#this took so long and for WHAT... bc i kept wanting to gif every second

[linoyes]

lee know in every skz code - ep 14-15

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[finsplurtz]

hello! may I request a subbot afab hawks x domtop amab reader?

idk what trope to pick bc I have so many ideas, but if you're comfortable with it, could it be a sugarbaby x sugardaddy reader AU? maybe with some praise and breeding?

feel free to ignore lol (love your fics btw <3)

— GUYS NEWSFLASH first time writing ftm character hahaha erm i hope i didn’t fuck this up😢😢🙏🙏 (i lvoe dis requets)

something more — keigo.takami

— dom ! male.reader x ftm ! sub ! Keigo Takami

— contents : afab ! Hawks , use of pussy cunt clit and stuff…. Sugardaddy reader , tooo much yap , hawks falls in love with u… er praising , a bit of breeding kink , u might get him pregnant actually…, :( ending..

warnings : love NOT reciprocated sowwy

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

Hawks waved flirtatiously at a guy walking by to try and get his attention, he scoffed after the guy payed no mind to him. He got a cigarette out and patted himself to try and find his lighter..where could it have gone…

he felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned to see .. you. Took him a bit but he apologized and took the lighter from your hands.

“thank you..! uh where was it..?” he nervously, struggling to light his cigarette up.

“you left it behind at the bar.” you took the lighter and lit it for the blonde.

“ah..thank you..” he smiled looking away.

“Ya know, you’re a pretty thing. I noticed you at the bar and was going to talk to you but I looked away for a second and the next, you were gone haha” you chuckled dipping your hands into your pockets.

“uh yeah sorry I was…I just needed to take in some fresh air” he seemed a bit more calmer than he was a second ago- he couldn’t get anyone else to pay his drink. that’s why he left the bar.

“mhh. well. I was wondering if maybe I could spend a night with you?” Hawks perked up and looked at you. You were….tall and handsome..you had a nice face…….

“sorry I don’t go around and—“

You held out 200$ to him, waiting for him to take it. “how ‘bout it?” you look at him and smirk.

one night..couldn’t be bad plus, 200 dollars??

“alright then, mister.” He takes the money and smiles at you.

well that’s how you met keigo. after one night you proposed the idea of being his sugar daddy and since the sex wasn’t bad at all, and you paid good money, there was no harm!

overtime you guys became very fond of each other, you weren’t just some cash pig to him, you were special. but to you…..he was sure he was just a fuck toy for you.

you weren’t that old, you had great looks so- why haven’t you gotten a wife? or husband?? a great business guy like you would’ve had someone special by his side by now.

“hey yn…would you ever want to start a family at some point?” Hawks asked. He was sat on your large couch in small shorts and a loose top.

you looked at him and flashed him a smile. “someday, but not now” you were working on your laptop, you kept typing away.

“hmm…” he stood up and walked over to where you were and sat next to you, cuddling your arm.

“what’s wrong, baby?” he hid his smile at the pet name. he shook his head and you chuckled.

the way you treated him was as if he were your special person, you always took care of him. his place wasn’t so safe and it quite frankly- disgusted you… so you insisted he moved in with you. you always paid for him, got him what he wanted, in return he’d let you use him in bed for however long you wanted to.

not only that, but aftercare was amazing. you treated him like if he were made of glass, gentle with him when you bathed him, gentle kisses every now and then. he fought the urge everyday to tell you he loved you because he knew this wasn’t that kind of relationship.

but he started to fall for you. badly. at one point he didn’t really want your money anymore, he just wanted to be there for you and for you to be there for him.

it was about to be a year since you guys started this…thing you guys had going on and he decided to be straight up with his feelings, just tell you. That anniversary or whatever, you took him out to eat like any other day and got him a couple gifts, he was extremely happy and confident things would go well. He was hoping that maybe you guys could be something more than.. this. I mean you already act like a couple! There’s no way he could be wrong..

you guys got back home drunk as hell, laughing and shoving each other around. There was absolutely no fucking way you didn’t like this guy….then again you could just be the devil in disguise

your hands roamed his smaller body while you kissed and fought for dominance. He was losing himself in the pleasure, he had to tell you he just had to..

“uh- yn wait I…need to..” you kissed his neck and sucked on it, he moaned under you and grabbed at your hair. he pulled you off and you looked at him confused.

“I just need to…t..tell…” his words started to get stuck in his throat, nothing was coming out why couldn’t he just spill it out.

“you’re so cute Kei, baby…” you sat up and removed his pants as he squirmed, propped his legs on your shoulder and kissed the inside of his thighs.

“ahh..yn p..please let mhh..~” his back arched at the feeling of your mouth on his cunt. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that made this all the more enjoyable, but he figured he’d tell you after you guys were done.

he pushed his hair back and gasped when you slid your fingers into his loose hole, all while lapping at his clit. He was crumbling underneath you, his hands pulling harshly on your hair as he squirmed and moaned at the pleasure.

“F-fuck! I’ll c..com..~” he bit his bottom lip, his lower half twitched as he came intensely, His hands letting go of your hair.

You sat up and prodded your cock at his entrance, teasing it over his sensitive clit making him flinch.

“w…wait…no condo-..mm…?” He looked so out of it and cute covering his cunt with his hand.

“what…don’t want my babies…?” you coo gently taking his hand off and leaning down into his ear.

“we’d make the cutest babies..” you harshly grab his hips and slam into him earning a scream from the younger male. He shouldn’t have found that as hot as he did, he’s holding onto you and biting your shoulder as you violate his stupid cunt.

He’s asking you to slow down as best as he can but you ignore him and continue to chase your orgasm. You almost completely stop when he whispers into your ear, an ‘I love you’.

It sounded desperate and whiny, you sit back up, not looking at his face. You look down at your dick, engulfed in the blondes pussy, you push his legs closer to his face and grab his hands, placing them on the back of his knees.

He hold them tightly, so many thoughts running through his little head.

Did you ignore him just now?

Your big hands spread his cunt and you slowly push all the way in, a stretched out whimper leaving Kei.

“Soo pretty, hon….aren’t you such a good boy for me..” you smirk to yourself, your thumb rubbing his clit gently. You grab his legs and move them aside to finally look at his face again.

His face was red and sweaty, tears running down his sad face, droll peaking out of his mouth.

“You’d do anything I asked…wouldn’t you, dear..?” You caressed his face, wiping his dumb tears away. He just stared into your lustful eyes before slowly nodding and smiling.

“Thats right, baby. Your pretty self belongs to me.” You tilt his head and begin to mark his neck as you continued to fuck into his twitching pussy.

He’s losing himself, those dumb thoughts about you not loving him still lurked in his mind. Of course you love him! You love him so much that you want to start a family with him, take care of whatever he needs for the rest of his life. He loves you more.

He’s all smiles and giggles that he doesn’t realize that he agreed to letting you finish inside him, till he feels your hot semen shoot inside of him.

His smile slowly falls, his heartbeat speeding up.

“…y…yn…?” You sit up and pull out, grinning at how your cum spills out of keigo’s cute pussy.

“what? take some pills, dear. You’ll be fine.” You kiss his forehead ignoring the tears that fell from him as he touches his tummy.

“what was it that you wanted to tell me? I’ve got something I wanna say to” you smile and lay down next to his smaller figure, he’s staring at the ceiling, you keep looking at his side profile waiting for him to answer.

“I….don’t have anything to say…” he says tiredly. He finally looks at you waiting for what you were gonna say.

“Hm..i met someone who could join us next time. He’s real cute I think you guys could really get along! Don’t worry though, kei. You’re still my favorite baby…” you smile, exhausted, you kiss the blonde one more time before pulling him into a hug.

“….what…?”

a/n; you guys rlly like hawks y’all are FREAKS (i love him more)

[livingdxadwriter]

A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else. 

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway. 

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something. 

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?" 

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though. 

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?" 

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then. 

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?" 

Her head perked up. "How?" 

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me." 

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh. 

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?" 

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned. 

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart. 

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded. 

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?" 

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes. 

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid? 

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. 

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?" 

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad. 

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place. 

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name. 

My pretty teacher. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru? 

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed. 

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy. 

My pretty teacher: awww🥰 

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment. 

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids. 

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop. 

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit. 

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing. 

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy. 

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now. 

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder. 

"Daddy, that's a no-no word." 

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?" 

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?" 

"Ass." 

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore." 

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own. 

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it. 

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example." 

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed. 

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss." 

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding. 

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy? 

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch." 

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation." 

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet. 

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see. 

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?" 

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar. 

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be." 

"Oh I bet." 

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?" 

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him. 

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer. 

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out. 

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking. 

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest. 

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?" 

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you. 

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. 

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted. 

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?" 

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?" 

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed. 

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?" 

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly. 

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants. 

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…" 

"Tell me." 

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon." 

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too. 

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy." 

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby." 

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning. 

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it." 

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time. 

"Be there in thirty." 

Fuck it. 

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both. 

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

[chsopnk]

「 ✦ MY COFFEE BLACK… ✦ 」

☆. # SHIP — satosugu x m!reader

☆. # AUTHOR’S NOTE — you work at a cat café and two guys keep coming back—but not for the coffee… or the cats. ;; requested.

☆. # WARNINGS — none! (cut bc its quite long and i dont want to clutter someones dash!)

The gentle hum of conversation and the quiet purring of cats filled the cozy atmosphere of Neko Haven, a small cat cafe tucked away in a quiet corner of Shibuya. It wasn't flashy or well-known, but for Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, it had become a regular haunt over the past few months. Every Thursday, without fail, they would slip into the cafe after work, sinking into their usual corner by the window, sipping lattes while the cats curled up around their feet.

But it wasn't the cats or the coffee that kept them coming back.

It was you.

From behind the counter, you moved with practiced ease, serving drinks with a quiet smile and a soft "thank you" as you took their orders. You were different from the hustle and bustle of the outside world-calm, collected, and gentle in a way that drew them in without effort.

"You know," Satoru murmured one Thursday evening, watching as you expertly frothed milk for a cappuccino, "I'm starting to think this place might be my new favorite. Best coffee l've ever had."

Suguru, who was longing beside him, snorted softly. "It's not the coffee, and you know it.”

Satoru leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched out under the table, a teasing smile pulling at his lips. "You think so? Maybe it's the cats. I do have a soft spot for them."

"Sure," Suguru replied, eyes flicking over to you as you handed a cup to a customer with that same warm smile. "The cats."

The two of them had known each other long enough to recognize the tension that had been building over the past few weeks. The shared glances, the way Satoru would straighten up whenever you approached their table, the slight shift in Suguru's expression when you laughed at one of his dry remarks.

They didn't talk about it, but it was there, unspoken but understood.

It had been Suguru who noticed you first, the quiet bartender who seemed to carry a sense of peace in every movement. Satoru had followed suit not long after, his curiosity piqued by your composed nature, so different from his own chaotic energy. What had started as friendly teasing between them quickly became something more complicated.

The bell above the door chimed as the last customer left for the evening. You were wiping down the counter when Satoru stood up, slipping off his sunglasses and tucking them into his pocket. Suguru followed him, quieter, more thoughtful, but his dark eyes flicked over to you with a warmth he rarely showed to anyone else.

"You're here pretty late tonight," you said, smiling as they approached the counter.

Satoru shrugged. "We like the quiet."

"And the company," Suguru added, his voice low but sincere.

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you didn't look away, meeting their gazes with a soft chuckle. "You two are flattering me again."

"Can you blame us?" Satoru leaned against the counter, his bright blue eyes glinting mischievously. "We wouldn't keep coming back if you weren't the best bartender in Shibuya."

"Second best," Suguru corrected with a small smile. "But only because you refuse to let us help."

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and they couldn't help but share a look. The tension that had hung between them for weeks felt like it was about to snap, but neither of them was sure what would happen when it did.

"You're here enough," you teased, setting a clean cup aside. "Maybe I should put you two to work."

"Careful," Satoru said, leaning in slightly. "We might take you up on that."

Suguru glanced at him, then back at you.

There was something different tonight, something in the air that hadn't been there before. He felt it, and judging by the way Satoru's smile softened at the edges, so did he.

Your hands stilled for a moment, eyes flicking between the two of them. You could feel the weight of their attention, the unspoken question in their gaze. It wasn't just about the café, and you knew it.

"I like the company too," you admitted softly, a small smile playing on your lips. "It's nice to see familiar faces. Especially when they’re as interesting as yours.”

Satoru grinned, but it wasn't his usual teasing smirk. It was softer, warmer.

"Interesting, huh?"

You shrugged, leaning against the counter now, close enough to catch the warmth in Suguru's eyes and the way Satoru's fingers drummed lightly on the wood between you.

"You're good company. Both of you."

Suguru's gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between the three of you.

There was an understanding in the quiet, a shift in the easy banter that had marked your conversations before. It was something deeper now, something real.

Sator broke the silence, his voice gentle in a way that was rare for him. "We were thinking... maybe next time, you could join us. After your shift."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across your face. "Join you?"

Suguru nodded, his voice calm and sure. "For coffee. Or something else. We don't mind."

You felt the warmth spread through your chest at the invitation, your heart beating a little faster. It wasn't just coffee they were offering, and you understood that. There was a connection here, something that had grown between the three of you in the past weeks.

Suguru nodded, his voice calm and sure. "For coffee. Or something else. We don't mind."

You felt the warmth spread through your chest at the invitation, your heart beating a little faster. It wasn't just coffee they were offering, and you understood that. There was a connection here, something that had grown between the three of you over the past weeks, something that felt more solid now, more real.

"I'd like that," you said softly, meeting their eyes.

Satoru's grin widened, and Suguru's lips curved into a rare, genuine smile.

"Good," Satoru said, stepping back from the counter with a wink. "It's a date, then."

As they left the cafe, the bell chiming softly behind them, you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered in your chest. The two of them had been regulars for weeks now, but this felt different. The cafe was still, the cats curled up in their usual spots, and for the first time in a long while, you found yourself looking forward to something more than just another quiet evening behind the counter.

And when Thursday came around again, you knew they would be there, waiting. For you.

[retromotherfuckers]

Violet Eyes, Red

Pairing:

rhysand x reader (pretty sure it's gender neutral - there might be a "she" i missed while referring to you from the original draft bc second person pov is not how i write)

Summary:

you and your mate reunite after feyre defeats amarantha and this is the fallout of what the bitch did to him.

Warnings:

aftermath of SA - i can't really tell if it's graphic which tells me it is, loose description of a panic attack, PTSD, please let me know if I missed anything. guys, please, if these topics are triggering for you, don't read this fic. i am not responsible for your media consumption, but i also don't want to throw you headfirst into your trauma.

Word Count:

2,140

A/N:

literally broke my own damn heart with this one. rhys' trauma is so ignored and that needed to be rectified. rhys might be my second favorite bat boy, but he's still a lil baby who needs to be protected

dividers by @strangergraphics

The human girl had beaten her - the woman of his nightmares - once and for all. At the first moment he could, Rhysand winnowed. After fifty years, he knew there was only one place he could go. After all, it was the last Sunday of the month, and that Sunday was the day he and his mate reserved just for themselves. The High Lord and Lady would not conduct any business on that day.

You'd spend most of your day on the balcony. You'd serenade him with the piano. You'd fly around Velaris - creating patterns in the air. You'd cradle each other in your arms. He'd sketch out a new drawing - trying and failing, in his opinion, to encapsulate your true beauty.

One day, he broke that promise, that vow you had made, and went to what he thought was a simple trade meeting. That morning was the last day he saw you, and he still couldn't live with himself.

Those memories alone kept him breathing at times. When Amarantha stole his bed, his body, his hope.

Then the human girl showed up, and he tried to help her. Wanted to give her what she needed to beat the beast he didn't think he'd ever escape. But he had lost the will to pray for it. To the cauldron, to the Mother Above. Despite his pessimism, she persevered. The girl had won. And then he was free.

He was on the balcony before he could even think about it. After a quick glance around, he realized it was empty. At first, he felt a pulse of disappointment, but with the realization of how long it'd been, he breathed deeply. How could he expect you to keep up the tradition? Fifty years of solitude on those Sundays would have made him mad if your roles were reversed.

At the thought, he allowed himself to feel the mating bond. It had gone cold the moment he winnowed away all those years ago, but now it was as beautiful as he remembered. The pull of another person at the end of a tether, forever binding them in the purest forms of fate.

But he heard your thoughts, and he almost broke down in sobs at the sound of your voice in his head. Please come home, my love. I don't know how to do this anymore. Please. The last word, you were begging. Your inner voice, the one he had to get used to living without, was broken. Pleading for him to return - despite everything you'd probably heard.

And with that, he took action, winnowing to every room in the house so he would find you as soon as possible. He knew you were close; your scent wasn't stale. It was fresh, clinging to every piece of furniture you owned together.

It was the last room he checked, his office, where he found you. You sat in his desk chair; the leather more worn than he remembered. But the sight of you stopped him from rushing to you. Nursing a bottle of wine, you slouched on your elbows, hands in your hair, as more thoughts streamed through the bond.

I'm losing myself, Rhys. I don't know how much more of this I can take. I can't let myself believe you won't come back because that- that will ruin me. What she's doing to you, what she's making you do. I don't even know a fraction of it, but I can't stop it. I- I can't protect you. And I hate myself for it. 

He was watching you as you sent the words down the bond, the bond that had been desolate for half a century. You run your hands down your face, not looking up from your wine, the third of many you planned to drown in.

Just get through it. Please just- just survive. Do what you have to do to come home. I'll be here. I love you. My mate.

You'd only allowed yourself to talk to him once a month. Initially, you would try to send him something every day. Thoughts, images, songs you'd learned, prayers for him. You never heard anything back, and it slowly started eating away at you. It shattered your hope every time you didn't get a response.

You'd heard the rumors, Amarantha's whore, he'd been called. Every time you heard it, it ate away at you more and more. As if he would choose that - choose to warm the bed of another when you were waiting for him at home. You knew him better than that, and you winced at the thought. He wouldn't choose it, but would she force him? Was she that much of a monster? 

You had to shake that thought away for the thousandth time that night, downing the rest of the glass. As you reach for the bottle, nearly empty at that point, a hand wraps around your wrist. The touch is gentle but firm - stopping you from drinking more, but not rough enough to hurt. Instead of startling at it, the wine slows your instincts. You can only stare. The tattoos on the dorsal side interweave into vines under the sleeve. Vines you know, vines that you've held, vines that have and will continue to have free rein of your body.

Faster than you thought you were capable of, your eyes flew to its owner's eyes. Violet. The most ravishing violet. Violet you'd feared you were forgetting.

With a new urgency, you pulled yourself to your feet, your hands flying up to his face without thinking. One on his cheek, the other on his neck, pushing, pulling, grabbing, unsure if it was your mind playing tricks on you.

In your desperate touch, you missed the way he flinched.

His hands. Mother Above, his beautiful hands were on your neck too, placed at the sides. When your mind would play you for a fool, it would never let you touch him, let alone allow him to reach you. But there he was, and you could feel him. You tugged at the bond, finally noticing it was warm and delicate and sweet and serene and everything you wished you knew how to describe. 

He breathed your name, barely a whisper. "I'm home, my darling. I'm home."

"You're here." The words barely escaped you, and you couldn't stop the tears. He didn't hesitate a moment, pulling you in for a frustratingly rare and fierce embrace. You clung to each other for dear life, tighter and tighter and tighter, like he'd disappear if you let him go. Frankly, you weren't convinced he wouldn't. "You're really here."

You stood like that for a while, holding each other, when he ultimately pulled away first. "Rh-Rhys, don't go-"

"I'm not," he promised, his voice raw, kissing your forehead. He took in every inch of your face. "I just wanted to look at you. My mate."

Since Rhys had been freed by the human girl, nothing had been normal. Not that you expected it to be, but you didn't anticipate just how awful a recovery for him would be. He couldn't share your bed, and you didn't mean that in a sexual manner. He couldn't sleep with anyone else in his room - if he had even been sleeping at all. He could barely stand to be touched. You knew he wanted to be able to let you, but every time you seemed to blink, he would flinch.

You had suspicions about what went on under the mountain, but you had no idea it would be so evil.

