you, consequences be damned.

And God.

His lips are soft—way softer than you expected. That's your first coherent thought when Jeon finally, finally kisses you.

He starts slow. Careful. Like he's still fighting with himself even as his mouth moves against yours.

It's driving you insane. Because fuck, you've seen how he usually is—all storm and fury—but right now? He's taking his sweet fucking time.

You can taste the hesitation on his tongue when he licks at the seam of your lips. But it's pretend, you don't even question that, because you can feel his hunger as well. And you part your lips immediately—it's not like you to play coy, not when you've been wanting this for so long.

The first slide of his tongue against yours makes your chest tighten. There's something almost reverent in how he explores your mouth, like he's memorizing every detail. His lip ring clicks against your teeth and shit—that is just fucking hot, okay.

He tastes like cigarettes and mint—a combination that screams Jeon—that makes heat pool low in your belly.

His hands start wandering then, those big, calloused palms that you've caught yourself staring at during briefings. One traces up your spine, and even through your shirt, his touch makes you burn.

The other hand finds your neck, thumb pressed just under your jaw. Possessive. Demanding. Your pulse jumps against his fingers.

The kiss deepens, turns messy. Wet.

His tongue strokes against yours with purpose now, and Christ—the sounds you're both making are absolutely filthy. All slick slides and breathless little noises that make your cheeks flush.

You arch into him instinctively, wanting—needing—more. Because this? This careful exploration? It's not enough.

Not nearly enough.

You can't help the moan that slips out when his tongue slides against yours just right. It's embarrassingly needy, but fuck it—he's earned that reaction with the way he's kissing you.

"Keep it down," he murmurs against your mouth, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. "Unless you want an audience."

His thumb presses against your lips, calloused skin catching slightly. When you meet his eyes, his gaze darkens. The possibility of getting caught should probably worry you more than it turns you on, but... well. Here you are.

His hand traces down your spine like he's mapping every vertebra, and christ—who knew the guy who barely speaks two words could make you feel so much with just his fingertips? Each touch feels prepared, like he's conducting some kind of thorough investigation of what makes you squirm.

"Relax," he growls, low and rough in a way that does not help you relax at all. The vibration of his voice seems to travel straight between your legs. "I've got you."

That's kind of the problem, you think hazily as his other hand slides down to your hip with maddening slowness. Your breath hitches when his fingers slip under your crewneck, skin-on-skin contact sending electricity up your spine.

He takes his sweet fucking time inching the fabric up, like he's got all night to drive you insane. The contrast of his burning hands against your cooler skin makes you shiver. His thumb brushes just below your navel and fuck—you bite your lip to keep quiet.

You want to tell him to hurry up, to stop being such a tease, but there's something intoxicating about the way he's touching you—like he's savoring every inch. Like he's been thinking about this as much as you have.

"Is this..." His voice trails off, rough and uncertain.

You've never heard him sound like that before—like he's actually struggling for words.

"Is this what?"

You can barely get the words out. Hard to form coherent thoughts when his hand is burning a path up your ribs.

"Is this okay?" The question rumbles from his chest.

His eyes are fixed on where his hand disappears under your shirt, as if he's memorizing every inch.

"Yeah." You manage a small nod, not trusting your voice for more.

Fuck yes it's okay. It's been okay since the moment his mouth claimed yours.

Something in your answer must satisfy him because his hand slides higher, mapping your skin underneath with a precision that makes you shiver.

It's maddening how gentle he's being. You've seen those hands snap bones, seen them steady a rifle for impossible shots. Now they're ghosting over your skin like you're something precious, something that might shatter if he pushes too hard.

"Jeon." His name comes out embarrassingly breathy, halfway between a whine and a plea. "Keep going."

The bastard actually chuckles, the sound oscillating through you where you're pressed together. "Don't have to say it twice."

But he keeps that same torturous pace, each sweep of his thumb deliberately slow. Like he's got all night to take you apart piece by piece. Like he wants to drive you crazy.

You're starting to think he does.

His proximity is a heady thing and you could swear there's a storm raging behind his heartbeat.

You press closer, desperately seeking more contact.

More friction.

More anything.

But Jeon's self-control is nothing short of fucking legendary, it seems.

"Slow," he murmurs, eyes fixed on where his hand disappears beneath your shirt. "We take this slow."

You could fucking cry. His calloused fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, each touch light, teasing, and the contrast between his rough hands and gentle movements is driving you insane.

His other hand joins the first, sliding under your clothes with a confidence that borders on arrogance.

Yeah, he's smug; but you could swear there's something reverent in the way he touches you—and it's only because of that that you don't punch him.

Those dark eyes lock onto yours once more, asking a silent question.

A question he doesn't need to mutter.

You manage a quick nod, and he wastes no time pulling your crewneck and long sleeve over your head in one smooth motion.

But the universe hates you as much as you seem to hate yourself.

Because of course—of fucking course—you're wearing the most basic, practical bra imaginable. Why would you have worn anything sexy today? Not like you planned on Chief Jeon getting you half-naked in his tent.

His eyes rake over you, taking in every detail. When that infamous smirk tugs at his pierced lip, you already know he's about to be insufferable.

"Didn't dress up for me, huh?"

Heat floods your cheeks. You swat at his chest, torn between embarrassment and the urge to wipe that smug look off his face.

"Shut the fuck up, Jeon. Wasn't exactly expecting to get fucked today."

That deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, and fuck—it vibrates against you in a way it should be illegal.

But it's his eyes that get you—dark, hooded, pure filth swirling behind those orbs.

"You're acting like I care." He says as if you've told him a funny joke. "Trust me, I don't."

And his hands? Yeah, his hands haven't stopped their torturous exploration, mapping every inch of exposed skin like he's got a point to prove. Each brush of his callouses sends electricity down your spine. The bastard knows exactly what he's doing.

You want to hate him for that.

You don't.

His fingers trace your bra strap and he leans in close—so close you can feel his breath hot against your ear.

"Can I?"

Like he even needs to ask. Like you haven't been thinking about his hands on your bare skin since that first sparring session.

You manage a shaky nod, pulse thundering in your ears. One quick flick of his fingers and the piece comes undone. The clasp sounds obscenely loud in the quiet room.

The bra falls away and oh—the way he looks at you makes your core throb. His eyes rake over your exposed breasts in pure appreciation, hungry and possessive. You'd feel self-conscious if it wasn't so fucking hot.

When his hands finally—finally—cup your breasts, you can't help the gasp that escapes. His thumbs brush over your nipples and your back arches instinctively, pressing into his touch. His hands are so big they practically engulf you, rough and warm and perfect.

Then it's his breath. It fans hot against your neck and fuck—just the anticipation has you squirming. He hovers there, taking his sweet time, the bastard.

When his lips finally press against your throat, you have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

He presses a kiss. Then another. Then another.

Each one is slow, tongue flicking against your pulse point leisurely. Your head falls back automatically, giving him better access. Like he needs the invitation.

"Ah—"

"Shh." His voice vibrates against your skin, equal parts warning and amusement—and fuck his smirk.

His fingers are a fucking menace on your breasts, rolling your nipples between thumb and forefinger until they're almost painfully hard. And yeah okay, your pussy is literally throbbing at this point.

"You're so damn vocal," he grunts against your throat, punctuating the words with a sharp nip that makes you gasp.

You want to tell him to fuck off, but your brain's a blue screen as of right now. Your fingers find his hair instead, tangling in those dark strands just to have something to hold onto. To ground yourself while he systematically takes you apart with his mouth and hands.

But enough is enough.

So you shove at his chest, creating just enough space to think straight. His eyes widen for a split second before that infuriating shit-eating grin appears.

As if he knows exactly what you're thinking.

Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging impatiently. Off. Now. The fabric joins your discarded clothes somewhere on the floor (you're too busy staring at his chest to care where).

"Someone's eager." Voice pure sin, the jackass is clearly enjoying himself.

"If I'm half-naked, you better be too," you snap back, but the breathiness in your voice ruins any attempt at sounding annoyed. "Fair's fair."

He doesn't respond verbally, no.

Instead, he yanks you back against him and the feel of his bare skin against yours makes you want to keen. His hands grip your waist fiercely while yours explore the ridges of his abs, the hard planes of his chest. Each muscle twitches under your touch.

When his mouth claims yours again, it's different—hungrier, deeper. His tongue slides against yours in a way that makes your pulse quicken, and you can't help but press closer, fingers curling around his neck to pull him down.

And maybe sounds you're making should be embarrassing—all breathy sighs and desperate little whimpers. But with his hands burning paths across your skin and his tongue doing that, you can't bring yourself to care.

The tent feels like its own little universe, just you and Jeon and whatever the hell is going on between you right now (sex, probably). You grind down against his cock, the rough fabric of his cargo pants hitting you just right.

And he likes that, you can tell—because soon enough his hands grip your waist, guiding your movements with a precision that makes you want to eat him alive. Each roll of your hips presses you against his straining bulge, drawing embarrassingly needy sounds from your throat.

When you break the kiss to breathe, you can't help but stare. His lips are slick and swollen, that silver ring glinting in the dim light. His usually perfect hair is a mess from your fingers.

But he seems to like his battles well fought. So he bucks up against you. And fuck, you're growing impatient now.

"Where the fuck are the condoms?" you pant, desperation making your voice crack.

He actually has the audacity to chuckle, low and mocking.

"Didn't pack any," he shrugs, like he's commenting on the weather instead of ruining your life.

"What the fuck?" You stop moving, staring at him in disbelief. "Do you seriously expect me to ride you bareback?"

"No wanna?" His voice is so soft, almost childlike, like he's talking to a particularly bratty kid.

That is not hot. Why does he make it seem hot?

"What the fuck, Jeon!"

"What?" His lips twitch, and he has the nerve to look amused. "Wasn't planning on fucking either."

You roll your eyes, ignoring how his hands are still tracing maddening patterns on your skin.

"So you're just walking around with a loaded gun and no safety on?"

Another infuriating shrug. His thumbs slip under your waistband, teasing.

"Didn't plan on shooting."

His nonchalance is driving you insane—both with frustration and arousal. Especially when he's touching you like that.

"Literally, fuck you."

"I thought we agreed that would be a bit reckless right now?"

"Oh my god, Jeon." There's no hiding the frustration coloring your words. "We're surrounded by tents, which is bad enough, and now you're telling me we can't even fuck properly?"

His breath fans hot against your neck. "We can get creative."

The promise in those words makes your cunt throb, but you're not letting him win that easily.

"And leave us both desperate? Dream on, pretty boy."

He drags his lips over your collarbone and fuck—your hands clench in his hair just to stay upright, because can he stay in place when you're trying to tell him off?

"Hmm?" The smugness in his voice should be illegal. "But you were so needy a few seconds ago."

When he rolls his hips up, his cock grinding against you through his pants, you have to bite your lip to keep quiet.

Fucking, insufferable h̶o̶t̶ bastard.

"Pretty sure there's other ways to get each other off," he adds, and oh—the way he says it.

You try to respond but his mouth is already trailing up your neck, each kiss hotter than the last. His breath ghosts over your ear and you shiver, fighting the urge to tilt your head but doing so regardless. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling the muscles flex under your touch.

His hand keeps you pinned against his cock, the hard length of him pressing just right through his pants. His other hand teases at your waistband and you almost whimper.

Almost.

You lift your hips—an invitation that makes his eyes glint wickedly. He tugs your leggings down roughly, bunching them at your thighs. The cool air hits your heated skin and fuck—you've never felt more exposed, straddling him like this, movement restricted.

His palm slides up your inner thigh, leaving fire in its wake. When his thumb brushes over your clit through your panties, the shock of pleasure makes you bite down on his shoulder to muffle your moan.

His muscles tense under your teeth and he makes a sound—half growl, half grunt.

"You like that, sunshine?" His voice is low and taunting.

And damn it. That fucking nickname again. You don't know why you fucking like it. Oxygen must not be reaching your brain.

Though it's not like you can trust yourself to speak—not with his thumb doing that, drawing slow circles that make your thighs shake.

You press a hum into his shoulder instead, teeth grazing skin in silent demand for more.

The heat between you is becoming suffocating, giving you a headache. Or maybe that's just him, the way he touches you like he's got all night to take you apart piece by piece. Like making you fall apart is his new favorite hobby.

"Jeon," you gasp against his shoulder, already embarrassingly breathless. "Take your fucking pants off."

For a terrifying second, you think he might deny you just to be a dick.

But then a deep snort rumbles through his chest and fuck—his next words may be your undoing.

"Bossy, aren't we?"

His tone is too smug for your own good.

For his own good.

For the good of humanity.

He manages to unzip his pants one-handed, whilst his other hand grips your waist, lifting you effortlessly—and honestly, the casual display of strength shouldn't be sexy but of course when it comes to him, it just is.

He shimmies his pants down to his thighs, leaving just his tight black briefs between you.

"Better?" He sounds all cocky about it, but you're too busy staring at the obvious bulge straining against the dark fabric to care, really.

You immediately sink back down onto his lap and oh—the thin layers of cloth do nothing to hide how hard he is.

The heat of his cock pressed against you makes you bite back a sound.

"Yeah."

The word may have come out too damn breathy, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when your hands are already wandering, desperate to touch more of him.

"Mhm," is all he says low and approving.

Your thighs clench instinctively, core throbbing at just his fucking voice.

Fuck him. Y̶o̶u̶ ̶w̶i̶s̶h̶.̶

Every roll of your hips makes sparks dance behind your eyelids. His cock is right there, hard and thick against you, and even through the layers of fabric you can feel how perfectly it lines up with your clit. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding your movements with absolute control.

"That's right, sunshine." And yeah, fuck, that's a growl. "Make yourself feel good."

Truth is—you couldn't stop if you wanted to. The danger of getting caught, the way his breath hitches when you grind down just right, the way he's gripping you like you're his lifeline—it's all too much and not enough.

And then, his fingers trace the edge of your panties.

It has you shivering, that light touch.

Because he's still being careful, so deliberate, like he's savoring every second. Like he wants you to savor it too.

You keep rolling your hips, chasing that delicious friction. When he starts bucking up to meet your movements, the added pressure makes you see fucking galaxies. His dark eyes are locked on yours, pupils blown wide with want.

"Can I take these off?"

And fuck, fuck, fuck, he still sounds smug, but there's a hint of neediness treading his tone that's turning you on further. His fingers hook under the elastic, waiting.

