#he is just so... i want to pinch his nose and pock him hard in the ribs lovingly

[macabrebat]

the motorbike ride sterling took farmer on... it had me giggling and kicking my feet,, his struggles w feeling inadequate w/o alcohol while hanging out w friends is something that so many of my close ones have confided in me about, they feel rly raw ahh. im glad he's found solace in my snack bars <3

[eremiie]

karma;

❥ 16k words | nsfw | eren x fem!reader

❥ content - eren eats reader out,, eren also fucks reader ;)

❥ you don’t care much for eren’s fuckboy habits until he fucks over your friend, and you’re left to deal with the consequences. and eren’s left to deal with a revelation neither of you saw coming

this is based off the song karma by summer walker, so feel free to take a listen!

"i just don't get it— like how foul could you be? if he didn't like me that's all he had to say, not play me like i'm some dummy,"

"historia," you stopped her ramble with a sigh, lifting your hand up as a gesture to say 'stop'.

"i told you, you should've just got with me." ymir snorted, throwing her hand around historia's shoulder, the blonde pouting, her eyebrows furrowing.

you place a hand on historia's lower back and gave her a condescending look. "i told you that you shouldn't mess with him, i wasn't trying to be dramatic or anything when i said that— i know eren... i gave you a heads up and you ignored it."

historia rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. "i didn't ignore it, i just... thought it'd be different."

you scrunched your face up and pinched the bridge of your nose. "why exactly did you think it would be different?"

"instead of giving historia shit, _____," ymir emphasized your name, squinting her eyes at you. "why can't i just rock him? a good punch to the face is maybe just what he needs—"

"ymir, punching him will not solve anything. plus, i doubt historia wants you to punch him either."

"she can speak for herself, idiot. historia, my love, would you like me to knock eren out?"

historia sighed. "no, i don't want anyone to get knocked out. this is so confusing... and not to interfere with your friendship or anything but how can you just go hang out with him right after?"

you looked down at historia, removing your hand from her back and giving her a raise of your eyebrow, looking forward to wear the three of you were headed. you were going to hang out with eren; he was your closest friend who you met in middle school, and now shared a dorm with. it was finally spring break, and as his bestfriend you were invited to spend some time with him and his family for the vacation. eren had you pack bags for the weekend and wanted you to meet him in the front of the building, so that's where your feet were taking you while you conversed with your friends you met on your way. "historia, i said i told you not to fuck with him, what happens between you and eren doesn't have anything to do with me." historia frowned at you and looked down at her crossed arms and you felt a small sense of guilt curdling in your stomach. "i'll talk to him though."

"right now? cause he's right there." ymir said using her head to tilt towards the benches once she pushed the large doors to the outside open. you looked up and ymir was right, from a distance was eren standing up next to a shag of blonde hair and two other people that you couldn't identify as they weren't facing you. almost on cue, eren looked up, head whipping to your figure and a small smirk creeped up on his face until his eyes landed on the two next to you, that smirk dissipating almost just as fast, and him quickly averting eye contact, mumbling something that caused the rest of his acquaintances to turn their heads around. you shook your head and patted historia's shoulder noticing she was glaring at eren, but not as hard as ymir.

"yes, now... uh, i'll catch you guys later." you said waving off to them. "don't worry too much about him historia." and with that you began walking off towards eren. you studied his appearance, hair lazily threw back into his signature messy bun while stray pieces shied away from it. he wore a simple grey sweatshirt with black sweatpants to complete the lazy look, white sneakers on his feet, and when you trailed your eyes back to his face a boyish smile was present.

"hey." eren said simply, arms stretched out to pull you into a warm hug that you reciprocated, your arms wrapping around his midsection as he snuggled you into him, resting his chin on the top of your head.

"hey, eren." you cheesed, pulling back to wave to the rest of the group. "eren's brother," you watched zeke chuckle from where he was seated. you used your finger to point to yelena after, "yelena, pieck and porco!"

"i'm assuming you know my name and you're just being a fool." zeke announced, making you giggle and place your hand on top of his blonde locks. although you didn't see the upperclassmen much, you had no problem remembering their names, especially zeke and pieck as you saw them the most.