He stood before a cabinet, staring blankly into it, lost in a memory - a memory he'd been refusing to share. You understood why, but something in you told you that you needed to see. Not just for curiosity's sake but to know how to help him. Even if it was past your pay grade.

"Rhys," You called quietly for the second time. You didn't want to touch him, shock him back to reality. The fear of that setting him off more held you back. With a harsh and sudden breath, he fearfully glanced at you and around the room, forgetting where he was for a moment. "You're at home, Rhys. You came home."

"I'm sorry," He rasped, ignoring your words. His hands pulled at his hair, and you were nervous he'd start ripping it out. He backed away from you, so far away he was caught by the wall. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Your own formed at the sight of his tears, but you couldn't conjure up what he'd have to apologize for. "It's okay, honey, you're safe. It's okay."

"I didn't- I didn't want it. I swear on my life, I didn't want to."

You shook your head, not understanding. But you knew asking what he was apologizing for was the wrong thing to do. You could see it, the shame, the regret, the blame. "I know you didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut, buried his face in his hands, and sank to the floor. He kept murmuring apologies, pleading for your forgiveness. "I betrayed you, you have to- you have to leave me."

His words shocked you, and now you were the one that flinched. "Rhysand, look at me." He visibly shrunk at the command, pulling his hands away from his face. "As far as I'm concerned, anything that happened...there...is the furthest thing from your fault. I know there are things you can't tell me, and that's okay. I'll be here when you're ready-"

"I can't!" He bellowed. "You'll never forgive-"

"Show me the memory." You demanded, your voice quiet but assertive. But you wouldn't push too hard if he was adamant about keeping you out. You knew. You knew. Based on the way he had been acting, what had happened. But you also knew he needed to show you. So someone, fucking someone, would tell him it was out of his control. He couldn't govern everything, even if he was the High Lord of the Night Court. The words hurt as they left your lips. "Because I can promise you that I will."

You weren't a daemati, but you could see him battling with himself. Debating, if showing you what really happened, would bury him deeper under the surface or pull him back up for air.

Eventually, he released a rare sob and a barely audible "Okay."

He showed you the first time, how he just laid there like a statue as her hands took everything for herself. Then, the fifth time, when she started demanding he respond, pretend he wanted it. Then, the eleventh time, when his body started reacting. Then, by the next time, he had stopped keeping count.

He showed you, whether he meant to or not, how he prayed for it to end, prayed for someone to rescue him.

How he had been praying for you.

With the confirmation of your theory, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying and failing to hold back the tears. The angry tears, wishing you could've been the one to rip her throat out. Tears that enraged you because that was not Tamlin's kill. Furious tears because that wasn't even your kill. Devastating tears because your mate not only had to play a character for so long, but he had to endure being called her whore. Like he had any fucking say. 

Overwhelming tears because your mate was in pain and there was shit all you could do about it.

"Can I touch you?" The question shocks him, but he nods without thinking, confused at the request. You slowly lift your hands to his cheeks, brushing away his tears with your thumbs. "There is nothing for me to forgive you for. I know you didn't want to do any of it."

"But I-"

"Bodies respond to stimulation whether it's wanted or not. It's how we work." You explained slowly and carefully, keeping direct eye contact. "You forget, sweetheart. I can hear your thoughts when you show me a memory."

"I've-" His voice caught, putting his hands on your wrists, rubbing them up and down your arms until they got hot. "I've been so scared. That it's still happening. That all of this is going to go away, that she's not really gone, that I'm not really here, and this is just another tactic-"

You shake your head, finally pulling yourself together to say what you've wanted to say for weeks. "I swear on my life that I will never let anyone hurt you like that again. I will spend eternity protecting you from her and anyone like her. And if you forget that this is real, just ask me. I'll tell you."

His eyes darted between yours, furiously blinking. Violet eyes, red. Pleading craving begging praying.

"Is it?"

[chuckmaider]

Those F*cking Polaroids

So, I saw Dinner in America recently and I don't know what just happened but it occurred to me to do this.

If you saw the movie you'll understand and if you didn't see it it doesn't really matter and its not really necessary bcs only part of it is based on the movie.

English it's not much frist language, pls sorry for any kind of error.

The Riddler/Edward Nashton x obsessive! gn! reader

Summary: Reader meets Riddler while browsing the Internet and becomes obsessed with him and his plan to unmask the city, and... Maybe send some curious Polaroids after hacking his address.

Warnings/tags: Obsessive behavior, address hacking, a bit of humiliation kink (reader), tall reader (like 2 o 3 cm more than Ed) , weird reader, creepy reader, obsessive reader, a little bit of dom! Reader Sub! Eddie, Eddie is weird too, prob autistic reader(?) and I so sorry but this si so Out of Character Eddie (idk how to write him I'm sorry 😭), I feel like this is kinda boring so uhm at least the beginning es very boring but um it's very long too i think soo Im sorry idk, we need more insane reader

I met The Riddler when I saw a video of him on some strange Internet page that I was on, it was one of his first posts and the beginning of his...career. At first I was just curious about what he wanted to do, we both had a lot in common about what we thought of the city, both of us were abandoned and discarded by those who claimed to take care of us, to look out of us, to give us a better life. Over time I started to see him more, I made an account and saw him on his page, sometimes, very rarely, I would comment on my opinion about what he said, and he really seemed to notice me.

I can't really say when I started to obsess about him, I guess from first moment that I saw him, something happened to me and that's why I kept seeing him.

I felt something, I felt something, I felt something when I saw him, and I think that's what led me to... Take this further. I didn't feel much, not because I was insensitive, I could feel, but nothing was really that exciting or interesting to capture my attention enough to make me feel anything. I work in a coffee shop, it's small, but sometimes fun things happen with customers, but not enough to keep me amused or not bored for the rest of the day, but there's one customer in particular, who comes almost every day, asks for a cappuccino, a pumpkin pie and sits for hours with a notebook to write. Sometimes I keep looking at him longer than necessary, it's interesting to know what might be going through his head, or what things he'll be writing about.

I was sitting watching the news on the small TV in the cafeteria, it was just me and the usual customer, he was, as always, writing things in his notebook. They were talking something about the Mitchell boy, a guy running for mayor of the Gothic City, just like everyone making empty promises, talking shit and more shit.

"This is crap, he should kill himself quickly and then maybe there will be a real change in this fucking city” I whispered thinking that no one would hear me, I took the remote control and was going to change the channel, but a voice stopped me “wait, I want to listen” it was lucky that there was no more noise than the TV and a few cars passing outside, otherwise I wouldn't have heard the low voice that spoke. I turned to look at him and left the control at the inn “do you support that shit?” I asked him, he looked at me for a few seconds and shook his head “no, of course not, he should kill himself for real change” I looked at him for a few seconds, and without saying anything I gave him a small smile. We didn't talk again after that, a new customer arrived and the old one left, I kept my eye on him as he left, and I could see how he sent me one last look and continued on his way.

After work I returned home and prepared for what was coming, today The Riddler (as we called it) would be live at night and I wanted to see it, but I had some things planned to do first. I studied programming for two or three years, I didn't finish my degree thanks to my lack of money and motivation, but I learned enough things to be able to do what I was going to do. Some would call me immoral, sick, or maybe call me a crazy and obsessed freak, but I wasn't interested right now, it never did. I took my computer and started, went to his page and copied the link, continued to go to other forums, writing codes and finally after a good hour I was able to locate his address (or at least that of his computer), I must say that he was quite protected, it cost more than other times, but I succeeded. I smiled when I saw the small bright spot on the screen, which indicated the exact place where his (I assume) house was right now, I didn't plan to know his identity, of course, I wanted to know who he was, but my plans were different.

I put on my clothes, exactly like his, and waited for the live show to start. I took my Instant Camera and left it aside from the computer. As I listened to his voice I could feel my body starting to warm up, I twisted myself a little in my chair and kept looking at him. After 10 minutes, i was hot enough and I started. I lowered my hand and put it under my pants and underwear, let out a sigh and tilted my head back, continued stroking, rubbing and I felt my climax approach, I accelerated my movements and with my free hand I took the camera and took a photo at the time of my ejaculation, waited for the photo to come out and throw it aside, I took my shiny hand out with my cum and took another photo of it, making sure that it could see the computer with the live one.

As the live went on, my breathing calmed down and I smiled excitedly. I could still feel my face warm because of the blush and the moisture of the sweat on my body “this is for you, Riddler...” I thought as I watched the screen. At the end of the live, he said goodbye to everyone and I closed my computer, took a notebook and wrote the Letter I had planned to send him along with the Polaroids

𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘪𝘳𝘥, 𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵

𝘐 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘳𝘢𝘻𝘺, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦.

𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶,

𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘶𝘯,

𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,

𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸.

𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧.

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬.

I kept the Letter together with the Polaroids in a dark green envelope, closed it and saved it for sending tomorrow.

This became part of my routine for months, I wrote him letters, sometimes poems, other times I told him about my day and other times I told him my ideas and plans that he could use to unmask the city. Watching one of his lives, I could notice at one point that he had some Polaroids stuck on the wall, they weren't noticeable enough, but I noticed them.

In those months, I began to talk more with the customer who frequented the cafeteria, his name was Edward, I was never good with names, but I could remember his. We were quite similar, and even if neither of us really talked about their private life or past, I could tell that we had common opinions and other similar tastes, such as music. We were both part of a religious choir, my family was extremely religious and they put me in a church choir, which I left one day, the day I escaped from them. Edward loves riddles and all that kind of thing, he's really good with numbers too, riddles stressed me out, but numbers and calculations always helped me, as did technology. Edward was intelligent, he knew a lot about a lot of things, I didn't, but I liked to hear him ramble and digress about everything he wanted, I liked to hear him and feel that he could teach me, or easily humiliate me in anything he wanted, I studied programming and yet he seemed much wiser on that subject than me

Over time, I started to have some new feelings, feelings for Edward, at first I thought they were friendly, for being my first friend in years i was just excited, but I noticed things, I started to notice too many things in him, and I couldn't help but want to be with him, not as a friend. One day when I asked him for his number, I picked up his phone and quickly installed software and connected it to mine, it had his location and I could see everything he was doing on it, and although I know that there's no justification, I thought “it's to protect him, it's quite naive...” or so I thought. I didn't spend all my time seeing what I was doing or if I was talking to someone (which I didn't really do, I didn't talk to anyone but me)

After work I used to follow him, a part of me couldn't really get to his house, but I always saw him, constantly. I was so enthralled with him, too much, that it started to become painful. Edward, My Edward, was too much for me, everything I felt for him. I started compare him with him, with the Riddler, and I realized things that maybe I shouldn't have done. Looking at his address, I finally noticed his house was in the exact place where the Riddler lived, but it couldn't be him right? Even so, he couldn't know him either, he told me he lived alone, and I know he didn't lie to me.

While I was still with Edward, I continued to fall in, his way of talking, of thinking, of moving, his way of living with others, his hair, his eyes, his lips, his glasses. Everything about him had me trapped, entangled in him, and I didn't want to leave. Obviously, I hadn't forgotten Riddler, but he was different, I couldn't see him or feel like Edward, yet I kept sending him letters and photos, I was still his faithful follower.

I needed to know, I needed to know if what I knew was true, if all these months of research and incredible stupidity had worked, and in fact, Edward is The Riddler.

I warned at work that I was sick so I wasn't, I knew that Edward was at work and that, if my theory was correct, no one would be home. I went up the emergency stairs and saw his apartment, it had white curtains and the window opened easily, I suppose that when we are together I could fix it to make it safer, any freak could come in and do who knows what things. I could see when I was already inside, a large mural with everything related to Batman, the Waynes and Gotham City, I had a small computer in the inn and it was all quite messy and dirty, and full of papers and notebooks. I heard the jingle of the cage that was on the other side of the room and I saw that there were some rats inside, very good Edward, I won't judge your hobbies but I really wouldn't like to live with rats. I saw what the bathroom was like and it was quite dirty, it had empty pill bottles and in the corner there were some dirty clothes. Whether I took a shirt or not is not important. Finally I ventured to what would be his room, and even though his whole apartment was shouting The Riddler at me, I needed one last confirmation, being someone's most private room, I assumed that if Edward really was who I thought he was, everything should be there. I opened the door slowly and the first thing I saw was the large green fabric with the question mark in the middle characteristic of Riddler's fund of his lives, my breath was cut short for a moment and I felt as if I could ejaculate right now. It was him, Edward was, Edward is, the Riddler.

Then I saw them, I saw all of them, the Polaroids, the photos that I sent him together with the letters, each and every one of them in a space on the wall, attached to one side of his bed, there were some separate ones, marked as Favorites, he kept them, he stuck them, he really had me on his wall without even knowing that it was me.

I stayed for at least fifteen more minutes in his room, until I decided it was time to go, not before leaving a small hidden camera, just in case. That same night I couldn't sleep, after watching Riddler's live and knowing who he really was behind that beautiful mask, it could be said that I enjoyed masturbating too much watching him, the Letter was quite intense, demonstrating my devotion and love for him like never before. The next day I was still quite shocked but I knew how to hide it, until Edward, the Riddler, My Edward arrived... When I saw him I became more nervous than I usually would, not out of fear, no, of course not, I was ecstatic, my face burned just thinking about him and having it in front of me it felt as if I had just opened an oven and all the heat would come from it. “Hello Edward, the-the usual?” I asked him, feeling how my voice trembled very slightly “yes, thank you” He told me and sat in the inn in front of me. While I was preparing his coffee and taking out the piece of pumpkin pie I could feel his gaze on my back, burning and burning so exquisitely, I loved to feel his attention on me even though I was almost always the one who had his attention on him all the time, not because he wouldn't pay attention to me, but mostly I let him talk, and I contributed everything I could, but I loved listening to him too much to interrupt him. “Here, your coffee and your pie, it goes around the house, you don't need to pay anything” I said as I handed him his coffee, Edward looked at me surprised “what? -No, it's not necessary..!” ireplied, My Edward is so thoughtful. ”Don't worry Eddie, nobody here cares too much” I tell him and let out a giggle, I look at his eyes and notice that he relaxes, smiles and thanks me, proceeding to drink his coffee and eat his pie.

“Edd, would you like to come to my house today?” I asked her suddenly, seeing the surprise in her eyes, I could see her plump cheeks turning red and I smiled internally when I saw her reaction “you-your house? - I-i don't wanna bother you" he said "you could never bother me Edd, all these months and you don't know it?"

“Sorry, yes, but Uhm.. I have - I have some things to do and I really don't think I can go, I'm sorry” I could notice the nervousness in his voice which made me smile and want to play with him a little more "Come on, they can wait a day” I could see how he frowns and tried to disguise his surprise “what-what? Th-they what?”

"The work, silly. That's why you have to go home right? I know your type of job and they always leave a lot to do even after you finish everything” I could see how he visibly relaxed and the tension was leaving his body. “Yes, I suppose it can wait a little...” he smiled shyly at me. I told him to wait for me for a while since my work ended at 7 (what was in about fifteen minutes)

We walked for about twenty minutes until I reached the door of my apartment, “you know Edward, I've wanted to tell you some things for quite some time, I want to” I start talking as I open the door of my house “I did my homework and I was really surprised by the result, you know?” I let out a laugh, i still don't look at him as I entered the corridor and I locked the door “just in case, there have been some robberies around here” I say calmly, he looked at me confused just a few steps away from me. I looked back at him and finally dropped the “I know who you are, I know you're the Riddler” bomb.

“Who are you?” He seriously asks me “don't worry Eddie” I smile mockingly “I won't do anything to you, nothing you don't want at least” Edward takes only two steps towards me but immediately retreats as I approach him “don't even try anything Eddie, it's my house, I know it better than anyone” I walk slowly to him seeing how he goes back to girls with the wall next to the door that leads to the living room. Being close enough to feel his breath on my face, I start talking, “you know, I dreamt about this more times than I should, but before it wasn't you, well, it was you, but I didn't know it. Fantasize about the Riddler more times than you have done about destroying the city and its corruption. Later, I met you, we start talking and I could obsess with someone with a real face and name, but then... They were never two people were they? Just two personalities, Edward and Riddler” as I spoke I could feel like all their attention was on me, our eyes never disconnected until I approached him and whispered softly in his ear “but between us, we both know what the real one is, right?” I returned to his eyes, and for the first time it was me who kept talking, all too excited confessing to him. I took his shoulders and guided him to the door next to him, turned him around and made sure that his back would rest on me and let his eyes see all of my room, where everything related to Riddler and Eddie was, each of the points I connected and some photos I took without him noticed it “after a quick visit to your dirty apartment, I was able to confirm every single thing you see there, the Riddler was, in fact, my Edward” I squeeze his shoulders, and my voice breaks slightly thanks to my head, supporting my head on his shoulder and looking at him sideways, seeing his reaction to everything, I smile more broadly, I could confidently say that It's going to hurts my cheeks if I went on like this more time. “You, little mouse, were the cause of my obsession for months, and not only the Riddler, but also like Edward and, I swear, finding out that they were always just you, everything increased at least a hundred times more” I walked up to him, now looking at me again “Edward, Edward Nashton” I put my hands on his blushed cheeks “everything you see there is for you, And more, all the insane things I've done since I met you I did them for and for you, I am completely yours from the moment I found you, and oh God, seeing how you kept and pasted those Polaroids that I sent you was like getting to heaven, seeing that you really saw me without even knowing who I was makes me squirm in my bed like a teenager in love. You didn't know it and you already missed me”

Eddie put his hands on my hands that supported his cheeks, and spoke for the first time in minutes “it was always you, the one with the Polaroids..? Were you always the one who wrote all those letters to me? For Riddler?” she asked softly looking into my eyes “of course it was me, of course it was always me, Eddie” I smiled at him big time. "You don't- you don't know how those Polaroids affected me, what they did to me... You don't know how much those Polaroids worked on me...” the intensity in his gaze could cross walls if he could, but in me it only pierced my heart “oh Eddie-” without being able to finish, I felt like Edward kissed me intensely, melting at his touch I let myself go, I felt his teeth hitting mine thanks to the hardness of the kiss, his tongue entered my mouth and with pleasure I let him do what he wanted with me, his hands came down from mine to my waist and they hugged me tightly, I let out a moan through the feeling, his mouth and mine, his lips and the Mine, his tongue and mine are twisting, Edward let out a moan when he felt my pelvis hit his, being able to feel his growing bulge in his pants.

I took his hands and slowly raised them up my body until I left them on my shoulders hugging them, instead I lowered mine and tucked them under his jacket and t-shirt, feeling their quality leather. I slowly went up and down my hands all over his torso, squeezing his skin on my hands, feeling like Eddie let out small gasps in the kiss.

After a hot session of kissing and touching as a result of an intense declaration of my love for him, we were lying on my bed, staring intently at each other without saying anything, too busy keeping every detail about each other to talk. “Edward” I call him in a whisper, getting a “hum?” on his part “this isn't a dream, is it?” I asked him, “if this is a dream, I wish I would never wake up” and he answered.

Hello! This is the first fic that I will publish here on Tumblr, I don't know if I make it constant but if you like the way I write (which I doubt because I myself feel that it is quite bad, especially since it's not in my language)

I feel like the ending goes by very quickly, I'm sorry it's 1am and ik tired, and I'm also sorry for the very likely OOC! Edward, I'm not very good at capturing the essence of a character already created unless I created it hehrjee I'm sorry

Even with all that, I hope that if you finished it and it didn't bored you, you liked it and you can make any suggestions and/or corrections to me, I don't know if I'm taking request or something, but you can still send them to me and I'll see if I could do them:)

[aller-geez]

hii, saw your last reblog, the bronchitis scenario, and now i need a svelex fic/art about it 🙏🙏

Hey there Nonny! Okay I literally love you sm for this req, bc usually I don’t write dramatic fics, (and granted, this might not be exactly what you were looking for, but I digress…)

But oh my god, this is definitely my favorite Svelex fic to date, although @thekinkyleopard may disagree whenever she comes back and reads the 300 fics I’ve written since she’s been online 😂

It’s not technically a snzfic cause the prompt was about bronchitis, but definitely very whumpy at least •⩊• so I hope you enjoy it!