"Yes," you breathe, already thinking about getting his briefs off too, wanting to feel all of him.

But before you can even voice your concerns, he's already responding.

"I know." He replies, reading you like a fucking open book.

He smirks, thumbs hooking under his waistband, and peels his briefs down torturously slow, like he enjoys your impatience, making you wait. When his cock springs free, thick and hard against his stomach, your mouth goes dry.

You can't help but stare—the way it curves slightly to the left, the way it twitches under your hungry gaze.

The urge to touch, to taste—it's bordering on agonizing.

"My turn." He murmurs, like he's been patiently waiting for desert.

He helps you shimmy your panties down to join your leggings, his hands steady on your hips as you lift up. The fabric rustles obscenely loud in the quiet tent, like even your clothes are trying to give you away.

And then you're both naked where it counts, no barriers left between you except the rules you're already breaking—although not really because sex without attachment doesn't break any rules.

The distant sounds of the camp feel miles away, like you two have totally forgotten you're in Jeon's tent, in the middle of a camping trip.

Well. You're pretty sure people have fucked in worse situations. So whatever.

His hands grip your hips once again, guiding you down onto him. And when you do, the slide of his bare cock against your slick folds nearly makes you whimper. You can feel every ridge, every vein pressing against your core—and each tiny movement sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

"So good," he groans, the sound rumbling through his chest.

His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, like he's fighting to keep control, and you couldn't agree more.

Because the friction is divine, each roll of your hips making your thighs shake. You're already embarrassingly wet, leaving him slick and shining in the dim light.

He's so wet—from you, from him, it doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is the obscene sounds of skin on skin and the filthy curses falling from his lips.

His mouth returns to your collarbone and his lips are impossibly soft and the metal of his piercing incredibly cold and for some forsaken reason it turns you on even further. When he moves lower, dragging that piercing over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, you nearly come undone.

His hand on your hip keeps you exactly where he wants you, controlling the pace as he grinds his cock against your clit. He's moving hips like he knows how to make your eyes roll back. His other hand finds your free nipple, pinching and tugging until you're trembling under his touch.

"Do you wanna cum like this?" The words vibrate against your breast, making you shiver. "Grinding against my cock?"

You can barely nod. Your brain's a puddle of want and sex, reduced to basic functions like yes and please and more.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, needing to hold onto him as he takes you apart piece by piece. Every 'sunshine' that falls from his lips pushes you closer to the edge. You're quivering, hovering right on the brink, completely at his mercy.

And judging by that smirk against your skin? He knows it.

"Yeah, just like that." His voice is pure gravel, wrecked and hot and just outright sex. "Keep rubbing that pretty pussy against my cock."

You should be embarrassed by how those words affect you, but you're too far gone to care. His filthy mouth just makes you wetter, makes you grind down harder.

"Fuck yeah." The curse hisses through his teeth, and god—the way he sounds when he's losing control is addictive.

He keeps humping, cock rubbing against your clit every time, sending electricity shooting up your spine—and he's just so hard, so thick and fucking perfect under you. You didn't even know grinding could feel this fucking good.

"Shit, s'good," he pants, and you can tell he's barely holding it together.

His nails dig into your hips harder now, like he's nearing his own edge, like he wants to tumble down the precipice of pleasure as much as you—if not more.

Like he's fighting to maintain control over his own body.

You kind of want to make him lose it.

Your fingers are completely tangled up in his hair now, and you can't even tell where your hand begins and his locks end. All that matters is each fucking perfectly synchronized roll of your hips, each firework burning behind your eyelids.

You're so close, so fucking close.

He must feel it in the way your thighs tremble, because suddenly his grip on your hips turns bruising. His mouth releases your nipple with an obscene pop, and then he's burying his face between your breasts, breath hot against your sweat-slick skin.

"C'mon sunshine." He sounds absolutely debauched. "Cum f'me. Do it."

And fuck—that does it.

One more perfect grind of his cock against your clit and the orgasm embraces you like a warm hug. The moan that tears from your throat would definitely give you away if Jeon's hand didn't clamp over your mouth just in time.

Your body jerks against him, every nerve ending on fire. You're vaguely aware that you're probably pulling his hair too hard but you can't help it (he deserves it for being a teasing bitch).

Though, you can't help but feel a bit proud because it must be the sight of you falling apart what pushes him over too.

Because suddenly he's crushing you against him, face pressed between your tits to muffle his groans. His cock pulses between you, and there's hot ropes of cum painting both your stomachs.

His whole body trembles as he cums, nails leaving crescents on your hips—moons that will stay buried in your skin for days to come.

But you don't mind, enjoying the way each throb of his cock sends aftershocks through your oversensitive core. You can feel his heart hammering where you're pressed together, matching your own thundering pulse.

Holy fuck.

You collapse against him, completely boneless, barely aware that the tent now reeks of sex and pine and chai, and your brain's too fuzzy to do anything but breathe it in.

The judgemental owl from before hoots.

Your head finds his shoulder while his face stays buried between your breasts. His breath is hot against your skin as it slowly steadies. One of his hands traces lazy patterns on your back, and it's... nice. Surprisingly gentle for someone who just made you see stars.

"That was intense." His voice vibrates through your chest, rough and satisfied.

"Yeah." It's all you can manage. Your tongue feels too heavy for words, your body weightless and done.

He actually chuckles, the bastard. "You really needed that, huh?"

You want to smack him for being so smug, but your arms won't cooperate. You settle for an annoyed grunt instead, which just makes him laugh harder. His chest rumbles against yours and god—you're too fucked out to deal with his ego right now.

He taps your hip gently—a signal to move.

When you peel apart, you both look down at the mess of cum painting your stomachs. The sight makes heat flood your cheeks, a vivid reminder of what you two just did.

And frankly, how good it was—even if only grinding.

Not that you'll tell him that. His head's big enough already.

Jeon sighs—all annoyed like he wasn't just cumming his brains out—and starts rummaging around for something to clean up with. You just... roll over. Press your face into his blankets and, yeah, they smell like him. Not cologne or soap, just pure Jeon. Pine and wood and man.

Your eyelids are so heavy. The blankets are so warm. Maybe if you just... rest for a minute...

You vaguely register him cleaning himself up, but you're already half-asleep when his voice cuts through your haze.

"Hey, don't you dare think I'm letting you get all my shit dirty."

You manage a grunt and scrunch your nose. Why is a man talking?

"Fucking hell." He sounds exasperated, but his touch is surprisingly gentle when he starts wiping you clean. You just lay there like dead weight because seriously—moving is not happening right now.

The evidence of your activities dealt with, you hear him toss the wipes aside and settle next to you.

The silence that follows is nice.

Comfortable.

You burrow deeper into his blankets, letting his scent wrap around you like a cocoon, and you're this close to blessed unconsciousness when an agitating, grating noise ruins it again.

"Hey." All firm and authoritative like you give a shit right now. "Remember you gotta be up before dawn. We can't have anyone getting the wrong idea."

You heave the longest, most dramatic sigh of your life.

"I know. I will," you mumble into the blankets, already turning away from his voice.

Like, you get it. No sleepovers allowed. But also? Shut up and let you enjoy your post-orgasm coma for five fucking minutes.

He nudges you again, more insistent this time. "I'm serious. No misunderstandings, alright?"

God, why does he have to be so paranoid about it? This is just sex—no strings attached, no rules broken. You're not some lovesick teenager who's going to get the wrong idea from a hookup.

"Then set up a fucking alarm or something, alright?" The words come out sharper than intended, but you're too fucked out to care. "I'll wake up and get out, just stop being so damn annoying."

The silence that follows is almost funny. You can practically feel his surprise at your tone. Then he exhales—that short, irritated huff that means you've actually managed to ruffle the great Chief Jeon's feathers.

"Fine." He sounds... sulky? The mighty assassin, sulking. You'd laugh if you weren't so desperate to sleep.

The blue light from his phone briefly illuminates the tent as he sets the alarm. When he settles back down, you can feel him giving you one last look—probably questioning his life choices.

Whatever. You burrow deeper into his blankets, which smell unfairly good. The tent falls quiet except for your breathing and the distant sounds of the camp.

You're pretty sure he'll actually wake you up. That's just how Jeon is—stupidly reliable even when he's being an ass about it.

So you count on it.

And the last coherent thought you have before sleep claims you is that his blankets are way too comfortable for someone so annoying.

next | index

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gallusrostromegalus · 7 months ago

Note

I noticed when reading through all your worldbuilding stuff a bit ago that you changed from having isshin remember some stuff to not remembering shit and while i am absolutely not complaining, im curious why I out changed it? Like, cool either way, I'm just interested in the process ^^

I did and did not change it?

Amnesia is almost never a total void- it's more common for people to have SOME memories, but a total lack of context- the memories play out like a movie scene, but the person has no idea who the people in it are, or why they're doing that.

So Isshin has... some memories, but no context for them. He remembers a family member named Kaien- was that his cousin? A young uncle? A neighbor? He's not sure. He remembers a scary old man and some kid and the world's most annoying woman (affectionate), but he doesn't know who they are or how he knows them.

He also has memories of monsters, and the lore about how to avoid and destroy them- was it something Masaki told him, when they were both recovering in the hospital after his accident? Or something older? He doesn't remember.

Ichigo's taxidermy cat starts talking and walkign around and says his name is "Kon" and he's something called a "Mod Soul". Isshin thought that was a subgenre of music, but something about Kon's story follows a pattern of... something. Who knows what.

There's something familiar about the girl Ichigo brings home one night- his classmate, Rukia, who he found sleeping rough, can she stay here? Of course she can! Isshin has a good feeling about her, but heaven knows why.

Ichigo is going through something that he's weirdly reluctant to talk about- all boys get weird during puberty, but locking himself in his room or hanging out on the roof for hours on end, talking to himself? Odd, even for Ichigo. Especially when Isshin tries to eavesdrop on the conversation and it sounds like Ichigo is talking to an unseen friend- this "Zangetsu" guy. Why does that name sound familar? Why does Isshin even try to remember anymore?

Something is wrong. Something is terribly catastrophically wrong. Kon has been Piloting Ichigo's body for DAYS and won't say where his son's spirit has gone. He was doing the dishes and then suddenly... woke up on the kitchen floor. Karin and Yuzu are sluggish, all feeling like they'd been drugged. There's people asleep in the street. There's a terrible, heavy feeling in the air, like an impending hurricaine, despite the clear blue sky. Isshin is running to the hospital- if everyone's been knocked out, there's nobody watching the ICU, or what if someone was doing surgery when this happened-?

There's a man in the road.

"Shiba? Is that you? Is Destiny serving everything to me today?" he calls out, laughing. He's handsome, with a smooth voice and disarming smile. In the surroundings, it makes Isshin's skin crawl.

"...Don't you remember me, Captain Shiba?" the man asks, sounding vaguely disappointed.

Isshin absolutely does not. But he knows, deep in his bones, that this is a wicked, evil man. And that he doesn't have a chance against him, save for one thing- a ripple, less than half a sense of something, but a man knows his son in any shape, coming up behind the man at speed, he just needs an opening.

"OH HEY!" Isshin says, like catching sigh of a co-worker in the grocery store and shouting the first name that comes to mind because somehow he knows this will make the wicked man apoplectic with rage and blind to Ichigo's rapid approach. "URAHARA! KISUKE URAHARA I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU FOR AGES!"

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #isshin kurosaki #sosuke aizen

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loserabby · 28 days ago

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hi hi! 🍃 i think it’s time that I request something as well (since i love ur works so much!)

so, abby anderson x fem!reader - something fluffy and sweet. i’ll let u have creative freedom with this, do whatever fluffy bit you like!

i’d be super happy if you’ll take this request on but if you don’t - that’s totally okay as well! ☀️

love, hallow 🦋

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚. 𝐁𝐄𝐃𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆. wlf!abby x gf!reader

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ . ** MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOGI DO NOT GIVE ANYBODY PERMISSION TO REUPLOAD OR PLAGARISE MY WORK. IF YOU SEE SOMETHING I'VE WRITTEN ANYWHERE ELSE OTHER THAN HERE OR MY A03, PLEASE LET ME KNOW VIA ASK **

₊˚ 𓂃 ₊ ˚ ✧ you're not your girlfriends keeper but if hunting her down when she doesn't come back past curfew to make sure she gets a decent sleep is what it takes to make sure the patrol squad she gets paired with the next day doesn't get a grouchy abby anderson, you'll do what you have to.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : established relationship, fluff, kissing, mentions of lord of the rings? the barest of spoilers for the series ig but not really, wlf!reader, just kinda domestic 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 1,738k

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 : i had a crisis writing this because i started to panic i couldn't write straight up fluff, then i started wondering what constitutes as fluff and it just turned into a very weird moment where i was judging every aspect WAY too harshly so this is what we've ended up with. also hallow!!! ily sm thank u for ur kind words and i really appreciate that 🥺 also despite being a big fantasy reader, i have never read the tolkien books and only watched the films once (i cried bc i did not want to watch them lmao) so the snippet where abby speaks about the book i literally got from spark notes okay. [ read on ao3 ]

[ border credit ] [ resources for palestine ] [ boycott tlou ]

A soft hum falls from your lips as you shift in the sheets, arm stretching as you move before you still and begin to softly pat at the mattress beside you with a furrow of your brow. Blearily you open your eyes, your hum sounding discontent when you realise the space really is empty and you weren’t just imagining the lack of another person beside you.

You wouldn’t quite say you’re awake but you still force yourself to toss the covers aside, fist curled and rubbing at your eyes tiredly as you throw yourself out of bed before you can think further on it. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Abby has clearly lost track of time and there’s only two options for places you can find her.

You don’t claim to be your girlfriends keeper but you do like to look out for, you don’t know, the rest of the stadium and if there’s one thing that could potentially ruin everyone's day and keep them on edge, it’s a tired, grouchy Abby Anderson served with a side of the well known Anderson Attitude.

Call it civic duty or whatever.

Now that summer has hit you don’t quite feel the same need to pile clothes on while you wander the near empty stadium but you still pull one of Abby’s hoodies on, sleeves falling past your hands and hem past your ass, since you know a chill still remains in the air once the sun goes down. And boy has the sun gone down, went down hours ago. It’s gotta be way past curfew, probably closing in on two am when you tredge up to the door of your apartment — your shared apartment — with your girlfriend who promised she’d get home at a reasonable time.