"right, of course i know your name, zeke." you smiled. "but what's the gathering about eren?" you motioned to the clutter of people, looking towards eren who's eyes were already on you.

zeke was faster than eren, answering the question before him causing eren to narrow his eyes at his older brother. "eren, my favorite brother here wants to take my car to see his mom and my dad."

you laughed at his words, the enunciation on the last part of his sentence making eren's eye twitch. "first of all i'm your only brother." eren said, rolling his eyes.

"and you guys share the same dad." you grinned as zeke nodded his head at your clarification, another burst of laughter being let out by you and pieck who shook her head at zeke's antics.

"hi, _____, it's been a while since i've seen you." pieck said, waving her hand as well, her head laid down against the surface below her.

"hey, pieck," you slid down onto the bench taking a seat beside her, porco's hand snaking around her back instinctively. "yeah it has, but that's because you're a year above me." pieck chuckled and nodded her head.

"precisely..." she hummed, moving a strand of raven black hair out of her face, eyes trained in the direction ymir and historia walked off. "who were the girls giving eren the dirty eye?"

your eyes followed pieck's. "oh, historia... and ymir." of course, her out of everyone would notice that. you silently praised pieck for being so observant. you looked up at eren to see him avoiding your gaze, his bouncing left to right.

"what did eren do this time?" zeke asked you, propping his head up on his palm as if he was genuinely interested in the conversation, although you were sure it was just to make fun of eren. pieck gave a confused look, her eyebrows coming together as she glanced between the brothers and you.

"more like what did the girls do to eren." yelena said calmly, a bored expression present on her face, her arms crossed leaning forward on the table.

you averted your stare at eren and propped your arms up on the table like yelena. "well, the blonde girl likes eren and they were talking or something, and um... he was messing with some one else at the same time. she's not happy about that, even though i told her not to mess with him."

"so what i'm hearing is it's her fault for messing with him after you told her not to? lesson learned." yelena scoffed, her large eyes portraying a mocking sorrowful expression.

eren shifted uncomfortably at the new eyes on him, letting out an exasperated sigh. "listen,"

"eren, you really can't defend yourself here." zeke cut him off, eyes widening to poke at eren's expense.

"i didn't know she liked me!" eren blurted out, hands flying out from his sides.

"so your brother's a dumbass too?" porco snorted, eren glaring at him with a huff, crossing his arms back.

"pock—" pieck started, being cut off by eren's rising tone.

"i'm not kidding, i didn't know!"

"so you didn't know a girl who you fucked and kept texting you after had feelings for you?" your retort was quick, head inching forward as your eyes narrowed at eren as if he was dumb causing eren to glare at you too, his lips in a thin line at your statement before placing his hand out for zeke to place the keys in his hand.

"okay, whatever, let's go."

"someone's upset." pieck added before placing her hand on your shoulder. "bye, _____, see you at the club tonight?"

"club?" your ears perked. oh, the club. as well as vacation for spring break, majority of your first and second years decided to takeover a club not too far from campus before people left off for their families. you had already packed a dress for the event when you packed your bags last night alongside eren. the event had just slipped your mind. "oh, yeah, yeah. if eren still want's to go."

zeke slapped the keys in eren's hand, you getting up from the bench with a wave to the remaining three, going to stand beside eren. zeke stood up as well, bringing you into a suffocating hug, his beard grazing your forehead before pulling back with a pat to your shoulder. "well, see you. tell miss carla i said hello because eren won't."

you smiled at zeke before eren grabbed your hand with his free one, giving it a small tug. "don't worry, i will zeke."

with a small "c'mon," from eren, he began pulling you away, you trailing after the boy until the two of you reached zeke's parked car. "you really need to get your own car." you murmured to eren as he opened the back door for you to throw your bag in, alongside his, then the passengers side before walking around to the drivers.