I also was so excited to post it that I didn’t really draw a cover, I just slapped some text on a gif so there’s that ˙ᵕ˙ 2.5k words

⤹ The prompt nonny is referring to is this one ⤸

This was supposed to be a kind of a follow up for Live, Laugh, Lose Consciousness found here, but doesn’t actually have any context so do with that what you will~

Elex had never been good at handling emotions. Anger? That was easy. Frustration, violence, resentment? Second nature. But this—this tight, twisting feeling in his chest as he sat on their couch, cradling S7en’s overheated, miserable body against him—this was something else entirely.

The kid was burning up, fever pressing into Elex’s skin through the thin, sweat-damp fabric of his hoodie. His hands, calloused and rough from years of fights and harder living, felt clumsy as they adjusted the nebulizer mask over S7en’s flushed face. The mist curled out from the edges, visible in the dim glow of the TV’s silent menu screen. He didn’t know how long they’d been sitting here, but his legs were going numb under S7en’s weight—not that he gave a shit.

The wheezing was bad. Worse than bad.

Every breath S7en managed to pull in rattled through his lungs like broken glass, thick and wet and wrong. It was the kind of sound that made something animal deep in Elex’s gut tighten in instinctive dread. This was bad. Too fucking bad.

S7en stirred against him, whimpering softly in his sleep before a cough wracked through him, convulsing his thin frame so hard Elex had to tighten his grip to keep him upright. The coughing fit went on longer than it should have, deep and raw, until S7en made this awful little sound—like he was drowning. Elex clenched his jaw, shifting his mate just enough to rub slow, grounding circles against his fevered back.

"Easy, dumbass," he muttered, voice lower than usual, almost gentle. “Breathe through it.”

Not that S7en had much of a choice.

His breath hitched weakly, another wheeze scraping its way out before he slumped heavier against Elex’s chest, boneless and exhausted. His head lolled to the side, cheek pressing into the crook of Elex’s shoulder, mouth falling slack with hoarse, congested snores that were barely distinguishable from his wheezing.

Elex swore under his breath.

This was not just bronchitis anymore. He’d seen S7en sick plenty of times—hell, the guy caught everything like a damn sponge—but this? This was the worst yet. Every inhale sounded like a battle, and every exhale took just a little too long to come.

Elex wasn’t a doctor. Didn’t know shit about medical stuff, other than how to patch up a knife wound or pop a dislocated shoulder back into place. But he knew what it looked like when someone couldn’t fucking breathe.

His fingers found their way back into S7en’s sweat-drenched hair, combing through the tangled mess with slow, deliberate motions.

“Geezus fuck,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “You really don’t do shit halfway, huh?”

S7en whined softly in response, shifting just enough to bury himself further against Elex like he was seeking out his warmth. Elex let him.

He’d let him do whatever the fuck he wanted, as long as he just—kept—breathing.

The badger was out of his depth.

He could handle a lot—had handled a lot. Fights. Crime. The constant weight of hiding who he really was. But this? Watching S7en struggle just to breathe in his arms, his chest barely rising before another wet, strained wheeze forced its way through his lungs—this was worse than any fight he’d ever been in.

The nebulizer wasn’t helping. The mist curled and dissipated into the thick air of their apartment, but S7en’s breathing wasn’t getting any easier. If anything, it was getting worse.

Elex gritted his teeth, eyes darting down to the weak rise and fall of his boyfriend’s chest. Too slow. Too shallow. Every inhale was a war, every exhale a desperate, failing attempt to clear the congestion that clung like tar in his lungs.

And he wasn’t winning.

"Hey." Elex shook him gently, trying to rouse him. "S7en. Wake the fuck up."

Nothing.

S7en barely reacted—just a sluggish twitch of his ears, a pathetic little whimper as another round of coughs rattled through his fragile frame. His head lolled heavier against Elex’s shoulder, burning hot and damp with sweat, his body boneless in a way that sent a bolt of pure panic through Elex’s chest.

No. No, no, no. This was bad. So fucking bad.

He pressed his fingers against S7en’s ribs, feeling the sharp, stuttering way his breath refused to move properly, how his body worked too hard for air that just wasn’t coming.

"Fuck," Elex hissed under his breath, his grip tightening.

He should’ve seen this coming. The second that fever started climbing, the second the wheezing didn’t ease up after the first treatment—he should’ve done something. But he’d let S7en convince him it was fine, that he’d been through worse, that he didn’t need to go to the damn hospital.

And he believed him.

Like a fucking idiot.

Another strangled noise clawed out of S7en’s throat, half-cough, half-miserable gasp, and his body jolted weakly against Elex’s chest. His breath hitched. Then hitched again.

And then—stopped.

For one horrific second, there was silence.

Elex’s blood ran cold.

"Sven—!"

A choking, rasping inhale suddenly tore through the quiet, and S7en shuddered hard against him, sucking in air like a drowning man breaking the surface. His hands jerked where they were limp in his lap, weakly gripping at Elex’s hoodie like he was trying to ground himself.

The breath wheezed out of him in a shaky, half-conscious moan of pain, his chest rising in uneven, frantic movements as his body fought violently to breathe again.

"Shit, shit, shit—stay with me, kid, come on—" Elex muttered, shifting to get a better hold on him, his own heartbeat a rapid-fire thud in his ears.

S7en was barely clinging to awareness, his lashes fluttering against fever-flushed cheeks. His lips, normally some shade of cocky smirk, were pale—too pale.

Elex had seen enough.

Fuck stubbornness. Fuck whatever argument S7en was gonna put up when he got dragged into the ER. They were going.

Now.

With an iron grip, Elex hooked an arm under S7en’s legs and lifted him like he weighed nothing—because right now, in this state, he did.

S7en groaned weakly at the sudden movement, head lolling against Elex’s shoulder. His tail, usually flicking with irritation or mischief, just hung limp.

Elex’s jaw clenched.

"Yeah, I know," he muttered, adjusting his hold as he strode toward the door. "But you don’t get a choice, kid."

And with that, he kicked the door open, disappearing into the cold, night air, S7en burning fever-hot against him the whole way down to his car.

Elex barely registered the sound of the car door slamming shut behind him as he maneuvered S7en into the passenger seat. His grip was too tight, too urgent, his fingers digging into S7en’s burning skin as he wrestled the seatbelt across his trembling frame. His breathing was still so wrong—fast and shallow, like his body was trying to compensate for what his lungs refused to give him.

“Stay with me, kid,” Elex muttered under his breath, fumbling with the belt buckle before finally clicking it into place. S7en didn’t respond. His head lolled against the window, his fluffy ears twitching slightly but otherwise unmoving.

Elex didn’t like that. He didn’t fucking like that.

His breath was coming fast, sharp through clenched teeth, but the only sound he was really hearing was the wheezing. The sick, labored pull of S7en's breath, like a fucking broken accordion barely holding together.

“Fucking hell,” Elex snarled under his breath, slamming the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame before bolting around the hood of the car and throwing himself into the seat. The keys shook in his hand as he shoved them into the ignition—too hard—the metallic clang echoing through the car before he twisted them with a forceful jerk. The engine roared to life, but Elex barely heard it over the pounding of his own heartbeat.

A string of curses tumbled under the badger’s breath as he slammed the gear shift into drive and tore out of the driveway, the tires shrieking as they lurched forward. He wasn’t supposed to be driving, but fuck that. Fuck everything.

He wasn’t about to let this stupid, stubborn cat die on him.

His hands were white-knuckled on the wheel. His eyes kept darting between the road and S7en, glancing over every few seconds to make sure he was still breathing.

His chest still rising? Yeah. Okay. Fuck.
But how long could he keep that up?

"Just hold on, S7en," Elex muttered, foot pressing harder on the gas. "We're almost there."

S7en had been so still, so out of it, that when he suddenly sucked in a sharp, shuddering breath and jolted forward with a strangled choke, Elex nearly swerved off the road.

"Geezus—!"

S7en gasped again, curling in on himself, his orange ears flattened completely as his claws scrabbled weakly across the fabric of his seatbelt. His breaths were shallow, coming way too fast, way too wrong.

Panic.
He was panicking.

"Hey, hey, hey—Sven—!" Elex reached over without thinking, resting a firm hand against S7en’s chest, feeling the uneven, frantic rise and fall beneath his palm. "You're okay. You're alright, just breathe, babe. Breathe slow."

S7en blinked blearily, his pupils blown wide in the dim glow of the dashboard. His chest stuttered with another ragged breath before he whined, soft and miserable. "Elex…?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got you," Elex said quickly, eyes darting back to the road for a split second before locking onto him again. "We're going to the ER."

S7en’s expression barely shifted, but the little furrow between his brows made Elex know the argument was coming before the hoarse words even left his mouth.

"’m fine," S7en rasped, his voice barely audible over the sound of the road beneath them. "Don’t need the—"

"Bullshit."

The word came out sharper than he intended. But Elex was done pretending this was fine, that this was something they could just ride out.

S7en flinched at the tone—then slumped back into the seat, squeezing his eyes shut.

He tried again, weaker this time. "Elex—"

"You can’t breathe, S7en."

Silence.

S7en coughed, a horrible, wrecked sound that rattled through his frame and left him panting for air. When he finally opened his eyes again, something had changed in them.

Realization.

Defeat.

And finally—reluctant, unspoken acceptance.

Elex swallowed hard. His grip tightened on the wheel.

S7en didn’t argue again.

Elex was driving like he stole the damn car, which—okay, he had stolen plenty of cars in his life, but S7en’s wasn’t one of them. Still, right now, it felt like he was outrunning something worse than the cops. He was pushing the speed limit, weaving through empty streets with white-knuckled fists, but no matter how fast he went, he couldn’t outrun the rasping, strained breaths coming from the passenger seat.

S7en’s head lolled against the window, his half-lidded, fever-glossy eyes barely tracking the streetlights as they flashed by. His mouth was parted, sucking in shallow gasps of air that weren’t nearly enough, and Elex could hear the congestion rattling thickly in his chest. Every breath sounded wrong. Too much and not enough at the same time.

Elex tried, just once, to lighten the mood. “Y’know, you bitch at me for my driving, but you’re real quiet right now,” he muttered, flicking a glance over at S7en in the dim glow of the dashboard. “Guess that means I win.”

It was meant to be teasing. Just a distraction.

But then S7en let out the weakest huff of amusement—and it shattered into a coughing fit so violent that his whole body pitched forward, his spine arching against the seatbelt. His face went red, scarlet, as he gasped and choked, his shoulders trembling with the force of each ragged hack. The sound was awful, wet and shredding, like it was scraping raw against his lungs.

“Shit, breathe—” Elex yanked one hand off the wheel, blindly reaching over to rub circles into S7en’s back as he choked. It wasn’t doing anything. It wasn’t helping. Elex gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Almost there, kid, just hold on—”

They skidded into the ER parking lot a minute later, Elex slamming the gear into park without even turning off the engine. He whipped around to look at S7en, bracing for a complaint about his driving, about whipping the car around like it was some GTA getaway.

But S7en didn’t say anything.

He just slumped weakly against the window, his usual sharp, Cheshire grin nowhere to be found. His pupils were blown wide, dazed from fever, his breaths shallow and barely moving his chest.

That was not right.

“Fuck—no, fuck that—” Elex was out of the car in a flash, yanking S7en’s door open and hooking an arm around his waist, practically hauling him out of the seat. S7en barely reacted, his legs almost folding under him the second he was upright. His tail drooped, heavy and limp, barely twitching.

That scared Elex more than anything.

He half-carried, half-dragged S7en through the sliding doors of the ER, his heart slamming against his ribs. As soon as they stepped inside, the nurses at the front desk immediately jumped to action.

“S7en? Again?” One of them—Lillian, maybe?—was already reaching for a nebulizer before Elex could even say anything. “What are we working with this time?”

“Bronchitis—maybe pneumonia, I don’t fucking know—” Elex snapped, gripping the back of S7en’s hoodie so tight his nails almost tore through the fabric. “He’s burning up, he can’t breathe, he—”

“We’ve got him.”

That was the only thing they had to say before taking S7en out of his hands, guiding him toward a room like this was routine. And, fuck, it was routine. S7en was in here so often that nobody even blinked. They just got to work.

Before Elex knew it, he was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair beside S7en’s bed, watching the nurses slip a nebulizer mask over his boyfriend’s face.

The first few minutes were tense—S7en sat there, glassy-eyed and swaying, chest still rattling—but after a while, the mist started working its way into his lungs. His shoulders slumped, his body slowly unwinding, like his muscles had been clenched so tight for so long that he forgot how to not be in pain.

Elex sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, staring at him in silence. Just waiting. Watching.

S7en’s ears twitched first. Then his tail. Then his orange eyes—bleary, but focused—flicked toward Elex, catching him staring.

“…y’look like you’ve seen a ghost,” S7en murmured, voice still wrecked but a little stronger.

Elex scoffed, raking a hand through his green hair. “…Yeah, well. You weren’t exactly breathin’ a few minutes ago, dumbass.”

S7en blinked slowly, processing. Then, to Elex’s absolute horror, his lips curled into a soft, lopsided grin.

“Worried about me?”

“No.”

S7en hummed, tipping his head back against the pillow, eyes slipping shut. “Liar.”

Elex didn’t dignify that with a response. He just exhaled, leaning back in his chair, his shoulders finally losing some of the tension they’d been carrying for hours.

For now, at least, S7en was breathing.

Elex would deal with whatever came next.

The end 🖤

[silverflqmes]

you are legit my favorite ffvii writer at the moment dude. if you feel like it, do you think you can write smth about being childhood friends w zack and reuniting with him one day? make sure to take care of yourself 💕 :)

໒⦂ 𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆.

notes. HELP YOU’RE SO SWEET ANON??? IWOWJDJDK i haven’t written as much yet and i still have lots to learn but that really warmed my heart to hear 🥹🥹🥹 i decided to combine this with another request, i hope that’s okay with you both!<3

genre. fluff + angst

disclaimer. tifa speaking on cloud can either be platonic or romantic — whatever you wanna think just don’t start up a whole ship war bc it’s embarrassing as hell. obviously this is a zack fic so focus on zack smh.

zack fair x gn!reader.

“you’re.. leaving for SOLDIER?”

you shouldn’t be shocked, that was the last thing you should have been since you had been the one to encourage his decision.

and yet.. why did it hurt? you had known that it would, it was only naturally — but not like this.

zack averted his stare from the star blanketed sky, smiling solemnly. “sure am. you helped me realize that becoming a hero is something that i should do — that the world needed my kind of help.. so that’s,” he paused, allowing the evening breeze to shift his dark bangs. “exactly what i gotta do.”

you fell into silence for a moment, pursing your lips together as you considered his words.

it had been your crush’s dream from young, since seeing sephiroth on propaganda and hearing of his endeavors, to become a hero. the life he’d led in gongaga was wonderful, peaceful.. but you knew, deep down, he’d wanted to make that name for himself. that zack was.. meant for greater things.

and you, torn between your feelings for him and the need to encourage him as his best friend.. had no choice but to put aside what you felt to urge him to embrace his dreams.

when he received no answer, the raven haired teen took it as a sign to continue, leaning back on his elbows. “as of now, you’re the only one i’ve told about my decision — cuz well.. as you know, my parents aren’t super chill with it.” he laughed out, shaking his head. “so i’m gonna leave tomorrow night. got everything packed up already, a letter ready for them to pass on and i’ll be good to go!”

“tomorrow night? so soon?” you nearly interrogated him, only to respond with a slow nod. “you have my word, don’t worry about it.” should you tell on your friend? would that keep him just a little while longer if his parents knew and prevented his departure? would he hate you for it and finally give you a reason to stop feeling this way about him?

no.. you couldn’t live with yourself if he had hated you. that was practically death served on a silver platter, your heart would never start again if zack had expressed contempt for you.

for a second, longing flashed in his eyes before he allowed himself to grin, patting your back gently. “you’re amazing y/n!! i knew i could count on you no matter what! i’ll be sure to bring you something real nice from the big city!! and that’s a promise!”

a smile that didn’t quite meet your gaze etched itself onto your lips as you let out a hum of agreement. “you’re the amazing one, zack. i’ll..” miss you. “..be holding you to that promise, so you better keep it.”

three years passed and no sign of zack. the promise stood, but remained unfulfilled.

you should have expected it, that becoming a SOLDIER meant never seeing him again. you knew he was alive, a letter would have come if he wasn’t, and his parents kept you posted thankfully.

yet, there was still an emptiness you felt in his absence. every year, you’d told yourself that perhaps maybe, he would come home to visit this time.

now, having turned eighteen, you had decided to leave the comfort of gongaga as zack once had, and journeyed to nibelheim — a village in the mountains. it was small, quaint as your hometown was, perhaps colder, but after being offered a job through your parents, it called to you.

your mother had been from nibelheim and met your father in midgar — who had left gongaga to pursue a career in research as she had.

despite their retirement, they had developed many connections.. one of which, had been in the mountain village.

when you pleaded to leave and join up with your friend in the city he’d left for, your parents had urged you not to, and were strict on it.. as though something had been terribly wrong there.

you’d never asked why they retired so early on, and just assumed they had wanted to settle since they’d made their money.

but it didn’t.. fully seem that way.

“didja hear y/n? there’s a group of SOLDIERS coming down here tonight. ahhh, i hope cloud is there — i haven’t seen him in years.” your companion and guide sighed out, pacing about idly as you jotted down notes on your observations of the terrain.

tifa had been a friend you’d made upon your arrival. she was a year younger, but a real go getter and great help on your expeditions. in the beginning you worried for her safety, stringing her along as you did — only for her to protect you from the perils you feared.

you’d have to ask if that mentor of hers was willing to show you a move or two on self defense.

“cloud, huh? is he in SOLDIER, too?” you had told the girl before you already about your old buddy, as there was no possible way of her exposing your feelings for him.

and honestly, it was comforting to confide in someone for a change.

she nodded eagerly at your question, smiling softly. “he should be, it was his dream to become a SOLDIER, like sephiroth — that’s what he told me one day before he left.. and he’d promised to always protect me, no matter what.”

your writing seemed to pause at her comment, head lowering as you willed yourself to chuckle despite your anguish. “is that so?” zack, as you recalled, had dreamt of the same. “well, i hope he comes home safe if he’s a part of that group.” you smiled a little, closing your notebook before standing up from your crouched position.

“that should be enough for today, thanks for coming along again — i think i’m almost there with reaching my conclusion on this strange increase in mako spillage on the landscape.. but i just- can’t seem to put my finger on it.” you muttered, knitting your brows together before casting a glance over at mt. nibel- the highest point of the area you had moved to. “whatever, they’re keeping in that reactor.. there’s something really off about it.”

the burgundy eyed female followed your gaze before humming absentmindedly. “yeah.. i’m hoping those guys coming today might know or at least clean up over there.. i’d hate to see what might happen if the pollution intensifies down here.” she answered softly, helping you up before looking ahead. “for now, let’s get back — it’s almost sundown.”

at the mention of the visitors on their way from midgar, your thoughts went to your old friend, but you reprimanded yourself quickly. you would not have hopes again — as they only ever existed to get shattered and turn into despair.

and yet.. that one percentage asking but what if, remained.

the sun had drowned into billowing clouds, a shade of golden casting over the scenery as you walked beside your friend, exhaustion creeping up on you. however, you reminded yourself that the descent was always easier than the ascent.

“and we’re back, thank you for taking the tifa express way~” your travel partner giggled, earning a smile in return from you. she always had a way of brightening the mood with her optimism. kind of like.. nevermind.

the brunette looked around when she found the villagers gathered in the centre, adjusting her hat with a pout. “did we just miss them? i didn’t think we would be this late..”

you copied her actions, letting out a sound of contemplation. “maybe they turned in, midgar is a long way from here.. i’m sure they wanted to just take things easy for the night and start off fresh tomorrow.”

tifa paused for a minute to think before letting out a sigh and nodding. “i guess you have a point — tomorrow, then.” she smiled again, holding out her thumb. “i’m gonna be their guide, i’ll make sure of it!”

you rolled your eyes in amusement before nudging her with your elbow. “whatever helps you sleep at night, tifa.. i’ll catch you in the morning, in that case. i still gotta sort some things with information i picked up today.” a trip to that mako reactor and your research might at last be complete. perhaps.. you could convince the group in bringing you along- especially if your friend would be going.

it was the perfect in!