Your eyes are a little less heavy with sleep by the time you push the doors to the gym open, noting the few people working out in solitude but mainly the lack of one Abigail Anderson with a sigh. That leaves one last place, you think as you yawn unabashedly.

It takes a while to walk across to the other side of the stadium with a sigh, but luckily it’s quicker with the lack of other people taking up space and getting in your way. Really, beyond the few people pulling night shifts or returning to their own homes, it’s practically empty, and the only reason the few guards you see don’t pull you aside to ask why you’re out past curfew is because they likely know who you are; or more likely, who you’re after.

Creeping into the stadium’s makeshift library you shake your head softly when you spot a familiar blonde head of hair just above a book, half-sunk into the cot with her knees up that you know she’d claimed as hers for these reading sessions. When you walk closer you can see she’s struggling to keep her eyes open — eyelids bouncing open wide every couple of seconds like she’s being repeatedly jolted awake, almost like a kid whose up way past their bedtime.

She’s not even noticed you standing in front of her with a fond but tired look on your face, eyes too fixed on the words on the paper, engrossed by whatever is going on in her book of the week. She used to read mainly classics and fiction, but she’d begun to branch out into sci-fi and fantasy books, quickly becoming enraptured by the worlds she’d discover hidden within each book's binding.

You watch her eyes attempt to close before widening, forcing herself to stay awake, one last time before you reach over and gently push the book down on her lap, making Abby finally aware of your presence.

A sleepy smile and look of surprise appears across your girlfriend's face when she realises you’re there before her face falls slightly with a look of alarm in her eyes, “Shoot, what time is it? Did I stay up too late?”

An easy laugh tumbles from your lips as you place one knee on the cot, leaning over her and placing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Yeah, baby” You tease with a grin, watching as her cheeks tint rosy as she shoves something between the pages of her book to save her place. “Your book good?”

At your question her eyes light up, nodding as she pulls you down onto the cot with her — ignoring your grumble that they need to go to bed not get comfortable here — and pulls you up against her side, your cheek pressed to her chest as she lifts the book up to show you the cover.

“So good, no wonder it was basically a classic. I know I promised I’d be back and in bed for a reasonable time but I can not put this down”

You snort, “Weren’t you telling me at lunch that all they’ve done is travel so far?”

“It’s still so good” She pouts, rubbing at her tired eyes.

“Baby, for the good of everyone you need to be in bed ASAP” Abby’s face morphs into a desperate look and she shakes her head at your words, presenting the book to you as she tries to bargain for more reading time.

It’s some worn old thing, the corners scuffed and curled but Abby holds the thing like it’s precious, careful not to inflict any more damage than already done to it. You recognise the name, sure there was a movie made on it but you listen as she rambles on about the book.

“They’ve just got to an inn and there’s some mysterious figure called Strider that Frodo — he’s the main character, you know, one of the hobbits — talks with and I swear, he’s gonna be important cause even Frodo knows that he knows more than he’s letting on”

You nod, looking up at her from where you lay your head on her chest with a fond smile as she babbles on about her book, hand coming up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear that’s from the fallout of her now messy braid.

“—And I was talking with someone about it on patrol and she said there’s a prequel about Bilbo and for the life of me I can not find it in this place so I’m hoping on the next patrol I can get away to one of the libraries in the city to scope the places out for it.” Despite her animated, excited tangent her words are interrupted by a series of yawns she can’t fight off.

“Okay, hobbit—”

“I wouldn’t be a hobbit! I’d be… Uh, I don’t know, maybe I’d just be a boring human but I wouldn’t be a hobbit” Abby interrupts, pulling a face as you lift up to move. Her hands come to your elbows, trying to ease you back down.

“Okay, well, we can figure out where you fall in Middle Earth tomorrow but you, ma’am, need to get into bed pronto.”

Abby rolls her eyes but finally relents, another yawn escaping. She laughs when it makes you yawn too, pulling herself up to follow you like a puppy and wraps her large arms around your shoulders, her chest pressed to your back and head ducked into the crook of your neck. She can smell your shampoo, greedy for the scent of you and smiles happily as you both awkwardly start walking away.

“Careful, still guards about. Don’t want your reputation going down cause people see you actin’ like a clingy octopus” You tease her, taking her book from where she’d tucked it into the waistband of her pants, and holding it carefully as you push the door to the library open.She just nestles her face further into your hair, blindly following you as you make your way home.

“Still kick their asses any day, I can be soft when I want to, especially when my girl is so pretty” Her lips press a kiss to your neck, making you squirm slightly. You’re not quite sure if it’s because she gets that spot that makes you go gooey beneath her or cause every time she calls you her girl you feel yourself going a little stupid for her.

She peppers light, tired kisses to your skin until you both make it to your apartment, finally releasing you from her grip as the two of you make your way inside. You place her book on Abby’s bedside table, ready for the next day, “There you go, ready to continue your adventures in Middle Earth another day” You tell her, watching as she strips from her casual day clothes tiredly.

You mirror, pulling her hoodie up over your head and putting it over the back of the desk chair in the bedroom area.

You know she’d showered earlier, most likely after her patrol, due to the wet towels she left on the bathroom floor (so unlike her normally but when she gets invested in one of her books she sometimes neglects other chores in favor of diving back into the pages) so you tug her over to the bed when she’d down to just her sports bra and underwear.

“Wait there,” You murmur, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder as she sits and waits patiently on the edge of the bed. You return a moment later with a hair brush in hand, passing it to her as you take a spot behind her and remove the hair tie from the bottom of her braid.

You loved the small moments of domesticity like this, where you unwrap her braid and run your fingers through her hair, massaging gently against her scalp and feeling her melt under your touch with a blissed out expression on her face. You take your time then combing through her blonde locks, making sure not to pull at any of the slightly tangled strands until the brush runs easily through her hair.

Abby’s lips press against yours, not trying to deepen it but more show her appreciation. By the time the two of you are beneath the covers, bodies curled around each other. You both giggle tiredly as you set each other off with a myriad of yawns, but soon you both fall asleep in each others embrace. The last thing Abby remembers is the feel of your fingers tracing shapes against the exposed skin of her back

#.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚. asks #wingedhallows #wingedhallows-prime #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby tlou #abby anderson imagines #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x y/n #abby anderson x you #lesbian #.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚. writing: mine

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mimiiiiiiiiisstuff · 6 months ago

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I can just imagine Tiffany just watching the mc sleep.

Just imagine curling into your pillows, blinking awake and you see this girl who’s trying to be you taking notes all about you.

Hot take: I would at least try to befriend her, maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t slept recently or something but just imagine becoming her friend. I’ve personally befriended everyone I’ve had ‘beef’ with, so just imagine Tiff apologizing and the two of you just dying the other’s hair, listening to music or baking together.

Befriend the cunt to get rid of the cunt I suppose,

Good morning yall!! I woke up so sick idk why but anywayssss....

yes bro like Tiffany's obsession with reader is beyond weird. she woul literally wear her skin if she good. Tiffany goes out of her way to memorize things like how reader sleeps, how she sits casually, her handwriting, tries to dress like her and wear the same perfume, she even practices sneezing like her.

And as much as I love a good enemies to friends pipeline, Tiffany is just too far gone for that. remember she's been literally bullying reader since like the 7th grade. i kinda imagine reader to be a very kind, shy girl who forgives on the outside but never really lets things go. so while she might act cool w Tiffany while she's in the manor, don't think she's forgiven her. honestly it's gonna suck for the batfam once they realize that the reader holds onto grudges like it's her job. the snake bite also has an affect on her personality, I won't say positive or negative because it's rlly a bit of both. like it makes her more confident, less shy, more sultry, more agile and charming but it also allows her to literally spew venom out of her fingertips (and teeth). i'll dive more into this in another post! but yeah reader and Tiff will not be friends but there definitely will be an enemies to friends to maybe lovers plot with someone!!!!! Also who do yall want as a love interest for reader???? and why?

#yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere dc #yandere batman #yandere tim drake #yandere x reader #platonic yandere batman #yandere batfamily #yandere batman x reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere bruce wayne x reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere dick grayson x reader

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saturnniidae · 1 year ago

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More dragon rider disability headcanons for disability pride month!

(Ones specifically abt Hiccup are here)

Ruffnut has hypermobile EDS (when the twins were doing some bit that was basically Guinness book of world records she said smth abt 'worlds stretchiest skin' and my mom made a joke and said 'ruff has eds!' And it stuck)

A joke Ruffnut loves to make is saying Tuff is so insufferable she should just run away to join a circus and become a contortionist. She thinks it's the funniest thing ever

Hiccup also has some weird hypermobility stuff going on, when Ruff learns this she calls him a fellow circus freak (affectionate) and offers to let him come with her when she runs away. The response she got was "I'd rather stick my hand in Fenrir's mouth."

Tuff is visually impaired in his right eye from a childhood injury (another joke taken seriously)

All the riders are neurodivergent!

Snotlout has a frequently irregular heartbeat as well as memory issues due to how many times he's been struck by lightning. His whole book he wrote in that one episode isn't the only writing he does, he keeps a notebook to help keep track of minor things he might forget.

Astrid tries to make Hiccup breakfast in bed when he's having bad pain days and is too tired to do it himself. She almost burns the house down every time, so Toothless will go and get the other riders to help out while Astrid is kicked out of the kitchen and sent back to bed

Hiccup can be really fucking mean sometimes! Usually it's intentional bc he's in a bad mood and wants to be left alone. If it's seemingly unprovoked though, the others know it as a sign he's likely in pain and needs to be left alone (he still insists on getting work done but usually Toothless annoys him into resting)

Astrid has aches in her leg from when she got shot with that arrow, it being poisoned with dragon root did something to mess up the healing process so its worse than other old injuries (Dragon root isn't poisonous to humans but still having it in your blood stream isn't a good idea). She's also very mean when she's in pain, especially because it ruins her schedule since she can't train. Eventually her and Hiccup come to an agreement when they're having bad pain days they'll meet up in one of their huts and just. Sit together enjoying the others comforting presence but rarely talking

This is because Hiccup and Astrid both hate being in pain in front of people, they both share that almost extreme fear of vulnerability and the best they can do is take comfort in each other

Hiccup and Fishlegs are hyperfixation buddies! Fishlegs is the only one who doesn't get mad (it's just fond exasperation) when Hiccup wakes him up in the middle of the night to infodump, they just bounce off each other talking about dragons until woah suddenly the sun is rising and that is when Fishlegs gets upset because he values his sleep

All the riders have burn scars of varying severity. They literally work with dragons there's no way they wouldn't. And they all deal with their pain in different ways, but are unwavering supportive of each other when they can be

I've said it before and I'll say it again, a lot of characters should be disabled.

I know, cartoon logic and all, but the things that happen to these guys are things that should affect them for the rest of their lives. And watching characters struggle with permanent change like that, the realization you can never go back to how things were, and eventually healing and learning that's okay! You can still find happiness and be happy and it doesn't make your pain any less valid! It's so important to me and that's obviously reflected in my interpretations of my favorite characters lmao

#httyd #hiccstrid #rtte #hiccup haddock #im cooking today #astrid hofferson #snotlout jorgenson #ruffnut thorston #tuffnut thorston #fishlegs ingerman #how to train your dragon #httyd headcanons #httyd gang #disability headcanon #autistic!hiccup #autistic!astrid #barely spell checked this but i have a feeling that as per usual im gonna find embarrassing typos only after its been reblogged 😭#moth.txt #deyas dragons

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lapseinart · 3 months ago

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I have so many ideas for the Bridgertons as babies, like, you have no idea because some babies have quirks and particular about certain things and I just know the Bridgertons were quirky, particular babies ngl this is based on my family

Anthony was a fussy and particular baby. The only way he would calm was when people walked up and down staircases while carrying him. Edmund's glutes did not thank him the exercise. No ones not sure how they figured it out, but he quite liked when Edmund did sort of a droning sort of hum/whine/sound instead of humming a regular song. The only one this trick doesn't work with is Francesca (Bridgerton spouses are quite disconcerted when they first hear it but admittedly its rather effective)

Benedict in contrast was super easy and sleepy. He slept through the night even as a newborn--had to be woken to eat, sometimes ate while still mostly asleep--to the point to which made Edmund and Violet call a doctor (bc didn't babies cry?? Anthony cried all the time he was crying now) who told them to simply be grateful for the sleep they got

Colin was mostly a calm and easy baby except he got fussy after eating and Edmund and Violet did not understand why until someone asked if they had burped him, and it was in that moment that they realized Anthony and Benedict had never cried to be burped. Like Anthony cried for a lot of reasons but not burping. All subsequent children had to be burped tho.

Daphne was the only biter of her siblings after her teeth came in. Her parents and nursemaids lived watching her mouth and had near permanent teeth dents on their hands to prevent her from biting her siblings. This was ultimately not successful and she bit her older brothers (mostly Colin) several times and also baby Eloise once. Her daughter Belinda is a biter, and Anthony calls it karma

Eloise enjoyed being vigorously bounced in lieu of being rocked. This was discovered when they left her with 9 year old Benedict, who did not quite grasp with how much vigor one ought to bounce a baby. It calmed her screams more easily, but Edmund's muscles did not thank him for this discovery as much as his ears. She was also a fan of stairs, but not as much.

Francesca may not like the droning hum, but it's not because she liked Edmund's singing. Actually, it made her cry harder. She did like it if her mum sang or hummed though. (in all honesty, Edmund was a bit tone deaf) (that's probably where the more monotone droning came from) apart from that she was very chill

Gregory was fussy, but that could very well have been because he was constantly being poked at as the newest baby. Of all of them, he was the slowest to start talking, partially because he was so doted after he rarely needed to make his demands more clear.

Hyacinth was also particular and would only fall asleep if Anthony walked up and down staircases while holding her. If Violet was less depressed, she probably would have called it karma

People always write normal ass babies. But sometimes babies are weird.

#bridgerton #anthony bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #francesca bridgerton #gregory bridgerton #hyacinth bridgerton #edmund bridgerton #violet bridgerton #lapse in thoughts #i was the one who slept through the night and prompted medical concern I was also the biter which prompted psychological concern #The droning hum comes from my dad's side of the family tho idk if its because of being tone deaf its just a Thing w my grandma #the staircases was my cousin so is the bouncing #well not like that exactly but my aunt bounced my cousin a lot with surprising vigor that my mom was like whoa #my youngest brother was the only one of the three of us who cried to be burped and it happened pretty much like that

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fungateshortcakes · 10 months ago

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Deadly Dinner (old!Logan x fem!reader)

Pairing: old man Logan × fem!mutant! Reader

Summary: A nice family invites you, your husband Logan, Charles and Laura to dinner at their farm. You have a lovely time, yet Logan insists on leaving despite being offered a place to sleep. Maybe you should have listened to him?

Wordcount: 5.1k

Genre: angst, heavy angst, little tiny bit of fluff, follows the plot of the movie (Logan 2017)

Warnings: english is not my first languange! first time posting on tumblr, blood, goore, wounds, violence, death, X24, guns, stabbing, one time use of (Y/N)

I've never uploaded to tumblr before, so I am still trying to figure things out. Let me know if you liked it!

___________________________________

You knew Logan didn't really like sitting here at the dinnertable with this new family when he was supposed to sit in his car and get Laura to her destination - which he didn't believe to be real, but what other choice did he have?

For you, this felt..nice. It was like catching a long needed break, bringing back domestic moments like this even for just a little while. You had missed that in your marriage with Logan for a long time now. He was getting old, getting tired, shutting you off more often than not. And even if this was just play pretend - Laura being your little daughter, despite you knowing her for barely a week, and Charles being Logans father - for a second you allowed yourself to be fooled and enjoy this moment as it was.

"Oh she is adorable" Kathryn cooed as she watched Laura stuff her mouth full of food with her bare hands. You chuckled nervously and went to wipe her greasy fingers clean, to which she looked at you with a slight glare. You gave her a warning glance no one else could see and handed her cuttlery. You turned back to Kathryn with a forced smile. "Isn't she just? That cute little face makes up for all the manners she doesn't have" you elbowed softly into her side, she pouted and began to eat with her fork and knife, albeit unhappy with your decision.

Kathryn laughed, remembering how her teenage son Nate was at that age. "Don't be too dramatic, when Nate was that age, he was no different" she flashed her teeth while watching Laura eat her food in big bites as if she had been starving. "I miss when my big boy was still this little" she giggled and pinched her sons cheek, who groaned in annoyance.

"How did you cope with her going to kindergarden for the first time? Nate is going to college soon and I still can't manage seeing him all grown up" The woman swooned, turning her whole attention to Logan and you, completely neglecting her food. It also had been a good while for her that she got to talk to someone about this, she was eager for a conversation.

This was awkward. Logan and you never actually had children, nor did you two want any in the first place. Not to mention the fact that Laura was no ordinary child created by the love of two people, with a normal life and normal childhood. Your mouth remained open as you looked at her. You kicked Logan under the table and looked at him for help.

He cleared his throat. "Uhm...well. I'd say Laura had a harder time than us" he chuckled, the sound more of a rasp as he scratched his neck. You quickly clocked in. "Right, yeah. When we went to bring her in for her first day, Logan had to peel her off his leg because she didn't want us to go" you smiled and leaned against Logan, his eyes softening. "She cried the whole day until we picked her up again"

A warm feeling spread through Logans chest, dulling the every day ache for a short moment at the thought of what could have been. "Aww, sounds like someone really loves their mommy and daddy." Kathryn cooed to Laura. Laura couldn't care less about the words that were spoken and didn't really give the woman any reaction besides looking at her for a split second after she noticed someone talked to her. Kathryn was a bit...weirded out, to say the least. But it was good enough.

"Nate was the complete opposite" Will suddenly threw in, chewing his food soundly. "The second he hit the ground - he was off. Like he couldn't wait to get away from his mom" he lifted his fist to his mouth and coughed "not that I would blame him-" he muttered before his booming laugh echoed through the room after his wife had slapped his arm. "I'm kiddin" he snickered, holding his hands up in defense.

The whole table laughed, some forced, others genuine. Charles cleared his throat, pulling the attention to him. "In that matter, Laura is just like her father. Ever since Logan met (Y/n), he was stuck to her like glue. And it has been that way ever since"

The family ooe'd at you both, Logan huffing out a quiet laugh as he shrugged his shoulders in that 'what can I say' way, the crows feet near his eyes crinkling deeply.

You hadn't seen him like that in ages, the expression on his face coming as close to what someone would call joy as it could with the pain plaguing him every single minute of his time.

You rubbed his back, leaning your head on his broad shoulder that slumbed only a little under your actions. "Where did the two of you meet, hm?" Kathryn asked, eager to know more about your relationship. You grasped Logans hand under the table, for reassurance of course.

"Well my, my father ran a school for a lot of years. Right, Charles?"

Charles smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, yes it was...it was a kind of special needs school" he lied, Logan softly snorting at the choice of Charles words. "Uh-huh, that's a good description" you laughed at the sarcasm dripping from his voice. Of course Charles couldn't say what this 'school' truely was. But still.

"He was there" Charles started, pointing to Logan. "And she was, too"

Kathryn clasped her hands together. "Oh! So you are something like highschool sweethearts?" she assumed, smiling brightly at Logan and you. "I guess you could say that, yes" you answered and her smile only went wider at what she heard. She put a hand over her heart. "So true love does exist, how lovely"

For her, it sounded like Logan and you had been together ever since you were teenagers. To think that your love was still strong after all these years made her so incredibly happy for you two. Truth was, back at the mansion, you were well in your twenties when you met Logan. Not to mention that he was already over a hundred years old or so at the time. Besides that - you hated each other. Which didn't mean that what Charles said was wrong. Oh no. Logan followed you around everywhere. It annoyed you and he didn't even know why he did it. Turns out, he wanted to protect you ever since he laid eyes on you. Without reason. He just did. Keeping you safe was his priority.

It still was.

Not that you weren't fully cabable of handling any danger yourself. You were a beast in combat and could heal your own as well as other peoples wounds. And yet he felt a whole lot better if he was by your side and could keep an eye out. Just in case.

After you had waited for Laura to still her seemingly insatable hunger, Logan stood up from the table. "Well ma'am, I can't thank you enough for this. Uh, it was great. But we have a long drive ahead of us, so.." he trailed off, tapping Lauras shoulder so she would stand up. You frowned up at him but Kathryn spoke up before you could. "But you need to rest, don't you?" He lifted a hand dismissively "Yeah, we'll find a motel somewhere"

You and him locked eyes and you gently shook your head, he sighed. "The nearest one is two hours from here and it's not even that nice" Will argued and you raised your brows at Logan as if to say 'you seriously want to sleep in a murky hotel when we can stay here for the night?'

"We have a perfectly fine room upstairs for your father and your daughter. And you and your wife can sleep in the livingroom on the convertible" Kathryn reasoned even further as Logan pulled Laura up from her seat by the arm. He stopped to look at the woman. "Kathryn, it's very, very nice of you, but we really should go"

Logan turned, pulling Laura along but you stood up, blocking his way. "We can leave early in the morning. Break of dawn, as it were" Charles chimed in, looking intentively at Logan. "Listen to your father. Come on, just one night. I would agree with you if you'd let me drive once in a while instead. But you'd rather drop dead than let me behind the wheel." You muttered, looking deeply into his tired eyes, your hands gently roaming up and down his sides. "You need a break. Nothing will happen, okay?" The eyecontact in this moment was important to you, yet he huffed and looked away. You quickly catched his jaw, turning him back to you. "Okay?" you asked again.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, his eyes moving over your face with his internal fight. He sighed. "Okay" he whispered, kissing your forhead before stepping away. "Why don't we wash up, Pop?" Logan sighed, gripping the handle of Charles wheelchair, pushing him out of the dining area to a bathroom.

You smiled softly as Kathryn gave your daughter- well, Laura, a piece of cake for dessert and the little girl smiled softly for once. She was...just like Logan.

Turning to the big pile of dishes in the sink, you rolled up your sleves and began scrubbing at the dirty plates. You felt a presence behind you. "What are you doing?" Kathryn laughed in surprise as she watched you washing their dishes as if you were their cleaning lady. You knew the next words that would come out of her mouth would be something along the lines of 'you are our guest' and 'let me finish this up while you get comfortable with your husband'

You flashed a smile at her "You gave us a delicious meal and let us stay the night, this is the least I can do to show my gratitude and appreciation" and that quickly shut her up. She was thankful and you knew, that was all that mattered.

The clinking of cuttlery could be heard as you washed the forks and spoons thoroughly with a soap drenched sponge. It was a mindless activity for you, your hands only focused on getting every speck of left-over food off the steel and ceramic, you didn't even realise you were softly humming to yourself. Your mind was elsewhere. That's when you jumped as the water suddenly spurted all over the place, the pipes creaking dangerously. You quickly turned off the water flow before there was a loud "Ah, shit!" and the front door fell shut.

The next second Logan and Charles were out the bathroom. Will explained that the pump station that supplied them with water was a mile away and got itself shut off from time to time. From what Nate said, some douchbag men were the reason for it. No big deal, right? They still had a water tank that had been freshly filled by the heavy rain yesterday, which you used to complete washing the dishes. Yet, Kathryn wanted her husband to fix the problem right away and since he wasn't in the mood to argue with his wife in front of guests, he reluctantly gave in to go out to the fields.

"My son is happy to go with you" Charles chimed in, nodding over to Logan who looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "No, no, its fine" Will declined the offer. Partly because he clearly saw that Logan wasn't really keen on the idea and to Will, Logan looked rather tired, weary and- insustainable, not to say weak. If these assholes came, what kind of help would Logan even be? The last Will needed was to bring you back your husband, all beaten up or something.

Logan of course new better. Yes, he was weary, he was tired, but he's still got it. He'd manage, somehow. Logan threw a last glance at Charles before his shoulders slumbed a bit in defeat. "Allright, I'll go" he rasped and walked over to you. He put his warm, rugged hand on your shoulder, kissing your temple. "I'll be back in a moment, sweetheart. I will get Charles settled, you think you can handle Laura on your own?" there it was again, that slight smirk that made his eyes crinkle. You smiled at his attempt at teasing you. If your hands wouldn’t have been sopping wet and the others weren't there, you would have certainly wrapped your arms around his neck. Instead, you bumped his side with your hip. "Look who's talking" you teased back with a small grin. You leaned over to kiss him on the cheek- or as much as you could reach from it, which ended up being more beard than skin. "I will wait for you in the livingroom once I'm done until you get back. I love you"

Logan brought Charles up to the guestroom Kathryn had prepared and went out with Will shortly after. Before you knew, Laura had silently followed Nate up to his room. The house was quiet, even upstairs.

You hummed softly as all you could smell were the sweet soapy bubbles in the sink. You used a small bowl you filled with water from a tank under the sink cabinet to rinse off the dishsoap from the porcelan cups and wine glasses, scrubbing with a rough sponge to leave it shiny and spotless. It was a bit more tedious than if you had running water, but you enjoyed this domestic moment you had to yourself. The last few days had been draining and exhausting, keeping your stress levels high with every dangerous thing life had thrown at you.

You had hope that after all of this, after bringing Laura safe and sound to Eden, that maybe some things would return to normal, that it would get better. You just wanted your husband back. Not in the sense of him not being there anymore in the flesh- but he had been so emotionally absent from you for the past years. You loved him, and he loved you too. It was just hard to keep believing that. You always thought that you were something worth living for to him. You were well aware of the pain he went through every day, the reminders that were constantly thrown at him that he couldn't do things like he used to, the voice in his head only telling him to kill himself to get out of that misery. You had catched him more often than not playing with the adamantium bullet, sometimes even with a shotgun pressed under his chin. You'd rather not see that again- ever.

As you had finished every last piece and put it next to the sink, you searched for a cloth to rub the plates and cuttlery dry. One hand held the spoon while the other engulfed it with the rag, drying it in between every tooth.

Suddenly, you felt a pair of strong hands on your hips, the frizzy texture of a beard scratching the exposed skin of your neck. You hadn't heard how he came in. After the initial shock, you relaxed under your husbands hands and continued your task. "Are you back already? That was pretty quick. I hope these assholes didn't give you two too much trouble" you muttered absentmindedly as you changed out the dry dishes in your hand with still wet ones. "I saw Laura walking up the stairs, she is probably with Charles. Maybe you could check if she's asleep yet before we go to bed" you suggested but never heard and answer from Logan. Yet his grip stayed firmly on your hips. You figured he was just tired, too worn out to care.

His hands felt weirdly...cold. And stiff. Logans were usually warm and lose around your waist or shoulder. This felt different now that you thought about it. What happened out there?

"I'll meet you in the livingroom once I am done here, okay?" you asked then, still no answer. You could only feel his hands travel up from your hips to your waist, resting there. "Are you alright, sweetheart?" you asked him carefully. He smelled different. Like he just broke out of a medical institute, reeking like sanitized air. You grew a bit tense, and you thought he could feel that.

Finally, you decided to turn your head. "Logan-?" you asked, but before you could get the words out, six adamantium blades pierced through your torso, the tips poking out on either side. You choked out a pained yelp, your legs feeling weak. That man behind you, whoever or what he was- he lifted you up to have gravity pull you down more onto his claws. He enjoyed the gutteral cry you let out before he let his blades retract, your body falling onto the ground, your head hitting the kitchen tiles.

Blood gushed from the wounds on your waist, throbbing pain hammered against your skull. You couldn't pass out. If you passed out, you'd die. With short grunts filled with agony, you twisted your aching body to the side, your eyes glancing at the figure of a man, his footsteps thundering up the stairs. You whimpered out, but it was more of a breathless weeze. "No...No, Laura. Charles" you rasped quitely.

The world kept spinning in harsh circles. Don't pass out. Don't pass out. While you could heal, it was unlike Logans ability to do so. While wounds, cuts and bruises vanished the second he got them, or at least that's how it used to be, you had to touch the affected area with your fingers. The bigger the wound, the longer it would take for you to heal it. The bigger the wound, the more the healing process drained your energy. But you couldn't let him get to Laura and Charles. You wouldn't forgive yourself.

You jammed your fingers into the clean cut holes, wailing in pain, your body protesting against your actions as it coiled in on itself. You sobbed out as you tried to bundle your energy and concentrate it to your fingertips, the burning sensation of flesh, intenstines and muscles stitching themselves back together all over your torso.