“mhm, see you in the morning, y/n! don’t be up all night doing that work of yours if you wanna wake up on time!”

with those parting words, followed by a wave, the female dressed in orange walked towards the direction of her home, eagerly greeting her father at the door before joining him inside.

your shoulders fell, a low exhale escaping your lips as you adjusted your backpack. and just like that, she was gone.

you made your way into the inn you’d been staying at for the time being, rubbing your eyes.

it was a temporary arrangement, given you hadn’t fully decided yet if you would be staying permanently in nibelheim. however, the living accommodations worked just fine.

you hadn’t thought yourself difficult to please, anyway. so long as you had the necessary essentials needed to live, all was well. that was what you’d learned growing up in gongaga.

entering the inn, you greeted the host before ascending the steps, pausing when you caught sight of a towering, silver haired.. male? unless a woman could stand at nearly seven feet.. and across from him, stood.. no — had your eyes deceived you?

“z-zack..?”

the conversation between the pair, whatever it had been about, came to a full stop as they turned to face you, shock painting on the face of the SOLDIER with the darker hair.

“y/n..??” he spoke up incredulously, blinking over at you as his jaw fell just slightly. “no way- what’re you doing here.. in nibelheim of all places? i thought you were-”

“in gongaga?” you asked with a small smile before shaking your head. “my parents found me work here, so i moved just a few months ago. never thought i’d see you here, before returning home, no less.”

zack could feel the coldness of your words, piercing through him like icicles tipped in poison. pissed was an understatement.

the taller behind him smiled awkwardly before moving towards his door, not wanting to be muddled into the affairs of his triend. “i believe you both have some catching up to do.. i will see you in the morning, zack.”

the boy in question parted his lips in protest, but the cat-eyed male was gone before he could do so. damn!

awkwardly, he turned to meet your awaiting stare, swallowing thickly.

“sorry, i’ve.. had a lot going on.” he confessed, lowering his head in shame. “i wanted to come home sooner — especially after making first class just recently- but things.. everything that has been going on as of late at shinra, it’s been really messed up.” zack confessed, clenching his fists at his side before letting out a glum chuckle. “and it just keeps getting weirder.. what were the odds i’d find you here of all places?”

you leaned against the window, folding your arms as you gazed out. “close to none. i guess it’s a thing of fate, maybe.” you offered, sliding your eyes back to his zircon ones. “seems my parents were right to not send me to the city with whatever ‘messed up things’ that happened.”

the SOLDIER nodded, allowing a brief silence to pass before smiling. “they probably were, yeah.. don’t think you would have liked midgar much, anyway. it’s all gross and industrial looking.. although!” he blurted suddenly, perking up as though he’d remembered something. “wait right here, i’ve got something i want to give you!”

you rose a brow at his random burst of energy, reminding you that despite the change in his appearance, the development he had gone through.. he was still your zack, and that wouldn’t change.

he disappeared into his room before you could answer, rummaging by the noises you’d made out, which had you shielding your mouth with your hand. “don’t get lost in there, now.”

“like i would!” he laughed before emerging from his quarters, holding out a messily wrapped box for you. “no matter where i went, i always kept this with me, thinking that maybe- just maybe, i would pass through our hometown and find you to hold up that promise i made to you. finally,” the spiky haired SOLDIER paused, grinning brightly. “i was able to fulfill it!”

you blinked in surprise, taking the package into your hand as you felt your face burn despite the coldness provided by the high altitudes of nibelheim. “you.. remembered?”

appalled, zack let out a gasp of offense. “remembered? how could i forget?? a promise is a promise, and i intended on keeping it!” he huffed out before raising his fists before him in excitement. “now come on, open it!!”

overcome with a sudden happiness, to know you hadn’t been forgotten despite the negative thoughts you’d created, you opened up his gift to you with earnest. a glimpse of green entered your vision as you quirked a curious brow. a plant? no.. zack wasn’t the type to keep plants.

finally removing the top completely, you stared down at the present before stifling a laugh into your forearm. “you- you got me a cactuar.. stuffed toy?” you spluttered in surprise.

of course he did — it was zack for goodness sake..

“sure did!! ya like it?? it looked authentic when i saw it in the window!” he answered proudly, placing his hands on his hips.

you continued laughing, unable to contain yourself as you held your stomach. “it’s so random- but that’s.. that’s just like you to get me!” you wiped a tear, allowing a smile nearly as bright as his, or perhaps- even brighter for a change, to replace your initial frown. “i love it a lot, but.. you wanna know what i love more?”

a mixture of interest and excitement sparked in his eyes as he inched closer, eager to hear. “what? what is it??”

having caught your breath, you closed your eyes, holding the plush close to your heart. “being here- reunited with you, again..”

like an invisible string, knots and tangles had appeared in the thread that connected you both. however, it wasn’t impossible to unravel and detangle that which connected you both, to allow an opportunity of reunion.

( even if it was the right place, but sadly.. the wrong time. )

notes. bittersweet open ending cuz well.. it’s nibelheim- anyway, i hope this was okay! i think my writing style kinda changed.. scary. oh well! the support these last few days have been much appreciated<3 tysm you guys, hearts out to you fr<3

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

[headfullofpresley]

Welcome back to tumblr, Tam! I wanted to see if you’re taking requests and if you are…could we see 50s!El giving the reader a facial and maybe he accidentally cums in her eye.

Idk that would be some funny shit…😂

hi nonnie, thank you so much! decided to make this into a blurb even though i never write blurbs (simply bc i always get carried away lol), but i love this idea! i'm a sucker for the funny, mundane shit. hope you like it! 💗

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝

Word count: 858

Warning(s): strong language, handjob, facial, elvis cummin' in your eye.

“Faster, faster, oh fuck- faster, baby..” Elvis grunted as he stood in front of you, feet planted firmly on the floor of his bedroom, head thrown back as his lips were parted. His chest was heaving up and down heavily, the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening letting you know he was close to falling apart. Usually, you knew that at this point, you’d have to put his cock in your mouth to let him paint the back of your tongue white.

You were a good girlfriend like that.

And you were an even better girlfriend for agreeing to his idea of having him cum on your face. After all, he just came back from his two year long stint in Germany and you had missed being intimate with him so much that you didn’t even protest to this naughty little fantasy of his.

You were completely focused on the task as your hand was moving faster and faster, ignoring the slight ache in your wrist. What was about to come made you determined and while this had been Elvis’ idea, you were curious about it too. He always brought out the naughty and wild side in you and every time you had sex with your boyfriend, you were completely swept up into the moment.

“Shit… Little, y-yes,” he grunted as he looked down at you, quickly replacing your hand with his own, continuing your work. You took it as a sign to get ready and sat there all pretty on your knees, hands placed on your thighs. He grunted as he panted heavily, mumbling something about you having to close your eyes but you were too eager and lost in the moment to register his words. You barely had time to register them to be quite frank, because in a matter of seconds, warm spurts of cum landed on your face and your eyelashes fluttered in a reflex.

You wanted to see the whole thing happening, but that probably wasn’t the best idea.

As some of it managed to creep into your left eye, you didn’t even have time to cuss at your boyfriend for having some of his cum land in your hair, because you felt as if your eye was on fire. Letting out a panicked shriek, you squeezed your eye shut and covered it with your hand. Elvis didn’t notice it at first, until he saw you sitting back on the floor and fanning your hand in front of your closed eye, too scared to open it.

Elvis, unfortunately, didn’t have the time to admire his creation on your face as he saw the state you were in. Kneeling down next to you, he gently grabbed your chin and looked at your face. “Baby, are you okay?”

You glared at him with one eye, grasping the tissues he held out to you he got from the box on the bedside table, shoving him away. “You came into my eye, you idiot!”

Elvis sat on his knees opposite you, putting his hands on your knees as he watched you rub your eye with the tissues for a second. He should be worried, and he really was worried, but he couldn’t help but to see the humor in it. You looked at him as he let out a roaring laugh, managing to slowly open your assaulted eye, which was red and teary.

“I t-told you.. told you to close your eyes!” Elvis stuttered as he laughed hysterically, and laughing even harder as you gave him another shove and he fell back on the floor. You wanted to be angry at him and give him a hard time, but it didn’t take you long to be laughing just as hard as he was.

“I’m never doing that again!” You told him after the two of you had calmed down a little and your eyes didn’t sting as much anymore after Elvis had inspected it and kept a damp washing cloth against it, while also cleaning the rest of your face.

“Don’t say that, baby,” He grinned as he smothered your face with kisses, ignoring how he could still taste himself on your skin a little. “’S not like you’ve gone blind, now did’ya?”

“Well, sure felt like it!”

He laughed his contagious belly-laugh again and wrapped his arms around you, getting off the floor and rolling in between the sheets on the bed with you. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and in between your legs again, grinning down at you. “I’ll make it up to ya real good, Little,”

“You better,” You smiled at him as you trap him in your embrace by wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, keeping him close against you as he leaned down and kissed you.

For the rest of the night, he made it up to you.

Again, and again, and again.

And every time, he made sure to be mindful of your left eye, kissing your eyelid lovingly as he reminded you how much he missed you when he was away in Germany for those long two years.

taglist: @powerofelvis @breadsquash @generoustreemystic @ab4eva @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @notstefaniepresley @ellie-24 @dollksj @webbedwebs @re3kin @wivette @eliseinmemphis @18lkpeters @rosepresley @ccab @whatstruthgottodowithit @dkayfixates @livelaughelvis @lettersfromvenus @elvisalltheway101 @that-hotdog @robinismywife @jaqueline19997

[ohhxdile]

So first off, LOVE YOUR WRITING STYLE!

I was wondering if you could write a Sam Sulek x Female reader fic about them basically having dinner/ hanging out like on a date?? You can choose whether it’d be NSFW or not. Thank you so much!

a date sounds nice ? ♯ os

pairing; sam sulek x fem!reader

જ⁀➴

wc: 1296

warning: smut, p in v (no condom bc its sam), fluff, body worship, reader is a slut

a/n: so sorry if the request took so much time, but here it is ! ! never give me heads up w "you can choose if its nsfw"

જ⁀➴

You couldn’t get off your phone, nerves wrecking waiting for his phone call or a text. A few hours ago, you had the courage to ask Sam out on a date. Of course, you were scared of his reaction but he agreed and now here you are, waiting on your bed alone in your dark bedroom.

Changing your mind, you got up and left your phone on the bed, searching through your wardrobe, fingers grazing. A noise quickly followed the silence, making you shriek in fear. Running for the ringtone, you answered the call. “Yes! Hello?” On the other line was a voice very recognizable, “I’ll be here in 30 minutes” checking the clock you counted how long you’d take to get yourself ready, cursing in your head “Okay see you!” You hung up, rushing to get everything done by now.

One last time you checked your outfit, hair and makeup. Your cheeks started to heat up from anxiety and eagerness, desperately wanting to see Sam tonight. Just like the universe heard your mind someone knocked at your door, you went to open the door and saw him. Dressed up, but no hat. You were taken aback by this missing accessory that he always wear. “Take a picture, it will last longer” You chuckled and followed him behind.

The restaurant was pretty nice, the ambiance and looks were pretty fancy. You did feel out of your comfort zone, Sam chose the place, and you couldn’t deny the offer. Eyes scanning through the menu you heard someone talking to you, instinctively your head raised itself but your eyes followed later, you were met with Sam face, raising one eyebrow. “I’m sorry, you said something? I wasn’t listening” A hand was hiding the smirk that grew on your face, embarrassed that you didn’t listen. “I was asking if you found something to your liking?” You nodded and told him, he searched for a waiter and asked to order.

Since It was the bulk, Sam ordered a very high calorie dish, not a care in the world if the amount might scare a lot of other fitness influencer. He could take way much scarier and bigger. You took a simple thing but enjoyed, savored every bite of it. Sam kept you in news of what happened during the long times that you two didn’t get to share together because of the distance. You listened to him so dearly, a smile wide enough to reach your ears by how happy you were to hear his voice and be with his presence alone. Nobody to disturb us or to ask him questions.

Throughout the night Sam hand grazed yours, he didn’t dare to fully settle down his massive palm on your hand. It did nothing to calm your nerves and desire for him, legs bouncing up, pushing yourself deeper in your tight heels. Possibly Sam made those approaches on accident because of how pretty tiny the table was, he took most of the frame with his massive physique, and it may or may not give you a misconception of proportion to the table, or everything else surrounding him.

Evening was great, you enjoyed each hour, minutes and even seconds with the man you loved. Tension began to rise between you two, Sam holding your hand while walking with you. “So the date was a good idea?” He laughed and that warmed your heart and you clutched his hand tighter. “Couldn’t say any better” Your eyes were locked on the sky. Not noticing that he was directly staring at your face, you abruptly felt it, eyes burning holes onto your sides. Peeking at your side, you saw Sam looking at you, with fuming desire. Your head went down, searching for distraction by how flustered you were by the tiniest interaction. “Want to come back to my place perhaps” His voice broke your chains of thoughts and you instinctively nodded.

Now here you are, panting against his ear as he attack your neck with kisses and bites. Bruising your delicate skin, his strong hands gripped your butt, holding on to dear life. Your fingers ran through his chestnut messy curls, you’ve never felt this excited towards him, you did have a slight crush on him for a long time since you’ve met him. What’s happening right now was many of your secrets fantasy about you and Sam, that’s why you can’t stop or push him away.

You moaned next to his ear, stomach burning with desire and impatience, wanting Sam to reach down there with his hands. He detached himself from your neck and glared at you, eyes blown off with lust, panting with hunger. Your hands reached for his shirt and hastily stripped off his body, ogling at his pecs and abs. Your mouth drooled by the magnificent view, your hands touching every crease and hard muscles. Everything was defined and well-sculpted on him, something was catching your eyes like a shiny jewel and you wandered further until you noticed it. His costume pants seemed to be very tight in his crotch area, you licked your lips. Sam hand went back to your butt and fondled it. You squirmed against your seat and took a breath of courage to reach for it and squeeze slightly, you heard a low hiss coming from Sam’s mouth. “Fuck yeah… You can play with it” It was the only signal you needed to unfasten his pants and reach for his cock, his sheer sized shocked you and burned your core. It was big, long and pretty heavy against your hand.

“Can… Can I suck you” Your words made him blush from your boldness, he agreed, watching you very closely has you got on your knees. You opened your mouth and took the tip inside, he tasted heavenly. His fingers surrounded your head and gripped harshly so he could push you to go deeper. “Don’t worry, just go a bit deeper” Your eyes watered a bit from the outright size, his sweetness invaded your whole throat and you happily accepted it.

Bed creaking loudly against Sam harsh thrust, he destroyed your pussy and didn’t hold back. No mercy was given to you, mind foggy and a grumbling, moaning mess underneath him. You let him take you however he wanted, no. Pleaded him, well, you didn’t remember. The only thing that crossed your mind was your walls were being abused by his manhood, your climax was taunting you close by. Hands reaching for balance, scratching his shoulders to bring him closer to you as you asked him to twist your guts. “Fuck you’re close, huh? Yeahh” The heels of your feet punched against his lower back, vision fogging and euphoria hit you like a train. You felt your legs spasm and shaking as the build-up of pleasure ripped through your sore body. Sam’s hips snapped even faster and harder, tip abusing your poor cervix. You thought he wanted to kill you by how animalistic he was with your body, his groans and grunts were finally audible, he was close too. “Y-Yes, please give it to me baby!” He succumbed to your pleading and his thrust became sloppy and with one final push, he came inside you. Not thinking twice about the fact he had no protection, he couldn’t care less since he’s inside the woman he loves dearly.

He lifted himself off from you, releasing you from his heavy body to pant hard next to you. “I can’t believe we fucked…” You chuckled and nuzzled your head onto the crook of his neck, breathing in his natural odor. He hugged you tightly, kissing your cheeks. You’re glad he accepted your date offer and this lustful night finished like this, beside the only Samuel you ever loved fully with your heart.

[roronoagem]

Maybe Kid finding himself falling for a fem reader who is like the total opposite of him? Maybe more shy/ laid back and soft spoken. She's taller (5'8") and broader for a girl, so she's never really felt the stereotyped feminine/ sexy and doesn't think anyone's interested in her in that way. She's always been seen as one of the guys, cussing and being interested in their hobbies.

characters: eustass ‘captain’ kid

content warning: fem!reader, shy reader, kid is prob out of character bc i genuinely have seen him for like mere seconds every time he came on screen at this point in the anime (currently on zou lmao) so pls go easy on me.. pretty much fluff & prob nonsense, not proofread.

a/n: this is fr one of my worst pieces, i would ignore it if i were you guys + first time writing for kid, i’m scared, and i’m very intrigued by his character. a friend of mine said he’ll be more present in wano arc? i hope so hm. i’m sorry it took me so long & hope you’ll enjoy it anyway !! <3

now you know that pic of the pink barbie house next to the black dark one?

okay. this is the kind of opposite we’re talking about.

i genuine believe kid would be more of the aggressive type when approaching things while you are more calm and understanding.

doesn’t know how he fell for you, don’t ask him.

it just happened.

he gets all flustered when he’s around you so he would start raising his voice and try his best to keep his composure, acting cool and such.

too bad his face is flushed red.

now, from your point of view kid is just messing with you.

no one would find you that attractive and ask you out, that’s what you keep repeating yourself.

so of course at first you kindly refuse his advances and leave him standing there in confusion.

“what the fuck–?”

yeah, makes no sense.

kid doesn’t give up, cause you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, he wants you by his side and he’s gonna do his best to make it happen.

he thinks your height makes you even hotter, he likes tall girls and believe it or not, he thinks you’re really sexy.

man he wanna kiss you so bad.

everyone can see that you two are opposites, but he doesn’t care.

since he kept asking you out, when you finally accepted he was so used to your rejection that he answered with a “yeah, better luck next time” and already turning around to leave, rolling his eyes.

it was a surprise for sure, but he was so happy you finally accepted he made sure you wouldn’t regret it.

a genuine smile spreading across his lips !!

i think it would be a balanced couple by the way, you’re calm and he acts a bit calmer too now.

still swear every two sentences but whatever, he can kiss you whenever he wants now so it’s fine hehe ^_^

[stinkysam]

Serge “Frenchie” - Live without me.

Warning : puking, codependency (?), violence

Genre : angst

Synopsis : “heyy, hope you're alright! I was thinking of some Frenchie (and M!reader) angst where Frenchie kind of abandoned the reader to protect him but he left without any words and years later they find each other and possibly the reader has to eliminate him (possibly bcs he's in the seven or maybe just a hitman or something) and maybe a good ending?” - anon

Reader : male (he/you)

A/N : I kinda liked it but I kept reading it and losing focus, making me re read it again and again so now I hate it but I hope you don't !

Frenchie had many regrets, and some of them concerned you. Though he did not regret leaving you to protect you, believing it was the right thing to do, it's the way he did it that weighed on him. He had given you hope before shattering it.

He had stayed the whole night with you, drinking and smoking on the floor while talking about nothing and everything.

The TV played some old action movie while you took a drag of your joint and shared your plans for the future. A future with him.

It broke his heart to hear about them, knowing what he would do later. But he could not change his plans. He had to leave without you.

“And we'll stop by Marseille. For a few years. To like- find jobs and a house with a garden maybe or a small flat, I'm not set yet. And then we'll leave for a grand voyage around the world for a year. Or maybe we'll do that before going to Marseille, I don't know.” You stopped to think and Serge took the joint from your fingers with a smile while you looked at the TV.

You moved your hand to your mouth to take another drag, only noticing now your joint was between Serge's lips. You smiled and took it back before going on about the jobs you could have.

You were so into it, so focused on your plans you had him hooked. Letting himself imagine a life with you without all the murders and smuggling. A peaceful life, undisturbed.

And when you were sitting between his legs, head falling back on his shoulder as you slowly fell asleep, Serge moved side to side, rocking you quietly as he rolled himself another joint, smoking it until you were fully asleep.

He cautiously moved away, placing a pillow under your head and gathered his belongings. He watched you for a few seconds, savoring his last moment with you before planting a kiss on your forehead and walking out, glancing at you one last time as he closed the door to disappear.

You woke up confused, looking for him everywhere. It's Little Nina who told you Serge had paid for your freedom alongside his with one last mission.

You had to beg her to know where he went and when you arrived at the target's place, everyone was already dead and Serge long gone, leaving you alone with no leads to find him.

You didn't know what to do, feeling scared of this freedom he offered you. You hesitated to keep working for Little Nina, too afraid to face the unknown alone.

You vegetated a week in your flat, replaying your last moments with Serge, hoping he'd come back and say it was just a bad joke.

You slowly began to resent him.

He had abandoned you, leaving you in a world you feared to face alone, after making you believe you'd stay together.

With each passing day you hated him a bit more, yet you couldn't help but look for him, wanting him to apologize and explain himself.

You finally left for Marseille, and spent your days and nights outside, hoping to cross paths with him. You had spent years there, stuck, not wanting to leave just in case you might find him tomorrow. You even got in contact with every smuggler in the city before finally giving up and leaving.

You hated him.

You got to America, wanting to start fresh, away from Marseille and the thought of him.

You got hired in the Vought tower, at the security department, spending all day behind a computer to find new targets for the supes, telling them where to find an attacker's hiding spot or their identity.

At first, you hoped to see him on your screen, you even tried to look for him. Without much success there were too many people on your screen everyday, all day.

Until Translucent died and Mesmer entered in contact with Homelander, giving him the pictures of the group who killed him.

You couldn't believe it, there, on the screen of your coworker, Serge with his numerous aliases and different faces.

You quickly asked for a sick day after forcing yourself to puke loudly in the trash can next to your desk and as you left you told one of your coworkers to update you on their position. As soon as you reached home, you grabbed your gun and your knives before driving as fast as you could to the motel they were staying at.

You approached their room, the blinds were closed as you stood by the door, gluing your ear against it to listen.

You recognized Serge's voice as he spoke to someone. Your blood was boiling. You wanted to yell and cry. He was alive. You breathed out, regaining your composure.

They were two.

No- three, but the third one was in the bathroom, which seemed to annoy the second person.

You cocked your silencer and placed the muzzle against the door, ready to fire, your eye by the peephole as you knocked and waited for anyone to look through it.

The voices quieted down as you heard someone approach the door and as soon as you saw light through the peephole you fired and took a step back to kick the door open.

As you got in, you briefly saw Serge on the floor, screaming in pain, blood spilling from his stomach as a broad man jumped on you, tackling you to the ground, your gun falling out of your hand. You reacted quickly, grabbing one of your knives trying to free yourself from the man, but only managed to give him superficial cuts.

A woman came out of the bathroom, helping Serge sit up before going to help the man on you. He moved down to hold your legs, stopping you from kicking him, your knife stuck in his shoulder as he screamed in pain. You grabbed a second one to protect yourself from the woman but she was faster.

She grabbed your hand, and stepped on it, using all her strength to break your fingers still around the handle of the knife, forcing you to let go of it. You let out a scream and Serge’s head shot up as he looked toward you. Was that your voice ?

“[Name] ?” He said before quickly trying to crawl toward you to see your face.

The woman stopped, her foot now on your wrist to still hold you down, looking at him with a confused expression. The man on top of you did the same, letting you grab another knife with your other hand, smaller.

You threw it as soon as Serge appeared in your vision, too fast to properly aim, cutting his cheek and ear and planting itself in the ceiling. The woman grabbed your other hand, and was about to break it until Serge stopped her.

“Frenchie ? You know him ?” The man finally asked.

He could not believe it, nodding. He took a step back, shocked. Before getting closer. You tried to fight your way out of their grip, wanting nothing but to claw his face as tears began to blur your vision. But they held you tightly, not letting you go.

You screamed in frustration tears welling up in your eyes.

“Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici ?” He asked, approaching slowly, wincing, leaning to place a hand by your cheek. You moved your head away, not wanting him to touch you.

“A ton avis, connard.” You replied, spitting on him. He closed his eyes as your spit came in contact with his skin. He waited a second before wiping it off.

“Tu m'as abandonné, ouai ! Tu m'as laissé tout seul après m'avoir fait croire qu'on allait rester ensemble !”

“Mais pourquoi ?” He frowned. “Je t'ai libéré.”

“C'était pour ton bien ! Je voulais pas t'emmener vers le fond avec moi !”

“Je t'ai cherché pendant des années !” You yelled, managing to get out of their grasp to throw yourself at him, hands by his throat.

The man and woman quickly moved to grab you again and pull you away, but Serge waved them off before placing his hands on yours, letting you strangle him. You wanted to scream in pain as you forced your broken fingers around his neck. Your tears fell on his face as you squeezed his throat, stopping his breathing. You could feel his quick pulse, his legs moving under you, trying to not fight you as you heard him choke.

He didn't want to take you down with him ? But there was no down as long as you were with him. Hellish or peaceful life, you didn't care as long as you were together. But he had left you, alone and unable to enjoy yourself without him.

“Je suis désolé.” He managed to croak out, close from losing consciousness.

You sniffled, more tears falling, you could barely see a thing, your heart sinking. One of his hands shakily moved to your face, wiping your tears away.

With a sob you cursed and let go of him, letting yourself fall on top of him as he breathed loudly, coughing.

You could not kill him.

He slowly wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as you cried.

“I'm sorry, [Name].” He whispered.

“I hate you.”

“Je sais. Mais je voulais pas t'éloigner de tes rêves. Je voulais pas que tu aies la même vie que moi.” He moved his head against yours, kissing your ear.

“J'en ai pas de rêves si je suis pas avec toi.”

He sighed quietly, now regretting his actions even more. He had fucked up more than he had realized.

But he had broken your trust, and you didn't know if you could still believe him after all these years apart.

“Je suis désolé. J'aurais pas dû partir sans toi. Je ne le ferai plus, promis.” He said, nudging you to make you look at him, wanting you to know he meant it as he gave you a weak smile.

You finally pulled away, wiping your face before sitting and standing up. You walked to the broad man and grabbed the knife stuck in his shoulder and pulled it as he cursed from the pain before hiding it back under your clothes. You walked to your other knife on the floor and hid it as well.

“Je vais me rattraper. Je te promets.” Serge said, wincing as he sat up, hand by his stomach wound.

But before you could say anything, a smoke bomb rolled on the floor by the open door, blinding you all within a few seconds.

Traduction - Translation :

Qu'est-ce que tu fais ici ? - What are you doing here ?

A ton avis, connard. - Take a guess, asshole.

Mais pourquoi ? Je t'ai libéré - But why ? I freed you.

Tu m'as abandonné, ouai ! Tu m'as laissé tout seul après m'avoir fait croire qu'on allait rester ensemble ! - You abandoned me, yeah ! You left me alone after making me believe we'd stay together !

C'était pour ton bien ! Je voulais pas t'emmener vers le fond avec moi ! - It was for your own good ! I didn't want to take you down with me !

Je t'ai cherché pendant des années ! - I searched for you for years !

Je suis désolé. - I'm sorry.

Je sais. Mais je voulais pas t'éloigner de tes rêves. Je voulais pas que tu aies la même vie que moi. - I know. But I didn't want to take you away from your dreams. I didn't want you to have the same life as me.

J’en ai pas de rêves si je suis pas avec toi. - I don't have any dreams if I'm not with you.

Je suis désolé. J'aurais pas dû partir sans toi. Je ne le ferai plus, promis. - I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left without you. I won't do it again, I promise.

Je vais me rattraper. Je te promets - I'll make it up to you, I promise you.

[case-of-traxits]

50 Random Character Asks:

Tseng, 1 - 50

You know you had this coming.

50 Random Character Asks: Tseng Edition

I can't even pretend to be surprised here, can I? Well, I got your second ask with your choices as well, so they're in here. 💖

50 questions. Whew. I'll give you guys a sampler on the first one, but the rest are going to be under a cut. This took me SO LONG to do. I've literally been working on it since the 17th! All together, there's 4934 words in this bad boy, excluding the questions.

So uh. Enjoy nearly 5k of meta about Tseng. XD

That said, please keep in mind that all of my answers are specific to how I personally write Tseng. I'm not going to necessarily distinguish every piece of canon from headcanon.

[For this ask game!] || [Still accepting]

1. Canon I outright reject

That Tseng knew Zack was being kept in Nibelheim. For me, it just doesn't work with the rest of Tseng's arc regarding Zack and Aerith and him keeping all of those letters. So. No. Technically, in BC, Tseng is aware that Zack and Cloud are both alive and badly injured, and Hojo orders for him to "prepare the mansion," but never actually says what he's going to be doing there. Tseng sends the Player Turk to clear it out, and then Veld shows up and sends all of the Turks to work on handling the townspeople and everything instead of the mansion. So it's entirely possible that Tseng never knew, according to BC, that Zack and Cloud were placed in those tubes in the basement.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Tseng is absolutely capable of slapping Aerith.  I realize that they took that out of the Remake, but I just feel like it's critical for his character for you to know that he is absolutely capable of that level of violence, even against someone he cares about.

3. Obscure headcanon

Tseng is the third (and youngest) son of Kisaragi Godo's older brother, who was emperor during the Wutaian War.  He was brought up in one of the Leviathan Temples to keep him as an effective (and safe) spare to the throne before he defected to Shinra. His forehead marking is a holdover from his time in the Temple, and he'll never admit to a single soul that sometimes, he feels the guiding hand of destiny (or fate or whatever you want to call it) in his life.

4. Favorite line

"It must have been a real thrill for you… Did you enjoy it?" I think this is everyone's favorite canon line.  With the possible exception of the "Mr. President," line from the Remake. That one's pretty damn good, but it requires actual explanation, doesn't it? XD I will say, he also has the canon line of, "I put everyone else at risk because I feared feeling guilty," in BC.  Which is... telling.

5. Best personality trait

Tseng's loyalty is easily his best personality trait, in my opinion.  We see a lot of it in BC, with his dedication to trying to help and save both Veld and the department, as well as in CC, with his devotion to getting those letters to Zack.

6. Worst personality trait

Tseng's devotion to doing things "correctly" is definitely his worst personality trait.  I am firmly of the opinion that this is the thing that's held him back on just killing the President and installing Rufus early. I mean, I have no doubt that there is technically more to it, including the fact that we have no idea what kind of succession clause might have been put in place for Rufus to inherit.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Age // Born in 1975, so he is 8 years older than Rufus and Reno, 2 years older than Sephiroth, and 3 years younger than Reeve. Height // I usually go with 5'8", but I'm a little flexible on this. I'll go up to 5'10".  He cannot, however, be taller than Rufus for me. Weight // Eh, I don't really do weight HCs.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

Hm... Do I have an unpopular opinion about Tseng..?  I don't know that I interact with enough Tseng fans to know.  Maybe my insistence on him being fairly easy-going when he isn't at work?  I see Tseng as the sort who can go with the flow to some extent, mostly because I don't think he'd work as well with Reno if he wasn't.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

Oh man, honestly?  This might be my unpopular opinion, but his "death" scene in the OG.  With Sephiroth.  And no, not just because of my ship goggles. But there's just so much implied trust there, at a point where Tseng probably shouldn't trust Sephiroth.  He just... He talks to Sephiroth like he's still sane, and Sephiroth cuts him down during it, and then he still drags himself back through the entire Temple of the Ancients to get to the entrance so that he can let AVALANCHE in.

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

 See above.  I just... I love that scene.  It's easily his best scene.

11. Faceclaim for the role

Satoh Takeru.

12. Crack headcanon

So, I don't think I have a straight "crack" headcanon for Tseng.  I do have some crack-treated-seriously headcanons, including that he doesn't heal well magically (explaining why he spends so much more time in bandages and recovery than basically everyone else), and that if he's not friends with Reeve or in a romantic relationship with a partner who insists otherwise, he would live entirely on takeout. Tseng does not cook, in my opinion.  He's perfectly capable, but why?  He's spent years curating an extensive collection of takeout menus he considers acceptable food, and he eats exclusively from restaurants that have passed his very exacting standards. Ooh! And this: Tseng drives a small black sportscar at possibly dangerous speeds in Midgar.  It also has no plates, but there's not a cop in Midgar stupid enough to try to ticket it.

13. Dumbest thing they’ve ever done

Possibly trusting Sephiroth when he ran into him at the Temple of the Ancients, but honestly, there was probably no way he was walking out of that anyway, right?  So excluding that... Probably, the actual 'dumbest' thing he canonically does is in BC, when he chooses to rescue a single lone reactor guard instead of destroying a ship full of weapons that Shinra can't afford to let get out.  That's definitely treated as his dumbest choice by the canon.

14. Most heroic moment

When he literally, while dying, drags himself through the Temple to make sure Aerith gets the keystone.

15. Worst thing they’ve ever done

I mean. He canonically murders people for his paycheck.  So probably that? Unless you're more offended by the 'abandoning his country' backstory, of course.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

He will always wonder if he could have made a difference for Wutai if he'd fought for them instead of going to Midgar. Not that he regrets leaving.  He is fairly sure that he was always meant to be at Rufus' side.  But there's always that small, lingering thought.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

I actually have an old fanmix that more or less I still use. That said, you can also add "Secret (Pretty Little Liars: The Perfectionists Theme)," covered by Denmark + Winter.

18. What they’d go to see a therapist about

I am going to read this is what he should see a therapist about because I'm pretty sure if he had to go see one, he would spend the entire session silent, watching the therapist and making them horribly uncomfortable. (Unless it's Angel, but she's one of @ladykf-writes' OCs that I gleefully borrow whenever I can.  She's a counselor specifically for Turks, and Tseng knows better than to try to argue with her.) Honestly though.  If Tseng were up to date on mental health, I think he'd need to see a therapist about his inability to be settled with anything less than perfection from himself.  And, you know, probably talk to them about the killing people thing.

19. Vices/bad habits

Tseng smokes.  It wasn't a habit he was in before Midgar, but while he was being 'debriefed,' he discovered that asking for a cigarette meant he got to go outside and see the sky and breathe the (admittedly not great) air.  However, due to him not healing super well magically and needing to actually recover naturally, he did eventually notice a cough and slight shortness of breath that he couldn't shake. So he tries not to smoke as much anymore.  Still, he does keep a pack of his clove cigarettes on him at all times.

20. Scars

Oh plenty. All the Turks have them, and Tseng has a few more than most given his difficulties in healing.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

Alcoholic // Junami sake, served warm.  He has a few brands that he likes, most of which need to be imported from Wutai. Non-alcoholic // Caramel Macchiato with extra caramel and extra whip.  Not that he'd let anyone catch him ordering it.  He has a single barista that he goes to in the coffee shop in the Tower (her name is Peony), and she knows better than to call his order out.  Tseng's sweet tooth is something he keeps very much under wraps.

22. Best physical feature

I mean. How do you pick? He's gorgeous. Maybe his hair, but I have a weakness for beautiful hair.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

Vetiver. But that's probably just because I HC his cologne as having notes of vetiver in it.

24. Most annoying habit

According to Reeve, it's Tseng's uncanny way of reading you.  There's nothing more frustrating to him than Tseng's little, "And is that all?" sort of question because he knows that Tseng means, 'I know there's something else and here's your opportunity to tell me what it is before I go digging.'

25. 3 things they’d want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

Assuming he is not allowed to bring his phone, and assuming that a backpack full of his usual supplies (he has one in his apartment, one in his car, and one in his office; he finds it unlikely he'd be caught somewhere without it) doesn't count as a single item, and assuming that he's not stripped of his usual clothes/gear when he's dropped off... 1 // A survival radio with a rechargeable battery. 2 // A waterproof map. 3 // A first aid kit. Really, he'd probably be fine even if dropped off with absolutely nothing, but trust me, he would not be happy about it.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [Lazard]

At first, there would be a long stretch of silence as they both studied the number display and then the elevator panel itself.  Lazard would be the first one to move, leaning forward to punch a few of the buttons, but once it was clear that the elevator was not moving, Tseng would sigh and tip his head back and study the ceiling. He's cataloging everything he needs to do, wondering briefly what he can hand off, what he could text some of the others about to ensure it's done in time.  Then he looks over at Lazard, who is sighing and pushing his hand through his hair. There's another few moments of silence before Lazard pushes the emergency call button, and after they're both reassured by the voice on the other end that maintenance is aware of the issue and working to restore functionality, Tseng slides down to sit.  Lazard looks over at him, then sighs and takes that as an invitation to do the same. "Do you think it's inappropriate to text Reeve?" And Tseng looks up at Lazard, a small, knowing smile on his lips.  "That depends," he murmurs.  "Do you actually want to get to that meeting?" Lazard chuckles, reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose slightly, and he looks back down at his phone.  After a moment, he lays it face down on his leg and tips his head back against the glass wall of the elevator, and he looks out over the city on display behind Tseng. Tseng notices he doesn't start texting. The silence is comfortable.  Companionable.  Neither of them have any stake in impressing one another, and there's no need to fill the silence with talking only for the sake of talking. Tseng supposes that they're lucky that it isn't winter.  Else they would have to sit much, much closer. A glance over at Lazard, who has taken off his glasses briefly to rub one of his eyes, and a little smile touches Tseng's lips. Not, he decides after a minute, that it would be a bad thing, necessarily.

27. Their guilty pleasure

Tseng loves sweets.  Basically all kinds, but he does have a particular weakness for good chocolate and good caramel.  His secret indulgence that he'll never admit to anyone who knows him is that sometimes, during the winter, he'll order a large hot chocolate with extra whipped cream and get a caramel drizzle on it from the coffee shop in the Tower. But only if his usual barista (Peony) is working.  Since she already knows his coffee order is something equally ridiculously sweet, he finds that to be less humiliating than adding someone else in on the loop.

28. How they feel about [Reeve]

Complicated.  On the one hand, Tseng and Reeve are always, always good friends when I write.  One of Tseng's first long, solo missions with the Turks (and I really should rewrite that fic with my current Tseng's backstory and clean up the prose a little) was to function as Reeve's escort on a reactor tour.  That's a minimum of two weeks if they're taking advantage of helicopters periodically, more often three full weeks of travel when Reeve drives the whole thing.  And of course, the driving is definitely Reeve's preference.  Reactor tours are practically the only vacation he takes. But there's no way you don't spend three weeks on a cross-planet roadtrip and don't end up very close to the person you spent all that time with in the car (unless, of course, it's terrible and you just want to murder them).  But at the same time, there are secrets between them that they both know they can't know about one another.  Reeve can't know all the gory details about Tseng's life as a Turk, and Tseng can't know about Reeve's... let's call it his uncanny knack with the reactors. Now, do I ship them? Honestly, yes, sometimes.  I mean, I usually pair off Tseng with Sephiroth and Reeve with either Lazard (if I want canon to happen for something later) or Genesis (if I'm wanting a fix-it), but I can absolutely ship Tseng with Reeve.  Honestly though, that's kind of an unfair question.  I can ship Tseng and Reeve with nearly anyone.

29. Eating habits

 If it weren't for Reeve's insistence on a weekly meal with him and Reeve's occasional order of groceries simply arriving at Tseng's apartment unannounced (he only really sends dry goods these days; produce and dairy get delivered by Reeve himself when Tseng invites him over), Tseng would live exclusively on takeout. Expensive takeout. But takeout nonetheless.

30. Sleeping habits

Tseng slept in a Midgardian style bed for about a week while he was in debriefing after he defected, but eventually, he took all of his blankets and everything and just started sleeping on the floor instead. Now, in his apartment in Upper Eight in the middle of Little Wutai, he's found someone who can make him a gloriously oversized futon, and his one "concession" to the Midgardian way of doing things is that he no longer puts his futon up every morning.  He has four futons to rotate between, with a veritable army of sheets and blankets for them that he's gotten as what he suspects is something akin to 'tribute' from some of the Little Wutai locals. He's done his best to make it clear that he's to be treated as anyone else in the community, but he's hardly going to refuse these things. Tseng sleeps lightly, waking up at basically any sort of unexpected sound, but he has the enviable ability to drift right back off.

31. If the had a tumblr what would it look like?

Honestly? It would be all precisely curated images/gifs of nature. Probably of waterfalls and rivers and creeks. But it would be immaculate. Perfectly tagged and maintained.