Tears spilled out of your eyes as you wriggled around in pain on the floor like a worm that had been cut in half. You gasped deeply to fill your lungs with air, completely forgetting to continue to breathe from the amount of energy this took out of you. You tried to stand, tried to get up and save Laura and Charles. But your knees buckled underneath you and you fell back against the kitchen aisle.

With a heaving breath, you sat up to lean your back against the oven door, heart thumping against your ribcage after you heard cries and a gunshot from upstairs. Who was that guy? He had claws. Like Logan. This couldn't be, this wasn't your Logan, right? Right?

Speaking of which, your husband came stumbling into the house, only wearing his white tank, a look of panic etched on his face. As you saw him, you breathed a short sigh of relief. But it worried you even more. Because if the man that had stabbed you wasn't him- then who was he!?

Logans knees nearly buckled under him from the sight of you, your blood spilled onto the tiles, staining your shirt, smeared all over your hands and arms. He fell to his knees next to you, eyes roaming over your body. He saw the six hole shaped wounds on either side of your torso, his gut twisting nauseously as he pictured what happened.

His chest heaved, his strong arms slipping under your legs and back, lifting you up with a pained grunt. "It wasn’t me- oh god it wasn’t me" he rasped, but it sounded more like an reassurance to himself than to you. Because you knew that- he would never do that to you. He made you touch the wounds on your side with your hand, his fingers trembling as he did. "Heal yourself, c'mon please" he pleaded you, his heart squeezing deeply in his chest as he heard you whine in agony, your body too tired and weary to continue.

He brought you outside and laid you into the back of his pick up truck, pressing your hands to your torso tightly. You had broken out into a cold sweat, your gaze a bit blurry as you looked at him. You couldn't say a word, you had to heal yourself. And every breath, every exhale and mutter of our voice pushed you further away from your goal.

Logan brushed his shaking thumb firmly over your cheek, trying to soothe you. And himself. With one last longing look, he turned around to pick up Charles and Laura. But before he could open the door to the house, it was already opened and he was face to face with - himself?

The mans face and his were identical, but the stranger was youthful. No wrinkles, no scars, not a trace of grey in his buzzed hair or beard. Only a deep scowl on his face. Both held intense eyecontact but made no sign of movement. Not until Logans gaze fell downward after hearing a distressed shriek below him.

The man had Laura.

The stranger huffed through his nostrils as he shoved himself past Logan and began to stomp towards a row of armored cars, Laura struggling in the device he had put her in. "No...Laura" you croaked helplessly as you watched, your voice barely above a whisper.

You turned your aching body back to Logan, ready to beg him to save her - but he was already gone, running up the stairs to find Charles. Before you knew it, tears continued to spill out of your eyes and down your cheeks. Everything happened so fast, everything was so much all at once. You were no help, you couldn't fight.

You couldn't save your daughter.

You were on the brink of unconsciousness, your eyes falling shut every now and then as your skull throbbed with pain. You forced yourself to stay awake, forced yourself to listen to Lauras cries as a reminder what a failure you were. Logan was right, you should have left after dinner.

You saw as another three set of cars drove onto the farm, a group of men getting out and standing in the mans way. They talked to him and he lowered Laura onto the ground. You breathed a sigh of short relief, hissing as finally one wound closed up completely on both sides. Five more to go...

A pained grunt threw you out of your haze. It was Logan, with Charles in his arms. Stumbling, he brought him over to you and only then did you see the three wounds on his chest. Your breath caught in your throat as his weak body was laid next to you. "I can heal him" you rasped but Logan knew better. Charles wouldn’t make it, despite the amount of energy you would put into healing him. And the last thing Logan needed was both of you dying without him being able to do anything about it. He swatted your hand away with a hurt look. He had made a decision.

Logan and you leaned over Charles, your tear falling onto his cheek right after he took his last breath. "No..." you whispered shakily, looking up to Logan, his jaw working tightly as he blinked, as if the weight of the moment had settled within him.

An explosion went off behind you, bringing your attention to the man that had Laura. He had killed the group of farmer assholes and was now distracted by the noise and fire. That's when Logan took off.

",Logan, no!" you shrieked in sheer panic, your voice raw, as Logan threw himself at his doppelganger, stabbing him into his neck. He buried his claws into him over and over, grunting as he did. But that bastard healed instantly, just like he did once. The doppelganger roared and flipped Logan over himself, smashing him down against the ground by his claws.

You heard blood splatter, wood cracking, the cutting of blades and the screams of your husband as he was pierced by blades mercilessly, his body growing tired.

You couldn't bear to look as the man rammed his blades through Logans armpit and out of the top of his shoulder. You started hyperventilating as all you could do was listen to your husband getting killed. You cried, desperately pushing your fingertips into your wounds and getting a hold of yourself again. You had lost so much blood, it was hard to know what was up and what was down.

Another wound closed up, and another. You couldn't feel your legs as you growled out, putting the last bit of energy into healing yourself so you could help Logan. Or at least get Laura to safety.

A car crashed into Logans doppelganger, pushing him into the exposed sharp ends of a destroyed tractor piece, trapping him there. He grunted, growling animalistically, struggling to get free. Will slowly got out of the car, a shotgun pointed to the man he had just hit with his car. Frustrated and angry, he shot him three times, the third time taking his eye out of it's socket before he finally quieted down.

Stumbling, Will turned around to face Logan, the real one out of the two. Wills gaze graced over Logans withered and battled body, the way the crimson blood soaked his white tank, dripping down his arms, face and hands. It was everywhere.

Both men panted as they looked at each other, Logan struggling to stand up as his knees kept buckling underneath him. Will grunted and lifted his shotgun, pointing it at Logan with shaking hands. Logan watched, swallowing thickly before he let his head hang, eyes closing and ready for it to end.

"No! No, don't shoot him" you gasped, suddenly standing in front of Logan defensively, holding up your hand to show that you were unarmed. "It wasn’t him, please" you pleaded, but for what? That he wouldn’t shoot just because you said it wasn’t Logans fault? That wouldn’t bring his family back. So what use did it have?

You took a shaky breath. "I know that you are angry, that you are hurt. And you have every right to be" you said to him, trying to find a change in Wills expression, but there was none.

"If you need to shoot someone...shoot me" you uttered. Logans eyes widened and he hoped he had heard you wrong. "No" he slurred, a hint of desperation in his voice as he pushed himself to stand up. You paid him no mind.

"If you need to let your anger out on someone, use me. But don't hurt my husband. He won't survive a bullet. Please" you begged him. Your heart was pounding in your throat, your sides were still aching, but not bleeding anymore. Were you scared? Of course you were. Scared of death, scared of losing the love of your life, scared to leave him and Laura alone...scared to be left alone with a kid that was so smiliar to him.

Despite your pleading, Will pulled the trigger. You jumped at the sound but were pretty much still alive. His gun was empty. And he was dead. With a loud thump, the man fell to the ground, unmoving.

Both you and Logan sighed with a hint of relief. You turned to him, the sight of him all beaten up like a knife to the heart. You made him sit down on the ground, leaning him against the wheel of a tractor. He was protesting, trying to stand up. "My god, Logan, stop fussing! You can’t walk, goddamnit!" you yelled at him, which shut him up. He wasn't mad at you for raising your voice. He knew you were stressed and worried about him. You didn't mean to shout at him. He grunted as you lifted up his shirt, exposing a fleshy wound. "Sh, sh, it's all going to be okay" you breathed, fingers penetrating the wounds. He groaned out and you cooed at him, tears rolling down your face. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to heal you as best as I can, then we are going to get Laura and get out of here, drive somewhere safe, okay?" You whispered to him, watching his face contort in pain as his flesh sewed itself back together.

Logan huffed as he saw that your own wounds hadn't finished healing yet, either. He graced them softly with his hand. "Your waist.." he croaked but you shushed him. "Don't worry about me. I'll manage. But you won't on your own" you answered, already feeling a headache forming as your energy was drained, flowing into repairing your husband so he wasn't on the brink of passing out anymore.

Once the biggest wounds were somewhat closed up, Logan had already healed some surface cuts into scars himself. You kissed his forhead before helping him up, his 300lbs body leaning on you for balance.

You slotted him into the passanger seat of the pick up truck before jogging up to Laura, scooping the shrieking girl into your arms. You opened the drivers door and pushed Laura over to Logan before getting behind the wheel yourself and shutting the door. Laura yelled as she saw the dead body of Charles in the back of the truck, Logan had to hold her down into her seat as you drove off.

"What do you think you are doing?" Logan coughes roughly, you could practically hear the frown in his voice. He was displeased with you driving the car, he didn't want you to get involved into a car accident. He also wanted you to rest, this was a lot today. "Do you seriously want to start this now?" you growled at him. This was not the time to argue about mundane stuff like this.

He didn't say another word after that and you sighed deeply. "I want you to rest, okay? Just this one time, let me drive" you mumbled, tired of fighting with him. The air in the car was thick, but the car only went quiet after Logan had freed Laura from her restraints.

You drove in silence, your grip tense on the steering wheel. You felt a hand on your thigh. Logan softly squeezed the meat of your thigh, a way of him saying sorry. To show that you accepted his apology, because why should you be angry at him for long?, you put your hand over his.

You looked at him for a moment. "I love you." he said. And you were glad that after today, after everything, you were still able to hear him say that.

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god-syndicate-if · 3 months ago

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Sigourney Drabbles

[Wrote a bit on the car trip here. I also have one in the bank for Harper. I’ll end up posting drabbles for the other characters who haven’t got a mini game, enjoy the unedited mess. ❤️]

Shortness of breath. Increased heart rate. Sweating. Chills.

Symptoms too irregular to diagnose as any one ailment, too frequent to ignore. Unfortunately the pattern suggests that the present symptoms only happen in the vicinity of…

The obvious cure would be to separate from the source, stop talking to it, stop thinking about it. She wouldn’t give this advice to her patients, of course. But she’s a surgeon, not a therapist, and as a surgeon cutting things out of people is her specialty. A scalpel for skin, scissors for muscles, a saw for bone. Nothing so clean for this though. It would be so easy to cut out… the source of these feelings. But it would be messy. Evidence suggests increased time away from the source only seems to cause a variety of new symptoms. Melancholy. Irritability. Chest pains. Stomach aches.

If a cure will only give worse symptoms, then Sigourney fails to see that as an option.

The cause of her symptoms lies beside her. She wasn’t an insomniac but she felt like one tonight. Grand. Difficulty sleeping added to the symptoms you cause. Surely there’s a logical explanation for all of this. She’s no hypochondriac but watching you sleep felt like an infection was taking hold of her.

The warmth of your body. Your fluttering, dreaming eyes. Your parted lips.

You probably didn’t feel the ways she did. You slept soundly whilst she could not. You were cool whilst she was not. You were divine.

Could divinity feel as humans do? Would it not make sense if they felt more than humans? Less? It’s a question she asked herself for years, a question she forgot about until you. Surely you feel less about her than she feels about you. You’re a god. She’s mortal. Gods could not… like mortals. Not the same as she… likes you. She wants you to feel the same way as she did. Even now she wishes to kneel at your altar and pray. A suitable desire to have about a god she supposes. But her desires only spiral as the thought persists. She doesn’t have an altar yet she wants to see you kneeling at one for her, head raised, fingers pressed against her thighs, tongue-

Was this blasphemy? She was raised too catholic to have an unbiased view of religion. Lingering fears poison most thoughts she has about your very nature. The nature she’s studied very intimately. But humans had relations with gods in your day. Wanting to fuck in a temple, on an altar, it’s only natural. Anyone in her position would feel the same.

She needs to focus. This wasn’t about lust. It wasn’t about worship either. Whatever was causing these feelings was clearly an illness, something she was used to dealing with. That’s all this was. Just because it’s name eluded her didn’t mean it wasn’t curable. If she just found the right disease maybe she’d be able to get rid of the symptoms.

Perhaps she should consult a colleague. Right. That’s what she’ll do. She needs a gameplan. Something to get rid of this. Something to make her normal again. Doctor Cassidy was an asshole but he’d at least take it seriously. She couldn’t trust him to keep a secret though. Maybe not him. Doctor Rahal was a bit too flirty for her to typically go to him. But he’d keep a secret for her.

Maybe none of her colleagues were right for this. She’d schedule an appointment with someone in midstate. No. Upstate. Far away, with good reviews. Someone who will tell it to her straight and someone who wouldn’t start blabbing to the first group of vaguely bored nurses they see. Or at least if they do talk it wouldn’t make it to the hospital.

“You’re spiraling again.” Somehow your voice makes things worse and better. It’s infuriating. Soothing and scaring her. Another reason why gods frustrate her. No mortal has done this to her, it's clearly some weird power you must have.

She turns and sees you, features soft and lazy from sleep. She shouldn’t look at you but she does, the little hum of energy inside of her exploding as you meet her eyes. “I’m not.” Her voice is firm, almost clipped, but you’re not deterred.

“You are. I can practically feel it.” Annoying. “You’re like a ball of static, Sig.” The way you drawl out her name makes her want to kiss you. Or bite you. Probably both.

“It’s winter. The air’s dry and we’re under a wool blanket. Of course I’m going to be staticky.” She says dismissively, words coming out quick and chaotic. Though she knows she’s wrong to do so. You can’t dismiss a god but you can turn your back on one. So she does, literally it seems. Turning to face away from you.

Infuriatingly you take this as an invitation, moving up behind her, nuzzling your face into her hair and wrapping your arms around her waist. “Mh.” You moan quietly behind her. “Tell me about it.” You whisper.

Ha! Like that would get her talking about her feelings. “I’m anxious.” Fuck. Where did that come from? She thinks quickly and continues. “About a patient.” It’s not a lie, there are only a few laws saying you can’t be your own patient, she can ignore those for this.

You run a hand over her stomach, pulling her closer. She can feel your breath hot on her back, it makes something in the pit of her stomach turn. “What’s happened?” You ask, voice still thick with sleep.

She shakes her head a bit. “She’s just sick. With something strange. She’s been dating this person and every time she’s near them she feels ill. Feverish symptoms, increased heart rate, sweating. And I don’t know what it could be.”

“Mh.” You moan quietly again. “Life threatening?”

She gently shakes her head. “I don’t think so.” Though it felt like it all too often.

“Sounds like love.” You whisper.

Her back tightens, going rigid under the words. If you hadn’t been holding her she would have run. “This is serious.” She says.

You laugh in that annoyingly fantastic laugh. “Sorry. Then maybe it’s allergies?”

“No.” She says. You don’t have any pets, after all. That wouldn’t make any sense.

“You should rest.” Your voice is a whisper, you press your lips to the back of her neck and the heat you bring makes her sink. “You’ll have a clear mind in the morning.”

She won’t. Not with you.

#god syndicate #Sigourney #Drabbles #don’t come for me about this being literally 10 times the length of what a drabble should be #I. am. a. yapper.#anyway enjoy

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teencopandthesourwolf · 1 year ago

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"I'll text Stiles," Scott says, grabbing his backpack. "Then I'm gonna go see Allison.”

When Scott turns back around, Derek's lips are a thin line. They are the only part of him that moves when he asks, through his teeth, "Are you going to talk to her, too?”

Scott just squints because—huh?

"Derek, what do you mean am I going to talk to her, too?” He narrows his eyes, even more suspicious. “Why else would I be going to see Allison if not to talk to her? I don't just like, watch her from afar like some creeper you know."

Scott isn't about to admit that he has embarrassingly done just that on occasion. Alright, occasions, plural. But only once or twice! Five or six times, tops. And only ever when he thought Allison was, or could possibly be, in danger. It's not weird, though. It's not! It's noble, okay? It just sounds weird when you say it out loud. Even if he hasn't actually said it out loud. Well, at least not just now anyways. He's said it in front of the mirror a couple times and it turns out your reflection can be pretty hurtful and judgemental, which honestly is a little upsetting.

Just as Scott realises that Derek must know he just told a lie—half-lie!—the Alpha's face does a thing that Scott has never seen it do before. Ever. The dude looks almost… human.

And what the hell?

Derek clears his throat and shifts his weight from one foot to the other and worries at his bottom lip a bit.

Scott is now feeling anxious with a capital A because who is this guy? And what has he done with Derek ‘I Will Never Give A Single Thing Away About Myself Ever Other Than The Fact I Am Eternally Pissed’ Hale? (that's one of Stiles's).

Just the possibility of Derek ‘Emotionally Open and Vulnerable’ Hale is like—it's just way too much for Scott to handle on a Sunday morning when he's supposed to be at the veterinary surgery in less than fourteen minute's time and has to somehow manage fitting in seeing Allison on the way.

Unfortunately, it seems Scott is also too nosy to just move on from this and let sleeping dogs lie. And both of those things are really annoying because strange old phrases and being overly curious is usually a Stiles thing, not a Scott thing, so Scott really doesn't know what he's supposed to do!

W.W.S.D.

What Would Stiles Do?

"Um, Derek, have you been—"

"Firstly, McCall, following somebody around and watching them from a distance is not creepy if you think that they need to be tailed for their own safety, alright?" Derek starts and—well.

Exactly!

Scott actually genuinely likes Derek for just a single moment, because he knew he'd been right about that! He gives himself an internal high-five and an imaginary congratulatory pat on the back because being kind to yourself is never a bad option. Although it does mean that Scott now has to admit to himself that it does, in fact, sound weird when you say it out loud. Or—well. Think it out loud. Whatever, he knows what he means.

He realises that Derek is still speaking.

"...because Stiles is human and also the biggest danger-magnet in the pack, so it makes sense that one of us should be keeping tabs on him. Thirdly, I—“

“Someone, Derek!” Scott blurts, “I was going to ask if you've been creeping on someone!" he interrupts because—honestly, in the most way possible—what?! The hell?!

Scott is both stunned and annoyed at hearing that Derek has been following Stiles (hiding around dark corners and slinking about the place like a wolf ninja. Scott should know. Shut up.)

Because Stiles! Is Scott's best friend!

And like, how long has he been doing this? And for what purpose, really? Because Derek's heart just skipped about twelve beats never mind one, so reason number two was obviously at least a half-lie of his own.

That's when Derek's mouth clacks audibly shut.

Scott just stares. And he knows; there is more going on here than meets the eye.

Then it's obvious that Derek knows that Scott knows and then everybody is knowing and looking and looking and knowing and Scott just—he can't stand it, okay? He needs confirmation. He doesn't necessarily want it, but it's like his mom always says: Life's tough sometimes.

Eventually, he manages to say, "Are you stalking Stiles, Derek?" and hopes to hell he's wrong because he now feels somewhere in between being affronted on his best friend's behalf, totally grossed-out because it's Derek, ugh, and maybe just a little bit amused. Or is it bemused? Possibly confused. Scott is definitely some of those words.

And again, seriously, what the hell?

Has Derek truly been creeping on Stiles because he's concerned for Stiles's safety? And if so, why? Like, does Derek even get concerned for humans? Or other wolves for that matter (apart from maybe his own betas which is probably only a biological thing anyway, Scott reckons). Does Derek care about anybody? At all? Dude doesn't even care about himself, Scott doesn't think.

Scott now tries his best to come up with another reason, any other possible reason, that someone might have to follow a person around, but he can't seem to land on—OH, GOD! DOES DEREK HAVE A CRUSH ON STILES? Oh, shit! Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! He can't. But he—nope. No! Because what. The actual. Hell! He just—no. No, no, no. He really can't! Can he? Oh, my God, what if he does?! And if it is true... ew! Derek Hale crushing is just gross! And on Stiles?! Just, no. But also, why? And also-also, how the hell did Scott not notice something sooner?!

And another thing: did Scott somehow wake up this morning having somehow travelled in his sleep to one of those Affirmative Universe places that Stiles is always banging on about?

Man, Scott has like, so many questions.

Derek still hasn't said anything and is just standing opposite Scott with his stupid arms folded across his stupid chest with his stupid beard in his stupid loft looking really, really stupidly sheepish, and Scott thinks, yep—

Affirmative Universe.

He doesn't know what to do and Stiles isn't here to ask, so he waves a confused (and maybe amused and bemused) arm in the air and says, “Derek, what the hell is going on? Have we travelled to an Affirmative Universe or something, because—”

“Don't you mean Alternative Universe?”

“—you never just, I don't know, don't throw something offensive or at least defensive back at me when I'm talking to you about Stiles. Or you know, anybody else. Or anything else, come to think of it!”

Derek now looks, for real, actually scared.

And Scott? Well, Scott is now officially terrified.

His phone starts ringing and as it's already in his hand, he just answers it without looking, eyes still fixed on Derek The Imposter.

“Yooooo, amigo. What's the plan?”

It's Stiles. Of course it's Stiles.

Stiles is on the phone and Derek Hale might-probably-definitely have a crush on him and Scott may or may not be in an Affirmative Universe but can't know for sure and can no longer speak or think or breathe.

“Uh, Scottie? Scottland? Sir Scott-A-Lot? You there, ol’buddy, ol’pal?”

Derek can obviously hear who is on the other end of the phone. He looks positively constipated, his brows knitting together even tighter than before, tighter than ever before, his lethal jaw ticking away like it's being controlled by the World Clock in Berlin that Scott learned about in middle school.

Scott sighs, heavy, like he's seventy years old instead of seventeen.

Derek is now giving his best version of Scott's own speciality Puppy Dog Eyes (something Stiles and Allison always accuse him of) with a definite flavour of please, don't tell…

And Scott wants to cry. Like a baby. Like, throw himself onto the floor and scream and shout and kick his feet in the air.

Instead, he grits his teeth together like the mature person he is, feeling very firmly smooshed between a best friend-shaped rock and a werewolf-scented hard place.

Ugh, his life is just so unfair!

He mouths YOU OWE ME to Derek, and Derek's whole body visibly sags with relief.

Then he takes a deep breath and answers Stiles—who is now chanting ScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottieScottie down the phone—with, “Dude, shut up and listen, will you! I think we might have a very real problem with Affirmative Universes!”

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fangirlingpuggle · 1 year ago

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Very very dumb Bleach AU idea where Ichigo(at full power basically soul king level) goes back in time to fix everything ends up way further back like young captain commander time, he's able to fully kill Yhwach and prevent him doing anything at all, no sleep no future quincy war, he also gets involved in making soul society...more so just vetoing anything like central 46 because nothing involving them ended well, and should make things easier and less likely for anyone to manipulate.

He travels around for a bit making sure everything settled and no other persons gonna try to take over the world before not really knowing what to do... when he next checks in on soul society gotei 13's all established and everything seems to be going well, but when he checks in on captain commander he's like 'Well we need someone in charge'

'Isn't that you old man?'

'I can't be fully in charge of all of soul society I run the gotei 13... no we need someone else to run soul society'

'...'

'...no'

Ichigo is now on the run from all the captains who are trying to get him to take over things because a) he's insanely powerful b) he's actually good and not corrupted and will actually care about people and not just the nobles c) He has common sense.

'DON'T YOU HAVE THE SOUL KING FOR THIS?'

'Ichigo I am still convinced you are the soul king'

'I'm not!'

'You haven't aged a single day in the hundreds of years i've known you and you literally bitch slapped Ywatch into oblivion, you also seem to have all the powers..ALL OF THEM'

'...I...I...I mean your wrong... bit I do get it'

And this goes on for centuries Ichigo tying very hard not to have to rule soul society and convince people he isn't the soul king. Only her keeps ending up doing this because he keeps ending up adopting younger versions of captains and others. (It started with the captain commander sending little Jushiro, Kyoraku and a tiny feral Unohana to stop Ichigo he just went big brother mode... he is the one person Unohana will listen to and not try to murder...well when she tries to murder him it's more a game then an actually murder attempt)

Just Ichigo who ends up being big brother to like all of Seireitei, he doesn't age at all but even when the others get older them him still totally see him as their big brother. Him always having at least one or two following him around like ducklings.

Some hollows figuring out how to evolve to arrancar naturally... Ichigo was in Hucheo mundo for a while and his weird reality breaking powers might have affected things. Shinigami are totally chill with them because all of them have seen these types of hollow powers before most grew up seeing Ichigo use them casually. (Also Unohana wants to fight them)

Well until Grimmjow shows up and him and Ichigo are fight flirting just being very weird and all of seretiei are ready to give a shovel talk. Captain meetings are them plotting 'Big brother can do way better'. Captain commander is just watching all this amused.

(None of them realize Grimmjow thought process is

'Wait if I date Kurosaki I get to fight all of them... OI KUROSAKI WE'RE DATING NOW!'

'...WAIT WHAT?')

#bleach #au #fic prompt #time travel #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo ends up adopting all of seireitei #grimmichi #grimmjow jaegerjaquez #big brother ichigo #captain commander #gotei 13

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mountttmase · 2 years ago

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Winter Sun - Chapter 3

Note - chapter three already I can’t 😭 honestly thank you so much for all the love and interaction on this it’s really warming my cold little heart 🥹 enjoy this one kiddos and let me know what you think 🩷 also sorry if the tag list didn’t work last week I think I’ve fixed it for this one 🤞🏻

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 7.1k

Warnings - series will contain fluff, smut & angst

Masterlist

After your late night between the sheets, you treated yourself to a lie in the next morning. Waking to find a text from Carly to meet her by the pool with the others when you were ready, so you quickly threw on a bikini and shorts before throwing over a shirt and grabbing your things to go and find her.

You knew they shouldn’t, but Mason's words from yesterday were playing in your head a little bit still. You knew he meant nothing by it and was just being his cheeky self but you didn’t want to be a customer of his no matter if he meant it as a joke or not. It made you feel as if you were in a long line of girls he picked up whenever he felt like it and yes you were technically just friends but you couldn’t help but feel upset about it. Especially after the awkward good night you’d suffered through after you were both done last night and you felt like the whole arrangement you had going on was a bit weird now.

By the time you were outside pretty much everyone was there bar Woody, Kayla and Mason and you quickly said hello to Dec and Lauren before making your way over to Carly who had Ben's head laid in her lap as she played with his hair.

‘Morning lovebirds’ you smiled, standing at the end of their sun lounger before Carly patted the one next to her.

‘I’ve saved you a seat’

‘Oh, that’s a double though I don’t wanna take up a whole one to myself’ you told her, looking to see if one of the single ones were free but they were on the other side of the pool so you wouldn’t be able to speak to her.

‘There’s plenty for everyone else, come on it’s fine’ she pouted and after another quick scan around you realised she was right so you got yourself comfortable. The pair of you sat chatting and catching up until the others emerged and about half an hour later Mason showed up. The sight of him making your mouth water as he made his way over to everyone.

You’d seen him in a lot less by now but the tiny black swim shorts were making your tummy churn as they accentuated all your favourite features of his. Low on his soft hips but his thighs were still strong and the mole on his tummy was driving you wild. You kept your eyes down though and pretended to read as he made his way over to you.

‘Morning all’ he chirped and you sent him a quick smile before going back to reading. It didn’t deter him from flopping down next to you though and when you didn’t look at him, you felt his hand gently trail up your thigh before giving it a quick squeeze.

‘What are you doing?’ You whispered, heart racing from the feel of his fingers. Gulping down a nervous lump and quickly flashing your eyes his way to look at him. He was giving you his usual cheeky, innocent smile but you knew he knew what was happening.

‘What?’

‘Don’t, people might see’ you told him, moving your leg so his hand dropped onto the cushion with a thud and you could see his scowl from the corner of your eye.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing, I’m fine’

‘Did you sleep okay?’

‘I said I’m fine’

‘Y/n, I grew up in a house full of women. I know fine doesn’t mean fine’

‘I just wanna read my book’ you told him lowly and after a small nod he slowly got up and made his way over to the pool.

You felt awful instantly, watching him over your glasses as he swam a few laps with a solemn expression. You knew Mason and you knew he meant no harm with what he’d said yesterday. This was a tricky situation, lines were a little bit blurry but there was no use being snappy with him for something you knew he meant as a joke and you were being sensitive over. No matter how much he’d made you feel like it was something else, even in this short space of time, you were friends and the friendship comes first.

The longer you watched him, the more guilty you felt and you watched as he propped himself up at the end of the pool. His chin resting on his arms as he faced away from you and you knew you had to talk to him and apologise so you carefully got up to go and see him. Plonking yourself down at the edge of the pool next to him so you could dangle your legs in the water before looking at him in hopes you could catch his eye.

He looked up at you instantly, his big brown eyes making your tummy sink so you reached out to gently grasp the back of his head so you could pull him closer to you and he thankfully went with it. Your heart leaping when he settled himself between your legs, arms wrapping around your thighs before he rested his cheek on top of one so he could look up at you.