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

I don't know that it is guaranteed, but Reno's antics often get a smile or a chuckle out of Tseng; particularly so when someone is underestimating Reno in some way.  He has a tendency to find amusement in watching someone walk right into something they should have seen coming. That said, both Reeve and Rufus are also able to routinely get a smile out of him; Reeve because he's just so warm that Tseng can't help but to smile back and Rufus because, well, to be perfectly frank, he's a sassy little shit sometimes and Tseng loves that about him. (For the record, Aerith also often fits in that "sassy little shit" box, but Tseng does his best not to let her see him smile, or else she'll take it as encouragement.) If we're talking about something other than people though, the sort of thing that will routinely get a smile out of Tseng is people watching.  He likes sitting on a bench in the Tower or in Midgar in general and just... watching people go by. It helps him feel grounded in the world.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

I don't know that anything specific is guaranteed to make him cry.  He's very much a 'buckle down and take care of things,' sort of guy instead of the emotional reaction sort of guy. That said, he doesn't handle it well after Nibelheim.  Even if he's not in a relationship with Sephiroth, the whole mess of 'handling' the survivors and realizing just how far the President will go to keep himself in power and the uncertainty of what's going on with Veld and with AVALANCHE and just... It's isn't pretty.

34. How they react when they are feeling [excited]

Tseng has, as a general rule, muted outward emotional tells for anything he's feeling.  It was trained into him when he was at the Temple, both as a potential heir to the throne as well as because he was being trained to be a priest.  That said, when he's genuinely excited about something and not just 'looking forward' to it, someone who knows him can tell. He's distracted from other things.  And sometimes, if you're talking to him and he's excited about something, he might ask you to repeat yourself. Not like, "Oh, I didn't hear you, what?" But you'll get a lot more of those little noncommittal "Mm?" sounds out of him. Unless you're talking about the thing he's excited about.  In that case, you'll have his complete attention, and his usually small, amused smiles (the smug ones; you know the ones) are a bit bigger, more genuine and, dare I say it, softer.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

Tseng's idea of a perfect day... well, to some extent, that varies based on where we are in the timeline and if he's in a romantic relationship, but in general, his idea of the perfect day is as follows: Nothing disastrous happens. Barring that, he'll settle for: Anything disastrous that did happen was handled.  Appropriately. In all seriousness, Tseng is very much the sort who focuses on living each day as though he won't have another, and he doesn't let himself indulge much in idle fantasies. He's much more interested in perfect moments.  A good morning run with someone he likes.  An effective training session with one of the other Turks.  Watching someone grasp something that he's been teaching them.  An evening walk with someone he loves.  Sharing a ridiculously rich chocolate cake with them afterwards.  That sort of thing.

36. Their favorite season

Tseng's favorite season in Midgar is fall, when there's a near constant wind coming off the mountains.  It can be difficult to track the seasons in Midgar, since there's not much by way of greenery, but fall means a cool wind that helps disperse some of the excess heat that comes off the Plate under his feet. Back in Wutai, his favorite season was summer.  He liked watching the fireflies in the dusk at the Temple, and no small part of him misses that.

37. What they really think about themselves

Deep down, no matter what else, Tseng knows that he is an oathbreaker.  He can justify it to himself or dress it up all he wants, but he knows that his father, that his brothers, that his country counted on him, and he walked away.  He abandoned everything he'd ever known and walked into the camp of the enemy and swore to help them instead. It's part of why his loyalty is so fiercely held now, and part of why he's so careful to be as pristine and perfect at what he does as is possible. He knows what his family— had they survived the war— would have said.  Once an oathbreaker, always an oathbreaker, and now, he's tied to the oaths he has made in a way that he wouldn't be if he hadn't defected, because he's terrified that they would be right. That puts him in the position of conflicting loyalties, and why he is so careful not to make promises once he's in Midgar.  His first loyalty is to Rufus now, his second to the rest of the Turks, and if there's anything that keeps him awake at night, it's how he's supposed to juggle the additional loyalties that he's found himself collecting (Aerith, Reeve, Zack, Sephiroth, Veld, Reno, etc.).

38. Favorite holiday

Valentine's Day.  Or, to be more exact, the day after.  When Tseng can get a box of very nice chocolates for extremely cheap. XD No, in all seriousness, Tseng quite likes the Midgar celebration of the dead, All Hallow's Eve, with the fixation on costumes and frightening people.  He finds it fascinating for a culture that spends so much of its time not talking about the dead.

39. Favorite game

Tseng likes card games.  He's good at them for the most part, and in fact, when he first defected and arrived in the SOLDIER camp, he realized very quickly that his traditional Wutaian garb was only going to keep him Othered.  So he learned to play poker from watching several hands, and he won himself gil and spare clothing alike off those SOLDIERs who heard his— at the time— thick accent and thought he'd be an easy mark. He still has a soft spot for poker.

40. Favorite book

Have two of Tseng's favorites.  Both titles have been translated from the original Wutaian for your convenience, but Tseng only has the Wutaian copies in his home. "When the Sun Rises in the West," by Yurieva Aiko.  This is a collection of poetry made from the letters recovered from the belongings of Wutaian soldiers after the war. "The Sleeve Cost Me Nothing Compared to You," by Sato Ivan.  This is a collection of short stories and poetry about love and the fleeting nature of romance.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Before he defects // Tseng would like to have lunch with one of the previous emperors at this point, just to try to get some perspective on what's happening with his country.  Particularly, he desperately wishes he had someone to ask for advice from.  He's torn on what he sees going on, and he wonders what's wrong with him that he seems to be the only one who sees that there's no possible way for them to win this engagement with Shinra. After he defects // During his time in Shinra, given the option to have lunch with literally anyone, Tseng would like one more lunch with someone he loves.  He's very much of the opinion that the best thing to do is to savor every moment you get with someone, no matter how mundane or fleeting. Post-canon // He would like one more lunch with Aerith and Zack.  Just to see them again, and to convince himself to let their ghosts go.

42. 3 comfort items

1 // Tseng has kept, over the years, exactly one kimono from his time in Wutai, and while he never wears it anymore, sometimes, when he's feeling nostalgic, he'll go and run his hands over the silk. 2 // After he completed his training to be accepted into the Turks, before he left the Academy in Junon to go back to Midgar full time, the Acting Director of Operations in The Junon Branch of the Administrative Research, Anya (also one of @ladykf-writes' OCs), gave him an inlaid bone and black alloy knife with a blade cleaning kit.  This is the knife that Tseng wears strapped to his left thigh (the left pocket is cut open in every pair of his pants so that he can reach it). 3 // When Rufus was fifteen, he gifted Tseng a solid black watch with no markers on it besides a pair of mythril white hands and a single mythril accent on the face that marked the twelve.  Rufus never intended for Tseng to keep it as a staple, but while Rufus has gifted him other watches since then, this is the one that Tseng wears as his every day watch.

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

Favorite Food 1 // Sushi from a tiny hole-in-the-wall place in Little Wutai.  And when he says hole-in-the-wall, he means this woman literally just sells bentos out of her kitchen. Favorite Food 2 // Fiola's in Upper Six is one of his favorites.  They have excellent Mideelan pasta and even better bread.  The bread is, in fact, good enough that while Tseng usually doesn't eat bread with his meals, he'll make an exception for Fiola's. Favorite Food 3 // There is a tiny bakery in Upper Three that sells the absolute best chocolate cake that Tseng has ever had.   Despised Food 1 // The "sushi" for sale in the Midgar cafeteria.  One of them had mayonnaise in it. Despised Food 2 // Pork rinds, a surprisingly popular snack in Midgar.  Tseng suspects it's a holdover from when the area was much more farming-oriented.  As it stands, every sector, Above and Below, has their own 'special' flavoring for them, and Tseng has yet to find anything redeeming about them. Despised Food 3 // Tseng doesn't despise bread exactly, but he fails to find it enjoyable to eat most of the time.  He'd prefer his carbs come in sugar, pasta, or rice, given the choice.

44. Their happiest memory

Tseng has a couple. The first one is of one of the last times he saw his mother. He was about eleven, and he was brought to her rooms so that she could see him.  They spent the evening reading poetry and him showing off his sword forms and her telling him how proud of him she was.  He helped her brush out her hair and braid it for bed, and then she returned the favor and kissed his forehead and sent him on back to his own rooms.  He has a small jade comb that he found in a secondhand shop in Little Wutai that makes him think of her. His second happiest memory is nearly always with Reeve, of their drive around the planet on that first reactor tour.  It was the first time Tseng traveled that he could just enjoy the process, and he has fond memories of the times they rolled the windows down and Tseng could let his hand hang out of the car and just... feel the breeze.  Reeve had been content to talk about nothing or put on an audiobook— and those had been something delightful to learn about, something that Tseng had immediately invested in because that was a great way to listen to the language— and let them just ride.

45. Their favorite celebrity

Tseng is embarrassed to admit it, but when he first arrived in Midgar and Junon, his Standard was not nearly as good as he'd thought it was.  The tutors he'd had in Wutai hadn't been native speakers, after all, and while he'd learned very well from them, there was no way he'd be mistaken for a natural speaker.  So he'd immediately immersed himself, watching the news and reading everything he could get his hands on, and eventually, he'd discovered what were called 'soaps.' He never really followed a lot of the plot lines— he felt sometimes like they had put several novels in a blender and poured the resulting concoction on the screen— but he did eventually decide there was one actress, Gabrielle Cooper, that he enjoyed watching. She had one of the most neutral accents he'd ever heard, and he followed her from show to show faithfully. Even long after he'd stopped watching soaps to help with his Standard, long after he'd more or less shed his own accent completely, he would catch himself picking up a magazine or a tabloid if she was featured on the cover.

46. The person they most admire

For a long, long time, it was Veld.  And then everything with Felicia happened.  And it isn't that he no longer admires Veld, but he certainly seems more human now.  What Tseng admires most about Veld now isn't the seemingly perfect Turk persona that he presents, but his dedication to what he thinks is right. Post-canon, the person he probably actually admires most is Rufus.  Rufus Shinra, who was brought up to rule the world and has been barred from the throne.  Rufus Shinra, who should have had everything and instead has had to cobble something together from the ruins left behind. In that vein, Reeve is an extremely close second. Reeve was never intended to be the one in charge, and Tseng knows that Reeve would like nothing more than to hand it all off to someone else and go back to designing houses and buildings and parks. But there's literally no one else to hand it off to. So he trudges on, running the now-largest military force in the world, making decisions that shape the entire world with almost no oversight.

47. Their dream job

If Tseng wasn't a Turk and hadn't been brought up in the Temple and was just an average Midgar citizen?  He'd be a restaurant critic.  He'd write the most detailed and possibly scathing reviews possible, and restaurants would fear him.

48. Scariest moment of their life

A few months before he defected, during a ritual for Leviathan at the Temple, Tseng nearly drowned.  This was one of his big catalyst moments for abandoning Wutai, as he realized in that moment that no matter what anyone told him about how important he was, they all saw him as expendable. After Advent Children, the scariest moment in Tseng's life was watching Rufus jump from that building.

49. Favorite toy as a child

Tseng was given a wooden training sword very young that he absolutely used to menace every Temple Guardian he ran across until he was big enough for proper training, and he cherished it right up until he left the temple.  He didn't take it with him, but he made sure to polish it and leave it in a respectful place when he left. He is sure that it was broken and/or burned upon discovery that he had chosen to side with Shinra.

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

I don't know that Tseng has very many memories that he's blocked out.  Tseng is very unflinching when it comes to facing who he is and what he's done and what's been done to him.  He believes in facing things head-on and in dealing with the consequences that brings.

Congratulations on making it all the way down here, omg. IT WAS SO LONG!!

All of the love. 💖

[stxrvel]

one of those days

summary: Bucky tries to comfort you after a hard day, but something goes wrong.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +2k

warnings: mentions of death, descriptions of blood and panic attacks, no happy ending.

note: hello guys!!! im really happy i got to finished this today bc it's been in my drafts for days and i didn't know how to approach it, but i think i did it how i wanted. please let me know what you think!! i love reading all of your comments <3. thank u for reading and i hope you all enjoy it!!

You couldn't remember the last time you'd left your room. Maybe it had been days or maybe months, time no longer reigned in your world as logically as before. The gray clouds had not disappeared, they still hung in the sky as if time had stopped on that fateful day, as if you were repeating it and every day you were waiting for someone to come from behind to tell you that something terrible had happened.

As you no longer differentiated one day from the other, it was very difficult to continue trying to lead a normal life. The people around you were moving as usual, happy and sharing together, but you couldn't remember the last time you had felt joy in your life. The pain had become a constant and there were some days when you couldn't even remember why.

That was one of those days, lying on a beach chair on the rooftop of the building where you lived. Sometimes you couldn't remember why you didn't sleep at the Complex anymore. That was one of those days.

“Y/N?”

You didn't move from the chair, but for the first time in days you allowed yourself to crack a smile.

“Bucky.”

“What are you doing here? It looks like it's going to rain.”

“It's quieter up here.”

Bucky moved to sit on the chair next to you, his body facing yours, but you didn't dare look at him, like every time he came. You were afraid to see him, afraid that he might see how you really felt if he looked into your eyes, that he might see what you really thought when he wasn't around.

“How was the mission?”

“As usual,” he replied a few seconds later, weighing whether or not to humor you. “Smooth and quick. Steve sends his regards.”

“He should come over instead of doing that,” you suggested with a forced half-smile, your cheeks falling into place too quickly because they weren't used to do that anymore.

“He should, but you know he has to do all the mission reports. It's so boring.”

Your lips curled up, with a lot of memories of the grimaces on Bucky's face when he had to take care of those reports.

“Must have been the best day of your life when Fury took that task off your hands.”

“No,” Bucky reneged almost instantly and his body shifted to be a little closer, so much so that you could see him through your peripheral vision, but you still didn't want to see him, “the best day of my life was when I met you.”

“Bucky…” you grumbled, half embarrassed. Looking up at the sky, you could still feel your neck and cheeks heat up from shame.

“What, how long have we been together already and you still feel embarrassed when I say those things?”

You could barely let out a laugh, the weight on your heart becoming a little lighter.

“You can tell I don't do it that often. I've got to change that.”

“Don't start, Bucky.”

The man next to you let out a laugh, his figure briefly disappearing from your field of vision and you quickly felt your heart rise up into your throat until he spoke again.

“How are you, honey?”

You let the air out of your lungs in a heavy exhale. You could have felt a little calmer knowing he was still there, but you knew the direction the conversation was going to take and it kept your shoulders tense. As much as you wanted to relax around him, whenever he touched on that subject you didn't end up very well. Some days you couldn't remember why.

“I'm fine, Buck.”

“You sure?”

“Very sure.”

“And why have you been eating so badly?”

You frowned. “I haven't been-”

“You eat twice a day and most of the time you just order take-out.”

Your hands clenched the armrests of the chair. Sooner than ever, like every time, you felt the air suffocate you. With your chest compressed, you felt breathing in was getting harder and harder. You didn't want to bring up that subject again, not because of how it had ended last time. You wanted to keep talking about trivial things, you wanted him to keep making jokes, to keep making you blush. You wanted him to…

“I'm fine, Bucky. And if you can't believe that, at least believe that I'll try to be.”

“I trust you, doll. It's just that lately you haven't been taking care of yourself like you promised me.”

“I've been trying…” with forced breathing you felt like you could barely speak, and with that lump in your throat things weren't any easier. You hated getting to that point because you succumbed so fast. “I swear. Just… just… can you go back to talking about other things?”

You heard him sigh and with your hand on your heart you almost prayed that he would drop the subject for peace, for your own peace.

“You know Natasha's been calling you these days, right?”

You dropped your shoulders, mildly relieved that he decided to heed you.

“Yeah, it's just… I don't want to talk to her. I don't really want to talk to anyone.”

“Why?”

You frowned at the sky, the gray clouds taking on a darker color from the mountains. You felt like your head had broken into gaps, into fragments you couldn't put together no matter how hard you tried.

“I don't know. I don't think I remember.”

“So is it worth it for you to be mad at them and not talk to them for something you don't remember?”

“It must be something really bad, Bucky. I feel a tightness in my chest when I think about them.”

“Mmm, okay. 'S okay, doll.”

You felt the coldness of your blood evaporate and give way to warmth as his hand passed over your arm. To feel his touch, skin against skin, so real, so simple yet so maddening. You felt like you hadn't seen or touched him in months, when the mission was only a few days old. His fingers moved in lines over your skin, so soft and so loving that you sensed the urge to cry burning behind your eyes.

“How are you?”

For some reason, asking him that question almost made you burst into tears.

“When are you going to move in with me? You know I'm tired of asking you.”

Bucky was silent for a few seconds, the brush over your arm becoming a little slower and sloppier.

“Soon, honey.”

“You always say that.”

“It's an answer after all, isn't it?”

“But it's not enough. I want you to come. I want to sleep with you. I want to spend my days with you because I don't know… I don't know what I would do without you.”

Your voice broke as you finished speaking and the tears you were trying to hold back were about to overflow from your eyes. The dark sky, threatening terrible weather, was now just a bunch of blobs. A storm looked insignificant compared to the possibility of not being able to have a future together with the man you loved, together with the love of your life.

His hand tightened around your forearm and you heard him sigh.

“I'll come soon, Y/N, I promise. And we'll live together, and we'll do all those things you've always told me about.”

“You remember them?”

“Of course!” he sounded almost offended by the question. “We have to do a picnic on this rooftop. We also have to bake a pizza at midnight. We have to adopt two puppies. And a cat…”

“You have to propose to me on this rooftop after a big romantic dinner,” you interrupted him, with a goofy lovelorn grin despite the wetness that surrounded your cheeks.

“I already did that, doll.”

“Oh, you did?”

“Don't you remember?”

Bucky's hand moved over your arm forward, his fingers brushing your skin almost superficially sending shivers throughout your body. He stopped when he had his hand between yours, which he lifted to show you a silver band that shimmered despite the cloudy weather.

“You haven't even taken off your ring.”

“And why would I take it off?” you frowned, looking intently at the ring that adorned your finger. Surprisingly you began to remember, or perhaps imagine, a grand wedding and the way that same hand that held yours had placed that ring on you as an eternal promise in front of all your friends and family.

You remembered your smile and the euphoric feeling you felt after kissing him, when he lifted you up in the air with a smile he was trying to hold back just so he could keep kissing you.

It had been a long time since you kissed him. You had almost forgotten what his lips felt like.

“So, we're married.”

“Yes, doll, and we were very happy.”

“We were?”

“You made me happy every day of my life, honey, I don't want you to ever forget that.”

“Bucky…?”

“And I don't want you to feel guilty anymore, Y/N. What happened wasn't your fault.”

“Bucky, why are you talking like that? What do you mean-?���

You moved, mistakenly, to where your husband stood and panic swirled in your chest.

You screamed when you saw him.

You turned your head as fast as you could, but it was done. The damage was done. And the memories started coming to you so fast that you couldn't stop screaming, coupled with the whimpering that invaded your body because the pain was too strong. Seeing him like this, remembering what had happened was too much.

“No! No!” you screamed when you felt his hands around you again.

His face was bloodied, just as you had last seen him. That was your last memory of him, when he was on that gurney in an empty room in the Complex, with nothing around him but some medical machines they were taking apart with which they tried to save his life. There you had seen him for the last time, after he took his last breath, after he took your life with him.

Everything after that is always a blur.

Very few days could you remember what had happened after that. In fact, there were very few days when you remembered that your husband had died. That was one of those days.

And you remembered it all, and having all those feelings inside your body, mixing inside your head at the same time was too overwhelming. You brought your hands to the sides of your head with your eyes closed, tightly shut. You shook yourself to get his hands off your body, because you couldn't stand that, because he wasn't real and it was impossible that you could feel his hands touching you when he was dead, when physically he couldn't be there.

Your crying did not stop even when you were sure there was no one touching you. The sense of infinite loss and sadness continued and persisted, as if it was his goal to leave you permanently broken.

Your hands moved over your ears, it was almost an instinct. Pounding them as if so you could discover the reality, that none of it had really happened, as if so you could stop your mind from continuing to play with your emotions and senses in that way. You became a sea of sobs and howls of pain, you almost felt like someone was opening your chest to pull your heart out.