‘Sorry Mase. I didn’t mean to be moody’ you told him quietly and the small smile on his lips filled you with relief.

‘S’okay. Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine, I promise’ you reassured him, feeling even worse that he didn't seem to mind your mood swing. He just wanted to make sure you were okay. ‘Maybe I should have stayed in bed a bit longer, huh? I’ll be fine after a nap’

‘You’ve only just woken up’ he chuckled, eyes brighter than before which caused you to smile as you knew you were okay again and you let your hand get lost in his hair.

‘Hey, naps can be taken anytime of the day’

‘Very true’ he giggled, squeezing your thighs gently. ‘Let me know when you’re taking one I’ll join you’

You weren’t sure if it was the sun bearing down on you or if it was Mason himself but you felt warmed from the inside and as your hand was trailing over the top of his back and you were surprised at how warm his skin felt too. ‘Have you put sunscreen on?’ You asked but he shook his head shyly. ‘Come on, I’ve got some let me help you’

‘You don’t wanna come for a swim?’

‘No thanks, waters not really my thing. You should be thankful I’m even sat here’ you laughed before he kissed your thigh and swam back slightly to let you up.

Mason managed to dry off a little bit before he sat at the end of the sun lounger with his back to you and you slid in behind him to get to work. You'd never really taken a good look at his back before but he was much broader than you realised and you loved the way his muscles contracted under your touch. Taking your time to really look at him and feel him before telling him to turn and face you.

You let him get comfortable, one leg stretched out on the lounger now so you could sit yourself closer to his body. Noticing the way he shivered as you applied the cold cream to his skin before sending him an apologetic smile. He didn’t seem to mind though, a soft smile playing on his face as he watched your every move and you hoped he couldn’t hear your heart going at a mile a minute as you touched his chest and down to his abs.

It felt weird having these feelings. Mason was a friend and you knew that. But he was a gorgeous, funny and kind friend with an incredible body and you couldn’t believe you were sat here touching him up like this in front of everyone. Only made worse when his hand reached out to touch your thigh carefully.

The sound and feel of his belly rumbling as you applied the sunscreen to his body made you chuckle, eyeing him curiously as he laughed at himself before you rested your hands on his hips.

‘You not had anything to eat yet?’ You asked, watching him shake his head before you let out a little sigh. ‘Why not?’

‘You didn’t make me anything’

‘Oh so it’s my fault?’ You laughed, squeezing his sides playfully and watching him giggle and squirm before he nodded his head.

‘Well sort of yeah. It’s sort of your job whilst you’re here’ he winked causing you to roll your eyes but you knew he was right.

‘Fine. Just your face to do then I’ll make you something’ you smiled, applying some more cream to your fingers before awkwardly pushing your sunglasses up your face so you could get a better look at him. Thankfully for you the sun was behind you so you could see him perfectly and the sight almost took your breath away. Admiring all the tiny freckles that littered his face, the curve of his nose and the fullness of his lips. He really was beautiful and you used the excuse of putting sunscreen on his face to look at him like you never had before.

You knew he was watching you too, his bright brown eyes following you out of the corner of your eye but as soon as you tried to make eye contact, he looked down and a rosy tint began to flush over his cheeks.

‘I’ve never noticed how many freckles you have before’ you told him quietly, letting his eyes flicker up to you again before looking away. ‘They’re really pretty, I’m actually very jealous’ you whispered but before he could reply the sound of someone else’s voice caught your attention.

‘Oi Mase, why are you so red?’ Ben laughed from behind you and the fact that Ben had noticed only made it even worse. ‘Are you blushing?’

‘No, fuck off. It’s the sun’ he retorted, his hands suddenly retreating from your leg as he played with his fingers in his lap and you felt your heart sink a little bit.

‘Ben’ you suddenly heard Carly moan. Drawing his name out in disappointment followed by the sound of a gentle slap to the back of his head. ‘Will you stop it. Leave him alone’

‘What? I’m just-‘

‘No you’re being mean’

‘Come on, let me go make you something’ you smiled softly, standing up and offering him your hand even though you knew it was a bit risky but he took it anyway and let you pull him up before following you into the kitchen. ‘You want anything in particular?’

‘Whatever the chef recommends’ he winked and after a quick look in the cupboards you found everything you needed to make pancakes.

Mason sat and watched as you got everything together, asking if he could help in any way so you passed him a few bananas for him to slice up so they were ready before asking him to get the drinks ready. When you finally placed his food down in front of him he sent you the most appreciative smile and your heart thudded at his wide grin.

‘Thank you, Muffin. These look amazing’ he smiled as you put your plate down opposite him and watched him dig in. You loved waiting for Mason's reactions whenever you made him something to eat as he was always seemingly blown away and this time was no exception. Shovelling it in like he’d been starved for weeks as he let you know how good it was in between mouthfuls.

‘What’s going on here?’ You suddenly heard, turning to see Dec walking in, eyes on your plates as he licked his lips before sitting down next to you. ‘Why is he getting special treatment?’

‘He’s not’ you laughed, cheeks flushing at the thought of being found out. ‘Do you want something?’

‘No thanks, Lauren made me something earlier’ he teased whilst nicking a few blueberries from Masons plate.

‘Why are you moaning then?’ Mason laughed, moving his plate away out of Declan’s reach so he couldn’t take anymore of his food.

‘Cause that looks better than what I had’

‘You wait till I tell Lauren that. You won’t be eating for the rest of the week’ Mason teased, watching Dec’s face drop before standing up.

‘You do that, and I’ll make things difficult for you’ he scoffed before grabbing a few bottles of water out of the fridge. ‘Now hurry up you two, we need someone else for water volleyball’

‘I’ll be out in a minute, y/n can keep score’ Mason told him, sending you a quick wink as if he was acknowledging what you told him earlier and once you were both done he quickly helped you wash up before meeting them outside.

Kayla had also decided to sit this one out so you sat with her, pretending to keep score as you got to know each other a little better and you were pleased to find out how suited to Woody she was. She seemed to really care for him and when Woody jumped out the pool to grab his glasses she blushed as he placed a quick kiss to the top of her head.

‘You and Mason seem sweet together’

‘Oh we’re not together’ You told her, ‘we’re just friends’

‘Oh I’m so sorry’ she panicked, face going ever redder and she tried to hide in her hands but you just laughed which seemed to make her feel better. ‘I just assumed, thinking it was a couples holiday. That’s why I was so confused about you having separate rooms, you seem really close’

‘Its okay, we are pretty close and I think since he’s moved away i just miss him a bit more than usual. It’s nice to be with him again for more than a couple of hours’

‘Oh trust me, Woody doesn’t shut up about him and then every Tuesday at 8pm on the dot they have their little weekly facetime. Sometimes I think I should be worried’

‘You should speak to Lauren about that’ you laughed, watching Mason try and climb on Ben's shoulders so he could reach higher for the ball. ‘I think she’s genuinely worried Dec might leave her for him one day’

After another 20 minutes or so everyone was ready to get out, Woody stealing Kayla away to their own lounger and you’d noticed Mason had sunk down on the one you’d been occupying earlier. His eyes caught yours straight away as he called you back over so you gathered up your things to go and sit by him again.

‘Mase you’re all wet’ you complained as you got there, walking round to his side so you were further away from Carly and Ben and hopefully out of ear shot before watching him shake his hair like a dog as he sent you a lopsided smile.

‘It’s alright, I’ll dry. I wondered if you fancied that nap you spoke about earlier?’ He asked and you couldn’t deny him. Placing your things down on the floor but he was quick to stop you before you tried to lay down. His hand on your thigh to cease your movements causing you to look down at him in confusion. ‘I have conditions, and those are that those shorts and that shirt need to come off’ he told you quietly. Fingers dancing over the backs of your legs as he teased you but you figured two could play at that game.

‘You wish is my command’ you laughed, stepping back and away from him so you could remove the open shirt off your arms before unbuttoning your shorts and pulling them down your legs so you were just left in your white bikini. ‘That better?’

‘Perfect’ he smiled, his tongue darting out of his mouth as he looked you up and down before helping you back onto the lounger. He wasn’t sat down for long though, quickly getting up to pull the umbrella over you so you could both be out of the direct sunlight and you smiled to yourself at the thoughtful gesture. ‘I’ll try and have a think about what I want for lunch next’ he teased, laying beside you as you turned to face each other.

‘Hey Mase, why don’t I have a FaceTime time slot?’

‘What are you on about?’

‘Kayla told me you and Woody facetime every Tuesday at 8 and I bet Dec and Ben have a slot. Where’s mine?’ You teased, watching his face hide in the pillow as he laughed before facing you again with a wide smile.

‘I can add you to the rota. I’ll have my receptionist send over my availability’ he teased but you just rolled your eyes before turning onto your back.

‘Very funny’ you huffed, shutting your eyes as you could feel them becoming heavy but the feeling of Mason's pinkie linking yours made your heart thud and when you opened an eye to look at him he was still on his side but his eyes were shut.

You woke up a little while later pressed up against something warm but soft. Opening your eyes to find yourself laying on Mason's chest with your arm across his waist whilst he rested his hand on your back, dangerously close to your bum.

‘You make sure you’re behaving, Mason’ you whispered, noticing he wasn’t fully asleep and the little chuckle that fell from his lips let you know he’d heard you.

‘I always am’ he smiled. Pressing a light kiss to your forehead as his fingers danced just above the waistline of your bikini bottoms. ‘You’re not a bad sight to wake up to, Muffin’

‘Gee, thanks Mase’ you laughed, attempting to move but he didn’t let you. Holding you tighter to him as he trapped your leg in his and you knew better than to try and escape.

‘Don’t go, I’m comfy’ he breathed so you stayed where you were even though you knew it was risky but by the looks of it everyone else was asleep too so you basked in the feel of him while everyone else napped around the pool.

After you’d made Mason some lunch, you topped up his sun cream and he offered to help you with yours. Your skin tingling as his hands massaged you slightly and you had to bite your lip so you didn’t start laughing.

You and the rest of the girls went off to get dressed early, going all out tonight and the four of you were in the upstairs sitting room so you could do your makeup together before you popped downstairs to slip your outfit on. You hadn’t got dressed up like this in a while and you couldn’t wait to see Mason's reaction to your frilly lemon two piece that was showing off your tan perfectly.

The plan was to meet in the kitchen at seven so at two minutes too, you grabbed your bag and made your way out of your room. Just as you closed the door behind you, Masons opened. Standing there dressed in cargos and a baggy blue button up but his face was a picture. Eyes wide as they scanned your body fully but it was his tongue nearly falling out of his mouth that made you laugh.

‘Do I look alright?’ You asked, giving him a little twirl but the shuddery breath he let out told you all you needed to know.

‘Are you joking? I’m an actual dead man. Have your worn this just to taunt me?’’

‘No, I just thought it looked cute’

‘Well that’s one word for it’ he breathed, letting you walk in front before he gripped your hips and placed a kiss behind your ear. ‘I think yellow might be my new favourite colour’

‘Come on Mase keep your hands to yourself’ you chuckled, a tingle heading straight down your spine at the feel of his lips on your skin and you were hoping there would be more where that came from later.

‘How can I? I know what you’ve got hiding under here now’ he teased but he slowed down on the stairs so it looked like the pair of you weren’t too close.

Once you were out for dinner, Mason sat next to you again and his arm was back around your chair as you all casually chatted amongst yourselves. Laughing and joking as the boys told stories from camps and all the adventures they’d been on and you felt so full of happiness to be there with them enjoying moments like this.

You’d known it all day, but you were so thankful for Mason and his kindness. You knew you wouldn’t be here without him and you were having the best time so when you caught his eye and he sent you a wink, you had to hold yourself to your seat so you didn’t lean over and kiss him.

The club you were all going to wasn’t far and all the girls led the way with the boys trailing behind and it’s like you could feel Mason's eyes on your bum. Feeling his hand on your shoulder as you neared the entrance so he could lead the way in and over to your reserved table.

Carly ordered your drinks, four pornstar martinis showing up a little while after for all the girls as well as a few bottles of some sort of spirit the boys had ordered and you made it your mission to let loose tonight. Accepting as many shots that were thrown your way, even pouring them straight into Carly’s mouth at one point until Mason cut you off for a little bit and even though you sent him a pout you knew he was just looking out for you.

You were buzzed enough to join the girls for a dance, thankfully not being touched up by any random men this time so you could finally let go. Not caring about what you looked like or who was even looking at you in the first place. Just you and your girls having the time of your lives.

You had to take a break eventually, running out of steam so you plonked on a table in your section and Mason appeared as if by magic with a glass of water ready for you.

‘You’re a lifesaver, thank you Mase’ you gasped, gulping the whole glass down as he looked at you with a funny look in his eye.

‘That’s alright, Muffin. You having a good time?’

‘I really am. Honestly thank you so much Mason, I’ll never be able to repay you or say thank you enough for letting me come here’

‘Don’t be silly. You belong here with us’ he teased, bumping his shoulder into yours playfully but you knew he was just feeling a little shy.

He sat with you for the next 15 minutes or so, talking about the boat trip tomorrow and if you were going to be okay on there. Promising if you didn’t like it he’d get you off and you could spend the day on the beach together but you let him know you’d be fine and you were excited as long as you stayed in the middle.

‘Hey Mase, come join the boys’ you suddenly heard Dec shout from not too far away but Mason just scoffed at him.

‘I’m fine here’

‘Mate come on’

‘I’ll come in a minute, I’m in the middle of a conversation’

‘Look mate I’m not gonna lie, you’re ruining my plans’ Dec told him seriously but you both looked back at him unsure as to what he meant. ‘How are we supposed to find y/n a shag when you won’t leave her alone’

‘Dec I’m not here looking for a shag thank you very much’ you laughed. ‘This trip is supposed to be about us spending time together’

‘Yeah yeah whatever, I’ve made it my mission to get you a man’

‘Dec, I don’t need your help’

‘Sure you do now come on, who’s got your eye’

‘I’m not having this conversation with you’ you laughed as Mason finally stood up.

‘I’ll take one for the team and go with him’ Mason laughed, squeezing your thigh gently but as you looked up to Dec you knew he’d seen so Mason quickly scurried away to go and sit with the other guys.

‘I’ve got my eye on you’

‘What do you mean? What have I done now?’

‘I’m not sure yet, but I’m watching you’

The girls were back soon, coming to sit with you so you could order more drinks and take silly selfies before joining the boys again. Noticing Mason was standing just off to the side on the phone and you wondered who he was speaking to before he walked back over, rolling his eyes.

‘Mase? Everything okay?’ Carly asked but he just let out a huff before speaking.

‘No the bloody security alarms going off in the villa. They’ve tried turning it off remotely but they need someone to put a code in. It’s fine it’s not loud or anything and they said it can wait but I’d feel better if I sorted it out. I’ll pop back there now it won’t take me a sec’

‘I’ll come with you, just to be safe’ you offered and even though you could see him trying to hide a smile you knew it would take some convincing.

‘You don’t have to’

‘No these shoes are killing me, I can change them while we’re there’ you replied and that seemed enough for him.

The house wasn’t far away and it was a nice night so you suggested walking, only making it two streets before your shoes became unbearable and Mason noticed straight away.

‘Shall we just get a cab?’ He laughed, pulling his phone out before you even answered but you were grateful for his suggestion. Popping yourself down on the wall next to the pavement so you take them off and the sympathetic smile he was giving you made your heart melt.

‘I’m wearing flats the rest of this week’ you huffed, looking up to find Mason taking a picture of you but he just shrugged when you raised your brow at him.

‘You look cute tonight’ he winked, popping his phone back in his pocket before taking a seat next to you and you knew you were blushing. ‘Cab shouldn’t be much longer’

‘Thanks’ you nodded, pulling your phone out and taking a picture of him unaware and when the flash made him look up you sent him a wink. ‘What? You look cute tonight’

‘Very funny’ he rolled his eyes, before holding his hand out for you to take. Pulling you flush into his side so he could wrap his arm around you. ‘Can I ask you something? About this morning?’

‘Of course, what’s up?’ You asked, unsure of what he wanted to talk about but he seemed a little shy about it.

‘Are you okay? You know after this morning when you were a bit upset? I know you said you needed a nap but I just wanted to make sure you’re fine’ he explained, your heart melting at his concern for you but you knew you’d have to be honest with him now. ‘I know I keep saying it but it really is fine if you don’t wanna carry on-‘

‘No mase, that wasn’t it’ you laughed, resting your hand on his thigh and he smiled at the gesture.

‘What was it then? You can tell me, even if it was me. I just want you to be comfortable with everything’

‘I am, I promise. I just… you said something last night and I couldn’t stop overthinking it but I realised earlier I was being silly and it’s fine. You’ve done nothing Mase, I promise’

‘What did I say?’

‘I’m gonna sound ridiculous’

‘That’s okay, you normally do but I’ve learnt to just go with it’ he joked and you playfully scoffed as he tickled your side.

‘Thanks Mase’

‘I’m kidding, please tell me’

‘Last night, you said you like to keep your customers happy. I don’t know it just felt weird being referred to as a customer of yours and I know that makes no sense but-‘

‘No, it does. Sorry I shouldn't have said that I was just trying to be funny’ he told you, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m sorry Muffin, I didn’t mean anything by it’

‘I know you didn’t, and I didn’t mean to have a strop, like I felt awful for how I spoke to you’

‘Let’s just forget about it yeah’ he laughed, placing a kiss to your forehead but wished he’d kissed somewhere else. ‘But if I say something stupid again just tell me’

‘I will’ you laughed, squeezing his thigh gently. ‘And if I have a strop again please just ignore me’

‘I’ll try. You’re pretty hard to ignore though, Muffin. Especially dressed like this’

You didn’t have time to say anything else, the taxi pulling up and you both jumped in the back seat so you could take the short journey back and before long Mason was carrying you on his back up to the door.

‘I’ll call the people, you change your shoes and we’ll head back, sound good?’

‘Yes sir’ you winked, watching his eyes nearly rolling back in his head at your words.

‘Fuck, don’t do that’ he groaned, laughing as you ran away from him before he could reach for you but the growl that left his lips gave you butterflies.

‘Behave, Mason’ you told him, trying to give him a cheeky smirk. ‘Go sort the alarm and I’ll meet you in a sec like we promised’

You were just pulling on your left shoe when Mason knocked on your open door, turning to find him leaning against the frame with a sweet smile on his face

‘Alarms off’

‘Perfect, I’m good to go now too’

‘You want me to get us a cab back?’

You didn’t have a chance to reply, your phone ringing as you walked out into the hallway to stand by him and as you took it out of your bag you saw Carly calling.

‘Hey, you alright? We’re just leaving now’

‘Yeah good, don't worry about coming back if you don’t want to. Woody is feeling a little fragile so him and Kayla are heading back and we’ll follow shortly. The boys just want to finish their drinks so give us about 40/45 minutes and we’ll be back’

‘Oh okay’ you breathed, looking up at Mason's confused face but the fact you now had some alone time made you smile, much to his confusion. ‘In that case, I think I’m gonna have a shower and head straight to bed then but I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?’

‘Yeah I think we’ll all do the same’ she replied and after a quick goodbye you popped your phone back in your bag before wrapping your arms around Mason's neck.

‘Woodys not well. He’s on the way back with Kayla but we’ve got about 40 minutes until the others get back’

‘Oh really?’ He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he backed you up against the doorframe to your room. ‘You know now that we’re here, we could use this time to our advantage’

‘Oh yeah?’ You teased, running your fingers through the back of his hair as his face got dangerously close to yours. ‘You know I was thinking of taking a shower’

‘Funnily enough so was i’

‘Maybe we could share one? Save water and all that’ you offered, causing him to squeeze your sides playfully.

‘You’re a very smart woman you know’ he winked but he didn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you with a moan as he tried to back you into your room, kicking the door shut behind him so he could press you up against it. ‘God I hate this no kissing rule. I’ve wanted to do that all day’ he confessed, whispering his words against your neck before pushing himself off of you slightly. ‘Wanted to take this off you all night too’ he mumbled, reaching for your skirt and not caring to look at how to undo it, so you pushed him off with a laugh so you could get it off without ripping it.

‘Well calm down, this was expensive’ you laughed, blushing from his words and how needed he seemed for you but you were just as needy for him too so you carefully unzipped the back and pulled it off before doing the same with the top. Thanking your lucky stars that you remembered to put one of your new underwear sets on and you could see him practically drooling at the sight of you in your strapless lacy set.

‘You’re the biggest tease I’ve ever met in my life’ he breathed, pulling you into his still fully dressed frame and as you let out a little giggle he captured your lips again in a hungry kiss. Feeling his hands dip into the top of your underwear and grip you bum tightly as you moaned into his mouth and you swore you could have stayed there kissing him forever but you didn’t want to wait any longer for him. Reaching to the collar of his shirt so you could start undoing the buttons before trailing your fingers up his body and under the shoulders so you could push it off of him. Feeling him shiver under your touch but he just pulled you closer afterwards so he could feel your warm skin on his.

You were frantic, pulling away from him so you could focus on unbuttoning his trousers but he didn’t seem to want his lips to part from you. Kissing all over your neck and shoulders as you finally pushed them down his hips and to the floor before he hugged your thighs and threw you over his shoulder so he could take you into the bathroom and you squealed as he lifted you. Holding onto him wherever you could before he popped you down and shut the door behind him. Making sure to lock it just in case someone came in on the off chance.

The pair of you quickly rid yourselves of your underwear and walked behind the glass. Giggling like kids as you took each other in your arms so you could pick up where you left off outside the bathroom before Mason broke away, fiddling with the shower panel to make it come on so you used this time to kiss over his chest. Sneakily leaving a little love bite by his nipple before you felt his fingers thread through the back of your hair so he could tug you away and his dark eyes made your knees weak as he tutted softly.

‘Thats naughty’ he whispered, lips attaching to your jaw so he could kiss along up to your ear. ‘Turn around for me’

You did as he asked, turning away from him and walking towards the shower wall as he held your back and walked with you. Propping your hands on the shower wall as he pressed you right up against it, your head turning to the side so you could just about see him over your shoulder before his lips came to your ear.

‘Good girl, that’s it’ he mumbled, placing his knee between your thighs so he could inch them apart. One hand gripping your bum and the other grabbed hold of himself so he could guide himself in. ‘You ready for me?’

‘P-please Masey’ you breathed, hearing him groan one final time before he pushed himself in gently. Knowing there wasn’t much foreplay involved so he needed to take his time but the stretch of him felt delicious. Moaning louder than you’d intended to but the slow movement of his hips were speeding up by the second until he was pounding into you. Your back pressed firmly against his front as he laid some of his weight on you whilst his hands reached round to grab your chest. Slowly kneading your flesh before you felt his teeth ever so slightly sink into your shoulder.

‘M-Mase, fuck that’s so good’ you panted, wanting to grip onto something more tangible as you fingers were slipping on the wet shower walls so you reached behind you to grab onto him and the feeling of your hand on his lower back made him plough into you even harder.

‘Arch your back for me, Muffin’ he asked, pulling your hips away from the wall and with him a step, forcing you to stick your bum even higher in the air before his hand came to hold your waist so he could control you a bit more. ‘That's it’

‘Mase’ you whimpered, this new angle hitting even better. Feeling your knees almost give out but his strong grip was holding you up as he used your body how he wished.

‘You can take it, I know you can’ he panted, the sounds of skin slapping in skin making your brain go foggy but you knew you’d never felt like this before. ‘God you feel so fucking good’

You had no idea Mason had the power to be like this with you, to be rough with his touches yet make you tingle with his praise. You wanted to be good for him, to take what he wanted to give you and make him feel good too and from the way he was moaning and groaning behind you you had a feeling he was enjoying it just as much.

You were close, closer than you wanted to be as you were enjoying this far too much and he must have felt it as he slowed down ever so slightly before pulling out of you and spinning you so your back now pressed against the tiles.

Your eyes followed his every move, letting him hook your leg over his arm so you were more easily accessible before he was pushing back into you. Your hands settling on his shoulders so you could support yourself as his free hand held your waist.

He was taking things much slower this way round. Gently rocking himself in and out of you but you weren’t sure if this pace was better or worse for you as you felt your high build once more.

‘You’re doing so good, I can feel you wanna cum though so just let go for me okay?’

‘Okay’ you whispered, letting him pick his speed up again and it didn’t take much more for you to be tipped over the edge. Moaning his name as he still went at you relentlessly until you felt his hips stutter, a string of curse words falling from his lips before he slumped against you slightly so you could both get your breath back.

‘Was I too much? I was still thinking about you calling me sir just before and I think I just went a little crazy’ he laughed in your ear, pulling out of you with a hiss so he could pull you straight into his arms and under the running water. Your heart thumping at his sweet gesture.

‘No mase, I liked it’ you laughed, holding him around his waist as he did the same to you and you couldn’t help but mirror his shy smile.

‘As long as you’re sure?’

‘Positive’ you winked before he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You didn’t spend long in there, quickly getting washed and out before meeting Mason in the main part of the bathroom where he was sitting on the closed lid of your loo. Beckoning you over to come and stand in between his legs but as soon as your hands made contact with his skin you knew something was off.

‘Mase, your shoulders look a bit pink’ you told him. His skin feeling hot to the touch and he slightly winced as you stroked his skin.

‘Yeah they feel a little weird I think I’m a bit burnt’

‘Stay there, I’ll put some after sun on for you’ you told him. Reaching for the bottle on the side so you could apply it but you felt bad as soon as he flinched when the cold cream hit his skin so you rubbed it in as soon as possible. Feeling his muscles relax under your fingers as you massaged him slightly before he looked up at you with his big brown eyes.

‘What’s all that stuff up there?’ He asked, nodding to the shelf under your mirror and you smiled when you caught onto what he was referring to.

‘My skincare’

‘Why do you have so much?’

‘We weren’t all blessed with clear and baby soft skin like you unfortunately’ you teased, tapping the end of his nose lightly which caused him to blush. ‘Would you like to try some?’

‘Okay’ he whispered, watching you with curious eyes as you applied various creams and serums to his face. His hands holding the backs of your legs the whole time and when you were done you pressed a light kiss to the end of his nose without even thinking.

‘All done’ you smiled, taking a step back to you could reach for the after sun and start to apply it to yourself but he took it from your hand and stood behind you. Massaging it into your shoulders as you caught eyes in the mirror in front of you.

‘Do you think we need to tone it down a bit?’ You asked, picking up your cleanser so you could start on your own skincare. ‘I don’t want anyone to suspect anything and I’m pretty sure Dec’s picking up on some vibes’

‘I’ll tell him to back off, don’t worry’ he laughed, hands smoothing over your skin still even though the after sun was all rubbed in. ‘Plus if we go too far the other way they’ll be suspicious too’

‘I guess you’re right’ you shrugged, Turing in his arms after applying the last of your moisturiser before covering your face with your hands so he didn't see you yawn.

‘Aww is my little Muffin sleepy’ he teased

‘It’s been a long day’ you defended with a light laugh so hand in hand he walked you to your bedroom door and with a quick kiss to your forehead he walked across the hallway to his room opposite.

‘Oh wait’ he suddenly called, just over the threshold of his room and by the time you looked up he’d removed the towel from his body and was standing there completely naked. ‘You can have this back’ he laughed, throwing it in your direction and thankfully it landed on your head so you couldn’t see him anymore but you heard the door click and the sounds of his muffled laughter ringing through the halls.

y/n

liked by masonmount, laurenfryer_, woody_ and others

y/n yellow to make the boys say hello 💛

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declanrice yeah right you wouldn’t leave our side let alone say hello to anyone. I know your game

y/n wow sorry for wanting to spend time with my friends 🙄 won’t bother next time

laurenfryer_ don’t listen to him girl 😩 we’ve got the whole week to find you a man 😉

masonmount who’s that handsome devil in the last picture?

y/n no idea, I don’t see one

benchilwell I don’t either

woody_ neither do I

masonmount ☹️

okaylaaa girly you look delectable 🤭 like a little lemon cupcake I’m living

y/n SAYS YOU 🥹 you’re actually the cutest

conorgallagher92 Mason I think that shirts a little too big mate

masonmount it’s called fashion

y/n if you say so

conorgallagher92 good to see you in blue 😉

carlywlms_ my beautiful bestie 🥹 so excited for our week together like you don’t understand 🩷

y/n trust me I think I might be more excited than you 😭

masonsprivate hello

y/n 👋🏻🙊

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