“What's happening to her?” you heard an anguished female voice.

It was Natasha.

“Come, come here.”

That was Steve.

“Please, leave the room.”

That… you didn't know who it was.

And… room?

No, no. You were on the roof of your building. How had you moved so fast?

Argh. Your head hurt terribly.

In the middle of that crying fit, you half-opened your eyes. The first thing you noticed was a green field. Then a window. Then, rain. Just like that day. That day it was raining like the sky was falling. That day even the thunder couldn't overcome the sound of your wailing. That day, you cursed the sky and whoever was listening.

When you noticed the dark walls and that you weren't really on the rooftop, the world fell into a deafening silence.

All the other memories began to come, but now you felt numb. The memories were painful, but you couldn't identify any emotion connecting them. There was nothing. The images had no sound. They kept repeating in your head, that room with a dead and bloody man, a funeral, a dark room, screams and cries… destruction… coldness... then, a big house made of stone, people in strange clothes and then… this room. For days, for weeks. There was nothing else.

“Miss L/N, are you with me?”

You turned to look at the woman. Suddenly you felt cold surround your bones.

Of everything you had remembered only one thing remained fresh.

“He's dead,” you murmured, your lower lip trembling, more tears falling, to the woman gently holding your shoulders.

“Yes, Y/N. He passed away.”

More tears fell and again your sobs filled the silence of the room.

“But you didn't. You're here.”

“I feel like that's how it was. I feel like he took my soul with him,” your voice trembled, cracked, and you were surprised that anyone could understand what you were saying. “I'm a dead person.”

“No, you're not. You are more than alive right now. You have to fight that loss because you know this is not what he would want for you. This is not the life he would want for you after him.”

“It's just that there is no life after him,” you exclaimed to the woman, your eyes narrowed with tears. You were choking on your own irregular breathing, and though you wanted to, you couldn't regulate it.

“Yes, Y/N, yes there is, and you promised us to find it when you came here. You promised him.”

The woman touched the ring that was still on your ring finger, and you remembered all the times you stayed up all night staring at it unable to sleep.

You remembered then that… that creation in your head, that felt so real.

“I trust you, doll. It's just that lately you haven't been taking care of yourself like you promised me.”

You promised him. Yes, you remembered. The day you came to that mansion. The day when that man took you in and promised to help you find a new meaning in life.

How long must it have been since then? How long have you been stuck in your head? How long have you let yourself be dominated by your dreams?

“Yes I did…”

“Yes, you did.”

You looked at the woman again, her eyes determined and full of passion. Of confidence.

You began to feel the warmth surround your bones and only then did you realize that the room was frozen. There were tiny snowflakes on that woman's reddish hair.

“Now do you feel ready to begin?”

You hesitated, because remembering it gave you as much physical pain as if you were burying a knife straight through your heart. Maybe that would hurt less.

But there where you stood, you had only two choices. And if you were honest, you could only think of the option that would make Bucky smile proudly at you.

Maybe he would.

Maybe he did when you held that woman's hand.

You didn't know, but the only thing you could hope for was that in none of the days ahead of you, would you ever go through the suffering of one of those days again.

---

a/n. thank u for reading!! i love you all, for your support, thank u so much <3.

[detachedminxsfics]

Punishment

Masterlist

Characters: Negan x Saviour F!Reader, Simon, The Saviours

Summary: Negan doesn't like sharing his stuff, so much so that you just earned yourself a place on your knees and a job to do, and he doesn't stop for anything, or anyone.

Word count: 3.2K

Warnings: NSFW - Oral (m recieving), exhibitionism elements, authority kink, comic accurate foul mouthed negan, negan referring to himself as daddy bc why not, praise, degradation, dirty talk, dom negan

A/N: Haven't managed to get any writing done for a while because my brain just wasn't working with me, but this slutty little idea popped into my brain the other night and I was asked to make this as dirty as possible, so here goes nothing. Also, I have never wrote m recieving oral before, so I apologise in advance.

One of his black leather boots tapped idly against the concrete flooring, his hands interlocked and his chin perched on top as he watched you, elbows propped on the table and his eyes burning holes into you. Lucille was carefully laid in front of him, his gloves however strewn on the table off to the side. It was like he was waiting for something, but he hadn't said a word since he had one of the saviours come to fetch you and muttered for you to take a seat. Better yet, considering Negan wasn't one for long uncomfortable silences, his mouth always running even at the wrongest times, you were in some deep, deep shit.

"Do you know why you're here, sweetheart?" The pet name did little to lessen the cold, warning hint to his tone, a word usually meant with such affection practically dripping with poison.

You opened your mouth to speak but he swiftly unlocked his hands and raised one to interrupt you.

"That shit was rhetorical. You know damn well why your pretty little ass is here, and you are well aware of the little stunt you pulled."

You had to physically restrain yourself from rolling your eyes at the realisation of what had frustrated him so much that he went out of his way to call you into the meeting room. You'd grown quite fond of one of the saviours you were often grouped up with, and having done a few supply runs together by now, you were pretty comfortable. Comfortable enough to place your hand on their arm whilst the two of you cracked jokes and took a smoke break in the courtyard, the walkers entrapped in the metal fence behind you making a racket all the while. And though faint, you immediately sensed it. Eyes on you, watching you, eyes fixed on your every movement. You glanced to identify the observer, and there he was. The man himself. He was at the top of the steps, the door behind him one of the entrances to the second level of the sanctuary, or more famously, his catwalk. He was leaning on the railings, his eyes filling with something dark as he shot you a glare before he practically tore them from you and headed back inside, his usual saunter replaced by a riled pace of heavy footing.

"God Negan, we were just talking."

You wanted to calm him down, truly, but you couldn't help yourself. The sense of ownership and possessiveness over you he exuded was intoxicating, and tempting. You wanted to see what would happen if you teased him, what buttons you could push to make him tick, and how far he would go. After all, you and Negan were amidst a rather dysfunctional state of affairs. You weren't married to him, weren't one of his kind of prized possessions that pranced around in a little black dress and gave him massages if he asked. No, you were a fling. The first time had happened in this very room when he asked you to hang back after one of the usual meetings to ensure operations were running smoothly. What started as mild, innocent flirting turned to your back pressed against the long wooden table taking up the centre of the room, your legs propped on his shoulders as he thrust into you so hard you forgot how to breathe. You weren't ashamed to admit that he had fucked you in a way you'd never even thought possible, thus, you kept coming back for more. And so did he. In the front of one of the loading vans, on his bed, his leather sofa, the coffee table across from it, hell even one of the cells in the hallway. You couldn't get enough of each other, but you weren't exclusive. Although, Negan seemed to think otherwise.

"Is that so? Cause I caught the way you had your hands all over that worthless sack of shit, and it kinda felt a lot like you were doin' it just to piss me off."

"So what if I was?"

Silence fell, your words thickening the air whilst you made the mistake of narrowing your eyes enough to the point where you were shooting him daggers. His jaw clenched for a moment or two before he kissed his teeth, slightly leaning in so that he could close some of the space between you.

"You know that bratty little mouth of yours was always bound to get you in the deepest of shit someday."

And then he smiled. It unnerved you, the sudden grin as he enthused about whatever it was he had in store for you, and then leaned back in his chair, his legs spreading a little further apart as he did.

"Lucky for me, and not so fortunately for you, today is that fine day. So, I'm gonna need you on your knees."

It was humiliating the way you complied so eagerly, sliding off of your chair and sinking to your knees the very second he had finished making his demand, eyes trained on him as you awaited his next order. Your ardour drew a small pleased chuckle from his throat, only encouraging him to continue.

"Crawl to me, baby. Right here." He beckoned in a strange mixture that amounted to a soft demand, but a command nonetheless.

He paired his words with a brief point to the space on the floor below him, under the table. You flattened your palms against the cool concrete floor and began to crawl, not slow enough to make him impatient, but taking enough time to leave him with heavy, bated breath. Your own breath got that much more unsteady when you reached the space between his legs, and his fingers started to fiddle with the buckle of his belt.

"Now you are gonna stuff that pretty little mouth of yours full of cock because you don't seem to understand who exactly it is that you belong to, and who the hell it is that you're damn well talking to. Got it, darlin'?"

God, you loved him like this. His hazel eyes swirling with all the dark, twisted shit he wanted to do to you, tongue momentarily darting out to wet his bottom lip as he looked you over like you were good enough to eat.

"Yes, sir." You replied knowing the total subservience would only turn him on that much more.

The way you addressed him made him screw his eyes shut for a moment, a small grunt erupting from his throat at the mere use of the word. His belt rested loosely on either side of his fly, and he was tugging down the zipper of his jeans and pulling himself free in an instant. You smoothed your hands up his knees and over his thighs ready to lean forward when the feel of his open palm cupping your jaw stopped you.

"Easy now," he cooed as the hand turned to fingers cupping your chin, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip and slightly dragging it downward, "c'mon, give daddy some sugar first."

The interjection for the sake of wanting to press his lips against yours made you giggle, your hands still resting against his thighs allowing you to lean up and do as he said, your lips crashing against one another's hungrily. The feel of his tongue slipping into your mouth made you moan, as did the hand that wrapped around your throat as he stole your air in more ways than one. With Negan so occupied with your mouth, the opportunity presented itself, your hand sneaking down to his crotch before closing around his shaft, the feel of your hand pressed over his cock making him groan into your open mouth and faintly tighten the grip on your throat. You started to move your hand up and down his shaft whilst you carefully took his bottom lip between your teeth, nipping it a little before you let it go, and then kissed over where you had bit. When you drew back he was gazing at you with half-lidded eyes, lips parted as he breathed almost as heavily as you were, and a devilish smile soon appearing on his frequented lips.

"Go on then, wrap those pretty lips 'round daddy's cock."

You bit down on your bottom lip and settled back down to the space between his legs, the hard surface below stinging your knees whilst you leaned in and ran your tongue over the swollen tip, beads of precum gathering along your tongue as you did. Then, you slipped him into your mouth, taking him further and further until you were swallowing every damned inch.

"Fuuuck." Negan drawled as he threw his head back slightly, the feel of your throat alone enough to have him reach under the table and slip his fingers into your hair, fingers combing through the strands while you moved your head up and down, your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you practically choked on him.

Then like some cursed nightmare, the door to the meeting room swung open. You immediately rushed to move off of him, but the hand he'd been running through your hair gathered some of your hair in his hand and pushed your head back down. You gave his thigh a few pats to signal that you were no longer alone in case he hadn't noticed, but he simply tightened his grip on your hair and ignored you. His chair was tucked into the table rather tightly thank god, so you couldn't be seen, but you may still be heard. Much to your horror the room filled with the many footsteps of saviours and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor as they took their seats, the many shoes and legs appearing off to the side of you and behind you making you keep your arms tight to you and your legs close together with the fear of being spotted. Negan, however, was over the moon. Negan started speaking to the other saviours whilst you remained frozen underneath the table, trying to find some relief in the fact that you might just be able to remain still until this is all over, until he tugged your hair to make you move on him. Your scalp burned from his grasp, the pain motivating you to bob your head, repeatedly taking him until he was hitting the back of your throat, your eyes watering with the urge to choke. You could hear some of the noises Negan was making above you, small curses muttered under his breath and tiny grunts that sounded like a subtle clearing of the throat when someone was talking. There was a pause between the discussion, however, a pause that you awkwardly filled with an accidental gagging sound as you swallowed him. Negan was quick to disguise this, his leg kicking out underneath the table to serve as a warning, and the sound of him coughing followed.

"Shit, think I'm comin' down with something."

The facade Negan sprung into action with seemed believable enough, not that any of them were stupid enough to question Negan anyways. He didn't have to give you a sign to continue, didn't need to lift a damn finger, you just did. You ran your tongue over the veins lining his shaft and occasionally swirled your tongue over the tip until it got to the point where Negan was practically squirming. He'd adjust in his seat like that would do him any good, and run his hand over his face all the way down to his stubble as he tried to suppress the filthiest and lowest of groans, throaty sounds that he tried to pair with anything to make it appear more natural. To make matters worse a comment someone had made irritated Simon, enough to cause him to lean back in his seat and stretch his legs out, his boots hitting your side before he noticed the obstruction and brought his legs a little further inward. There was no hiding it now. The way one of Negan's arms moved as he ran his fingers through your hair, the way he occasionally screwed his eyes shut and bit his knuckles to stifle his moans, hardly able to form one word as you slid him into your mouth over and over, effortlessly taking him to the hilt. The knowing and amused stare that Simon shot Negan to let him know that he was well aware of the fact that his boss was getting his dick sucked underneath the table, and the slight tilt of Negan's head in response as he dared him to say a word. Simon knew better. From what you could gather when you managed to tune into the conversation over the slight pain running through your jaw, and the feel of your spit having coated him, your drool dribbling down his balls and undoubtedly dampening some of the denim surrounding the base of his cock, was that whatever the basis of the meeting it went without a hitch. With him growing more restless, his breath getting heavier by the minute, he raised his hand and waved it dismissively.

"That's all, you're dismissed."

The sound of a sea of footsteps as they sat up from their chairs and made way for the exit came as a great relief, though you weren't so opposed to the thrill it had provided. Negan carefully tilted your head back to remove himself from your mouth, something you took as what shred of mercy he had for you ever since you'd first walked in, until you realised it was for something else.

"How's it going down there?" Simon quipped, the outright acknowledgement of what you had been doing throughout the entire meeting leaving you flustered.

You knew Simon though, knew that if you clammed up and let him feel that rush of pride from humiliating you that you'd never live it down, so you owned it.

"I'm doing just great." You remarked as you stretched your arm out from one side of the table and gave him a thumbs up.

Negan chuckled and nodded off to the side to signal Simon to leave, and then you were alone again, finally. He scooted his chair back considering it had been tucked into the table so tightly, which now allowed you to crawl out from the table and take him in in all his glory. The beads of sweat that had gathered on his forehead, the singular curl of hair defiantly protruding from his hairline having escaped his signature slick style, and the smell of leather carrying through the air from the way he was always roasting in that jacket, though the sweat you made him break into largely contributed. He was ruined, and he wasn't even done yet.

"Goddamn, you are a little slut aren't you," Negan commented as he looked down at the damp spots of spit on his jeans, "look at the mess you made."

You laughed and moved closer towards him until you were resting your head on one of his thighs and looking up at him through your lashes.

"I thought you liked it messy." You teased, the playful retort making Negan bite down on his bottom lip and slightly turn his head to the side as a pleased sound rumbled from his throat.

"Course I do, sweetheart. But in this case," he gently lifted your head from his thigh and cupped the underside of your jaw to bring your head back to his cock until your lips were barely brushing against the tip, "I expect you to swallow."

"Yes, sir."

And you were filling your mouth with him again. It didn't take long to work him back up to the point of squirming, though this time he could be freely vocal.

"God, fuckity fuck. That's it, baby, just like that." He fell into a string of gravelly curses, the occasional compliment and words of approval mixed in.

Negan's groans got deeper, harsher, and his hand found its way to your hair in the midst of the impending release, his head tilting back and exposing his rather prominent adam's apple as he swore like a sailor. He moved his hips as he made a few small thrusts into your mouth before you felt him tense, and everything coming out of that man's mouth whether it be words or sounds, was through gritted teeth. Then, you felt it. Hot wet spurts splashed over your tongue and the back of your mouth, some escaping down your throat. Patiently, you waited for him to be done pouring every last droplet into your mouth and then carefully removed him; your slightly puffed cheeks and the small splotch of white liquid decorating the corner of your lips making him laugh, a low, hoarse laugh as he reached out and ran his hand down one side of your face, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

"As sexy as you look with a mouthful of my cum, swallow it."

So you did. After clearing your mouth of his release you stuck your tongue out to show him your clean tongue, the sight bringing one of the dirtiest smiles you've ever seen to his lips as he tucked himself back into his pants.

"Good girl."

The praise did little to ease the heat pooling between your legs, but this was a punishment after all. Negan would leave you positively high and dry until you begged him in a few days to screw your brains out of course.

"C'mere." Negan beckoned as he patted his thigh, eyes a little softer than they had been when you first came in.

You moved off of your knees for the first time in at least twenty minutes, the sudden change of scenery for your kneecaps making you hiss from the pain as you unbent your knees and stood to your feet, knees bruised from the large amount of time you spent kneeling against the concrete floor; especially when you shifted weight onto them. Despite the dull ache you placed one hand on Negan's shoulder to support you whilst you swung your leg over him and lowered yourself down onto his lap, a grunt passing from his lips when you fully settled down onto his groin, your legs on either side of him.

"You know," Negan started as he brushed some of your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear, "you're the only woman in this whole place that could pull a stunt like what you pulled and get off that easy," he grinned as he spoke, his eyes dragging over you as he placed his hand on the small of your back and drew circles on your skin. Now it was your turn to smile paired with a small giggle and a slight tilt of your head.

"That was getting off easy?" You remarked.

"Course it was."

A beat passed, and then he let out a long, quiet chuckle and gestured towards his chest with a playful sigh.

"C'mon."

You tucked yourself against his chest, the leather of his jacket clinging and creaking against your skin as he held you tight to him. Then you buried your head into the crook of his neck, getting lost in his scent as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, one standing out amongst all others.

"Shit. I love you, baby."

[oreosmama]

Hi! Already told ya but I really liked you ST headcanon❤️ could you make one with Billy (+ any other stranger things boys you want to add) about them accidentally hearing that y/n has feelings for them? It’s too cliched but such fluffy fluff is my air:>

He Accidentally Overhears You Have Feelings for Him (Stranger Things Headcanons)

*GIF not mine*

A/N: yeah so this took me like a month but also guess what i had to bullet point every single goddamned mfing line in this post by hand bc of tumblr's new formatting or whatever, and then i posted it on the wrong goddamn request so i had to do it twice so ig we all got probs kill me. Anyways, i kinda went overboard on this prompt bc i love billy so naturally no one else made it into the hc🤷‍♀️ what a shame👀 Enjoy!

Word count: 4856

Billy Hargrove: 

“I don’t like him.” 

Billy’s eyes fluttered open, and they glided lazily onto your form in the desk in front of him. With his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed, feet perched on his own desktop, Billy knew the teacher had long ago given up on scolding him for his lackadaisical behavior in class, and even longer ago had he realized Billy would never put much effort in anyway. 

One such happenstance that seemed to disturb the entire class, though, was how Billy had wound up there in the first place. Honors English didn’t exactly seem tailored to his, er, capabilities, to put it lightly. 

However, before Billy and his family had moved to Hawkins, Indiana, he’d been quite the student (according to the principal…after you’d complained), and lost in translation was some other lame excuse that English classes in California were inherently more advanced than those of Indiana anyway. 

You called bullshit. You had sworn Billy had bribed the teacher to let him remain in the class just to disrupt your existence. 

It wasn’t exactly his crowd, so to speak, judging by the glasses, focused faces, and pencils scribbling around the room. Nobody in the room looked like they’d even smelled a cigarette before—well, not until Billy arrived.

But you? God, you fit in like a glove. Here was where you divided yourself from the rest of the school, from its bullies and booze and tobacco—from its corruption. You were innocent when it came to such “paraphernalia,” as you called it. You were untouched, and more importantly, you were unclaimed. 

Billy was enthralled with this virtuous disposition of yours. In the beginning, his feelings for you,“little Miss Priss” as he’d grown to calling you, appalled him. Of all the girls in the school he could choose from, all the hot blondes that fawned over him in the halls and the enticing brunettes that asked him out after catching his eye for a moment, never did he think for a fucking second that it would be you. 

The prude. 

“Don’t like who?” Billy interjected harshly, dismissing how you and your friend flinched at his sudden interest. 

“No one!” you both mumbled, avoiding his gaze and spinning around in your seats. 

Billy’s brow rose at that, and the instant the bell rang, he kicked his feet off his desk and reached a hand toward you. You scooted forward in your seat the second his fingers brushed you, and Billy paused, a small ache in his chest disguising itself as irritation. 

Clenching his jaw, Billy curled his fingers around the back of your desk chair and dragged you back to him, the rubber stoppers on the ends of your chair legs squealing in protest against the polished floors. The teacher glanced up from his podium at the front of the class at the sound, an unimpressed look on his face, but was otherwise unconcerned about the situation unfolding. After all, it happened almost every morning. 

The teacher sighed and resumed calling roll. Billy kept one fist clasped around the back of your chair and one long leg outstretched beneath your seat, his boot situated around the nearest footing to stop you from scooting away. He leaned forward, hot breath rustling your hair as you sat stock-still, hands folded in your lap. 

“YN-”

You flinched. 

“-who were you talking about?” Though it was a question, he more demanded the answer than asked for it, because Billy would be damned if he had to listen to you and your friend giggle and jabber about your feelings for any guy that wasn’t him. 

Just the thought of another boy in the class catching your eye in general made him feel angry. 

No, maybe not angry. Sick was more like it. You weren’t his, and he knew that—fuck, he knew that all too well. He wouldn’t let it be that way for long, though. 

For months he’d tried to take his mind off you and place it, force it, on someone else. But when girls at parties and in his car, in hotel rooms or in their own goddamn bedrooms couldn’t eliminate the picture of you hot-glued to the forefront of his mind—couldn’t erase your secret smile when Billy had Sharpied a dick on Mr. Morrison’s board, or your glare when he’d tugged your seat over to his for the first time, or that feeling of your hand overtop his when he’d tugged on your hair to distract you, to bring your attention back onto him—Billy knew he had to give up on getting over you. 

He’d finally accepted that his only course of action was to keep your eyes on him just as his were locked on you. It was only fair. 

“Nobody,” you huffed under your breath. “Why do you even care?”

The tension on Billy’s face softened, relaxed as he looked over your form appreciatively, licking his lower lip. ‘Heres’ and ‘Presents’ resounded about the pair of you as Billy released his grip on your seat’s backing, settling the same arm on his desk and reaching up a hand to twirl a strand of your hair around his finger. “Oh, no reason, babe, just making sure I’m still in your good graces is all.”

You scoffed and twisted in your seat, yanking his hand from your hair with a grip on his wrist. “Were you ever?”

Billy held your gaze while simultaneously imploring to whatever asshole wandered around in the sky that you would never release your hold on him, and he allowed his lips to curl up into a real smile. So long he went without ever letting that happen, and then you showed up and now he never wanted to stop. 

Just as Billy reached up to brush a strand of hair from your forehead, the teacher reared his ugly, bald, fucking bastard head. 

“YN, Billy,” Mr. Morrison called aloud, his tone on the latter’s name far more irritated, and, of course, you sat at attention, turning away from Billy and tearing your hand away from his wrist. “Pay attention, please.”

“Sorry, sir.”

And just like that, you slipped from his grasp. You ignored Billy’s every poking and prodding of his pencil in your back for the rest of class and focused rather on whatever the hell Morrison was on about, curled over your notebook with your head ducked low.

It was only when Billy sighed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms, chest tight, that he realized your friend was watching from the corner of her eye with a small grin. 

Until Billy flipped her the bird, then she scoffed and looked away too. 

By the end of class, Billy’s head was dropped back, mouth open and releasing soft snores. The bell ringing didn’t wake him; what did was your courteous kick to his foot in order for him to release your chair, which he did, so you could push your seat in. Then you smacked his forehead with your notebook for good measure. “Wake up, asshole, class is over.”

He grunted, swatting away the offender. “You’re so kind to me, babe,” he grumbled bitterly. “What would I do without you?”

“Considering you spend every waking minute in this class annoying me, I truly, honestly don’t know.”

Billy smirked at that, gaze latched onto your form as you walked away side-by-side with your friend, whom you seemed to be shaking your head at. Sluggishly and with a yawn, he rose to his feet, lugging his bag over his shoulder and following your path out of the classroom. 

He lingered behind a few steps, stopping only to lean against a water fountain and pull a pack of Marlboros from his back jean pocket. He swiped the cigarette across his bottom lip before slotting it in the corner of his mouth and reaching for his lighter. 

“That’s not what this is,” you groaned, fiddling with the combination of your locker. 

Your friend hummed sarcastically, a mocking “Totally” on her lips from Billy’s distance away. He could barely hear the two of you, especially through the thick crowd of students flooding the halls, rushing to their cars and buses to get the hell out of school. 

Of course, you were lagging behind to study in the library, and, of course, Billy would be there to bother you for the next half hour before “suddenly remembering” he had a date.

Fuck, he hated it. He hated himself, and how easily you wound him around your little finger. He used to wish you were cruel; some cold-blooded bitch to him so it would be so much easier to dismiss his feelings and walk away. Instead, you were kind. The only fucking person who could battle back against his attitude and yet still care about his wellbeing. How many times had you tugged a cigarette from his mouth with a small, disapproving grumble, or silently placed a water bottle on his desk when he’d enter the classroom reeling from the effects of the night before?

He'd never met anyone that was too good for him. Not since…

Fuck. He hated this.

How? How did you have that power over him? When did you ever have time to wrench your hand into his chest, break past his ribcage and grab a fistfull of his heart just to steal it out and shake it in front of him like some cruel game of fetch?

“Goddamnit,” he huffed, eyes narrowed at his lighter that sparked fruitlessly. One last click, though, and a flame bloomed in his hand. 

“I swear it’s not! The guy’s an asshole. You know my grade is actually dropping in that class?” You slammed your locker closed, armfuls of textbooks hugged to your chest. “It’s because of him. Pretty soon, I’ll have an A-minus. Do you know how long it’s been since I've had an A-minus in a class?”

“Not as long as you haven’t had a D.” 

You blanched, whole body flinching like you took a punch to the gut. “I-... you-... that was totally uncalled for.” Your friend snickered. 

Billy, meanwhile, had grown infinitely more interested in the conversation, so much so that he had almost coughed out the smoke in his lungs. His eyebrows raised as he watched a flush rise to your cheeks. 

“You’re disgusting, you know that?” You pointed at her disapprovingly, but she only laughed more boisterously. 

“Oh, come on! Am I wrong?”

“Who cares about my…” you gestured at yourself wordlessly, floundering, “e-experience level? You really think that asshole is gonna solve that?”

“Easily.” 

You threw your arms in the air hopelessly at your friend’s deadpan, rolling your eyes. “No! Not happening! The only possible outcome is a newfound exposure to STDs.”

“Worth it.” Her hands snapped up in surrender at your glare. “Kidding. Just kidding.”

Slowly but steadily, the halls were clearing. Billy didn’t bother trying to disguise his watchful gaze as he inhaled another cloud of smoke, pulling the cigarette from his lips to tap the ashes out in the water fountain behind him. He let out the fumes in one long stream as he leaned a hip against the metal edge of the fountain, settling his other hand into a front pocket on his blue jeans. 

Billy waited, as he always did, like a predator ready to swoop in on his prey the second it was alone. Two blue eyes stay cemented on your form like a promise, a pledge of devotion. It was the yearning from afar that pained him the most, certainly because what excuse could he ever fabricate to explain himself? You hadn’t called his name—-your gaze hadn’t even accidently washed over him. You’d done nothing to gain his attention. You had done nothing but be, and for that, Billy was undeniably, absolutely addicted. 

He needed you.

Billy massaged two fingers at his temple, taking another drag with half-lidded eyes. 

“You better be.” You sighed, slamming your locker closed and clenching the straps of your backpack in your hands. “The day I actually throw myself into the arms of that aggravating jerk is the day I toss all of my self-respect in the trash.”

It’s me. It has to be.

She’s talking about-

“He’s not that bad if you think about it. Even you yourself said-”

“I know what I said,” you floundered, shoving a finger against her lips. “But—you know what—if we both ignore that I ever said it, then maybe, just maybe, my feelings will fade away, and we can both look back at my confession one day and laugh.” You pull your hand away from her, posing your hands on your hips righteously. “Laugh while knowing that my feelings for him were ridiculous and dumb and stupid and childish, and that I was just acting like a regular teenager with a little, stupid crush on some dumb boy-”

“You’re in love with Billy, aren’t you?” your friend deadpanned. 

Your face fell, and you pouted. “Yeah, fine, you’re right, I’ve got it bad.” 

-Me.

The cigarette fell from his lips, landing on the floor soundlessly. Billy stood at attention, his hand falling out of his pocket as the other dropped from his head. Love. YN is-

She’s in love with me.

All color in his cheeks disappeared, just as all the air in his chest. He couldn’t breathe, but in a good way, like the burn of surfacing from underwater for too long—like he was seconds away from the first gasp of fresh, sweet oxygen, after suffocating for so long.

He wanted this—fuck, he needed this. Who gave a damn if he deserved it or not, he was going to have you. You and the warmth of your hands; your smile and your laugh, all of your blushes and your tears.

All of it. Every single last ounce, he wanted it all.

He could fucking have it, too. 

She’s in love with me. 

Your friend grinned all too smugly. “You’re finally admitting it out loud, huh? Look at you, growing up right before my eyes. How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” you grumbled, still curled in on yourself, cheeks dusted pink.

“Your first real love confession to a boy.” She dropped both of her hands on your shoulders as your brows furrowed. 

“Does it really count if he’s not even here?”

“Nope,” she beamed, spinning you around in her grip. “Good thing he is!”

For a moment longer, you were still visibly confused at her words. The halls had long cleared, and the only sights and noises that now filled them were your wide eyes and quick gasp. 

“Billy.” His name slipped from your lips like an accident, tumbling out without a second thought and landing in the allconsuming silence of the hallway with a dull thud. 

He couldn't help it. God, he couldn’t fucking help it. 

The trembling that took hold of him, the shiver that began in the tips of his fingers and transferred up the length of his spine—he hated it because he had to hate it, but deep down he loved it more than anything else.

Because you were just so fucking perfect. 

Your eyes were glassy, like any second you were going to burst into tears. There was a small quiver of your lower lip, and, like a tidal wave, the overwhelming urge to feel that same quiver against his own lips, his skin, crashed into him. 

He really, really couldn’t help it. It was second nature. 

A corner of his mouth lifted, and his eyes glinted with condescension. “Is that right?” he hummed, amused. “Are you in love with me, YN?”

The pounding in his chest, the pregnant pause as he waited, the subtle, dizzying fog that began to flood his mind, all of it he ignored. He had to hear it. Say it again.

But he couldn’t help it, and the more your glistening eyes studied his face, tears threatening to overflow at the waterline, the more he could feel that sweet burn in his lungs turn painful once more. 

And it hurt so much worse when you twisted out of your friend’s hold and bolted. 

Your tennis shoes squeaked in protest against the vinyl composition tile, down the hallway and clear through the glass doors of Hawkins High, never turning back no matter how many times your friend called your name. 

When the doors slammed shut, a gust of wind followed and ruffled the stray curl against Billy’s forehead. The smirk had long fallen from his face. 

Your friend bit the inside of her cheek beside him, obviously searching for words of any kind to explain your reaction. “She’s just-… well, you kind of…” She huffed, adjusting her backpack straps against her shoulders. “Look, she’ll be back on Monday. She wouldn’t skip school, even out of embarrassment like that.” She threw him a sidelong glance. “Though, maybe next time you don’t respond like that, right?”

Billy’s face hardened, and he pulled the pack of cigarettes from his back pocket. He slotted a smoke in the corner of his lips. “Who gives a shit?” 

Your friend pursed her lips, observing as he struggled once more with his lighter. He gripped it with white knuckles, and the butt of his cigarette was crushed between his teeth. “Right,” she nodded with a sigh. “See you Monday.” Her footsteps trailed down the hall and away.

When the doors shut after her too, Billy spat out the smoke, hurling his lighter down the hallway with bared teeth. “FUCK!”

Monday. Fucking Monday?

Billy wrenched two hands in his hair, his nostrils flaring as he gnawed on his lips. It hurt, it all fucking hurt. Everything. 

She left, she fucking left. She ran away from you, and you know why too—it’s because you’re so weak. Why the hell would she ever want to be with someone like you? How could she ever be in love with-

Billy paused, his hands falling from his scalp, his shoulders rolling back. His head raised, slowly. 

Fine, you could have until Monday. But on that day, he was getting some fucking answers. 

The weekend didn’t pass by quick enough, despite Billy not remembering most of it. He recalled the party he attended that Friday night, the keg and the shots and what must have been some girl trying her best to come onto him. He remembered shoving her off one minute with a snarl and thundering towards his car, and then the next he was waking up in his own bed. He remembered working out and drinking Saturday and Sunday away, and he remembered waking up Monday with a healing bruise on his cheek, his father none too impressed that he’d drunk all the beer in the house in the span of two days. 

But who fucking cared, right?

Who gave a shit when his Camaro came squealing into the school parking lot, stopped parallel between three spots? Who gave a shit when he ambled Hawkins High halfway through the school day, his shirt unbuttoned down his chest, his cologne wafting after him everywhere he went?

And who gave a shit when he arrived in Mr. Morrison’s class, early for the first time in the six months he’d been in it, and planted himself in his seat, his legs kicked up on his desk, his arms folded up behind his head, blue eyes carefully watching the doorway. 

Because, yeah, you’d ran away from him. But you’ve been doing that for so long now, dancing out of his reach each time he wanted you, twisting out of his grip each time he almost had you. This was the first time you’d ever escaped him knowingly. 

Finally, he knew you loved him, and once more you got away. 

Of course, your little game of cat and mouse had to end like this—it had to end with him catching you. 

And catch you he did. 

God, you were so fucking beautiful, it actually made him ache. Your friend was shoving you in through the classroom door, two hands braced against your back despite you trying to wriggle away like a loose fish. 

Your face was red, completely, utterly red, like you’d just come back from running a marathon. Your eyes were darting around frantically, from the desks to the ceiling, and he knew you were actually considering your chances of escaping through an air vent. 

She’s in love with me.

He didn’t care. Suddenly, at the sight of you, he just didn’t fucking care anymore. He didn’t care that you ran, about the turmoil you’d caused him, about the misery that had been his weekend away from you. 

He couldn’t care for anything less because the second your eyes landed on him in that classroom and you let out the softest little squeal, all he knew was you, you, you.

So fucking cute.

Billy kicked his feet off his desk, reaching forward and pulling out your chair before patting the seat backing suggestively. Like clockwork, his smirk reformed on his face, a small glimmer of patronizing amusement in his eyes. 

“Come on, babe,” he simpered at you. “Don’t be shy. Take a seat.”

Come back to me. I need you.

Your eyes widened, and you squirmed in her grip once more. “Nope, I can’t do this.”

“Hush up and go.” One big shove from your friend and you were stumbling forward, scrambling to regain your balance. 

Billy silently urged you closer, gesturing down at your seat with his hands the closer you shuffled toward him. As he did, he drank in the sight of you, flushed and skittish, stumbling toward him like a baby deer on new, unsteady legs. He noticed the darkened skin under your eyes, most likely matching his own, though he doubted you and him were sleepless for the same reasons. 

When you ground to a halt in front of him, you gulped, your attention everywhere but on his face. 

“Hey, YN,” he practically purred, hands itching to reach out to you. 

“Hello, Billy,” you squeaked, dropping into your seat and gripping the bottom in an effort to slide the chair forward. Very quickly, though, you discovered Billy’s boot was already perched around the chair’s footing, and one hand had an iron grip on its back. 

“Going somewhere?”

“I guess not.”

Billy hummed. “I think you have something to say to me.”

“Umm nope, don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on, no need to be shy. I just wanna hear you say it,” he prompted, as his other hand glided up, curling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Tell me how you feel about me, YN.”

“I think you’re a jerk,” you whispered, turning back slightly to fix him with a flimsy glare. 

“Besides that. Tell me what you told me Friday, before you ran.” He tugged at the strand of hair, his brows raised expectantly. 

“I didn’t mean it-”

“Don’t-” Billy gritted his teeth, his hand leaving your hair to grip your chin, turning you to face him. “Don’t say that.” He watched as your eyes grew damp again, all soft and delicate and one small admonition away from bursting into tears. 

You were so fragile, so small in his eyes. It often made him wonder why he ever thought he should be the one you should be with. How could he ever hold you in his arms without tarnishing you?

So badly, he thought he wanted to have you just to dirty you, take away that purity that seemed to hover over your head, but there were some days where he knew that all he wanted from you was to make him believe he could hold on to something so clean.

He wanted it. So, so bad, he wanted whatever you would offer him. He wanted to hear those words straight from your lips. 

Your cheeks were so hot, he itched to cradle them in his palms and absorb some of that warmth. He wanted to wipe away all of the tentativeness with the pads of his fingers and leave behind the breathlessness, the pure affection that was its source. 

“You just want to laugh at me,” you whispered, your voice almost breaking. “You’re just going to tease me about it like you do with everything else.” You swept a hand underneath your eyes. “You’re so cruel, Billy.”

“Stop-” he hissed and shook his head, gritting his teeth. “You don’t get to say that. Not after all I’ve ever wanted is for you to love me back, you don’t get to fucking say that.” Billy seized your wrist, tugging you closer. “I know what I am. I know what I do.”

His pride was wilting away the more he spoke to you, the longer you didn’t pull away from him, and his mind pounded in indignation. At what point did you turn him into a complete lovesick fool, and was it before or after you first smiled at him?

If your wide-eyed look was any indication of your shock at his feelings, he wondered just how baffled you would be once you discovered his willingness to bend over backwards at your every plea. You would never take advantage of him, and he knew that, but the tendrils of doubt still crawled up his spine at the thought of leaving himself so vulnerable for you. 

 “But you, YN?” He traced his eyes over your face, huffing softly. “In all my life, I’ve never wanted something more.”

You stared at him, open mouthed. Your gaze was so surprised, so innocent that it actually frustrated him. How could you have not seen? How could you be so blind?

“So don’t you fucking say that it’s cruel of me, or selfish, or some other bullshit.”

You gasped when he tugged you closer by the wrist, his other hand encompassing your cheek. 

“Just say it again.”

His eyes darted over your face, desperate.

“Please.”

Your eyebrows twitched up at that, and your gaze grew tender, raking over his face slowly as if committing to memory. You paused at his lips, watching as they parted and pursed against one another. 

You’d worn him down. You’d exhausted him, mentally and physically. Of all the months he’d waited for your confession like this, he never thought the last few moments would be the most excruciating of them all. What more did you want from him? Already, he could feel the swell of anger at his throat ready to be unleashed, to lash out at you until you were in steady tears again just so he knew exactly what you were feeling once more. Billy wanted—no, needed—some part of you to be under his thumb, just so he could pretend, if even for a second, that your emotions for him were still in his range of sway.

Instead, his heart stuttered when the hand in his grip wormed away and pulled off the other that was at your cheek. You splayed his hand out on the surface of his desk, then you intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed. Your teeth worried at your bottom lip as you ducked your head. 

“I’m in love with you, Billy.”

His eyelids fluttered shut, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Finally. Fucking Finally.

You were his, completely. 

He couldn’t help it. He really couldn’t.

His hand found your chin, and he tipped your head up, gaining your attention.

“I fucking knew it,” he simpered, entirely too smug. And when you tried to scramble away, panicked and scared, his hand found the back of your neck and tugged you close, his lips landing on yours. 

In his hold, you grew lax, only your hand tensing around his. Your lips didn’t move against his, seemingly too tentative and inexperienced to truly indulge yourself.

Billy grinned into the kiss, far more pleased than anyone should be at the knowledge that he could leave marks on you in so many more ways than one. When he pulled away, he quickly cupped your face with a hand, thumbing at your lips in search of the remainder of his own warmth. 

“Library, after school?” he muttered, his mouth still curved.

“Only if you don’t have a date afterwards,” you grumbled. You could sass him all you wanted, and Billy couldn’t care less. He could hear your breathlessness and feel the heat in your cheeks, and pride flared in him knowingly. 

“Well, I might-”

“Are you guys done yet? ’Cause that was kinda gross.” Your friend dropped into the seat beside you, her nose wrinkled. You straightened up, unraveling yourself from Billy’s hold and nodding your head.

“Yep, yeah, definitely all done. Totally.” 

And just like that, you were gone. Billy bristled at your instantaneous lack of touch and threw a snarl at your friend, who only shrugged. 

Then she held out a hand, brows raised expectantly. 

“You owe me.”

Billy rolled his eyes, fishing his wallet out of the pocket of his jeans and rifling through it, passing her a ten dollar bill. 

“Keep the change.”

“With pleasure.”