"nah, zeke's is good for now." eren slid into the driver's seat, adjusting the chair before starting the car, giving you a one over to make sure you were comfortable, noticing the way your face shriveled up at the smell of the car. "smells like cigarretes?" he asked you, a small smile upturning on his face, his expression almost softening.

you turned your head towards him with a reciprocating smile at his observation. "yeah, but it's okay. your mom's house isn't too far anyways." eren pulled out of the parking lot, letting your last statement resonate in the air while he watched for cars behind him, hand on the back of the head of your seat, brows furrowed in concentration while you opened up your phone, scrolling through your socials. you noticed the party tonight was the talk of today, almost everyone of your mutuals on your feed talking about it. it didn't sound too bad, and you didn't mind going either, getting to see your friends was enjoyable. "so we're going to that party?"

eren's eyes shot to your face from the rear view mirror, lingering for a little before going back to the road ahead. "as long as you want too— i mean, i want to. why? you don't have something to wear? i thought we packed last night."

"dummy, i'm just confirming with you. i have something to wear, you literally watched me pick out my clothes."

eren stayed silent for a couple minutes while beginning to grin at you unconsciously. "yeah, i saw it, the dress. i was gonna say you could borrow one of my moms if you didn't have one." he joked, looking to you to watch you give him a raise of your brow and an upturn of your lip.

"you're such an idiot." you looked back down to your phone to switch apps. "who's gonna be there that i know? i know sasha will probably go, i haven't seen her lately."

"me." eren said matter of factly, not even looking your way for a reaction.

you rolled your eyes, hitting him on the shoulder lightly. "i'm serious."

"im serious too."

"eren!" you whined his name, his look fixing on you again at the sound of his name before shifting away just as quickly.

"you know, the usual... sasha will probably be there, armin probably wants to see annie or something... connie... maybe jean, or reiner or whatever."

"or whatever." you mocked eren, lowering your tone to try to get his voice spot on, causing him to slap your thigh hard, you yelping and dropping your phone to rub at the abused spot, your leer shooting daggers at eren. "i'm telling carla when we get there."

eren only laughed, bringing his hand back to your thigh and moving your hand to soothe the supple skin with a flitting rub while you pouted at him. "she'd hurt me if i hurt you."

"you did!" your voice raising slightly, hand moving his away but not before pinching the skin on top causing him to hiss.

"sorry." his hand returned to your hand sitting on your leg, giving it a small squeeze of reassurance while he studied your face just in case you had a negative reaction.

you let his palm linger, the feeling almost comforting, and... and what? you couldn't pinpoint it, but for the majority of the rest of the ride, his hand stayed until he had no choice but to remove it when steering. a sense of anxiousness was relieved when he did, but you couldn't figure out why.

                                 彡

"go inside, i'll get our bags, my mom will be happy to see you." eren said, signaling to his front door with your hand, and you nodded walking to the small house. a sense of nostalgia was washed over you. you vaguely remembered coming over to eren's house so often and spending so much time with him, mikasa and armin. of course, mikasa being so busy with her own studies could only visit so much, but there were many times she came back to visit alongside you and eren, armin occasionally visiting as well although he had family to go back to as well. you and eren constantly did almost everything together, from indulging in video games he used to side eye you for wanting to play with him, to helping his mom in the kitchen with a grumble from eren, to getting into heated arguments and having to sit on the couch with carla since eren would kick you out of his room, only to be scolded by carla only minutes later. it was all enjoyable memories, even the arguments, and thank goodness to the closeness of the college to eren's old house. you were able to visit and relive those memories so often, a sense of warmth washing over you each and every time.

not only were you thankful for the proximity of carla's house, but you were thankful for her constant efforts to keep you and eren close. she was the one who suggested requesting a shared dorm, the one who constantly asked eren to bring you over, the one that never failed to ask about you every time she called eren. if you and eren ever lost your bond she'd be the first to know.

you walked up the steps, the door already unlocked as carla anticipated your arrival. as soon as you opened the door the significant scent of linen and apple flooded your nose, along with whatever she was cooking up. the mass of carla's dark hair was in your line of sight once you turned your head to the side, her body stood in front of the stove, and she whipped her own head around hazel eyes almost bulging out there head when she spotted your figure at the front door. "_____!" she exclaimed, immediately dropping the pan she was holding back onto the stove and rushing to you, embracing you in a loving hug. "my baby, i missed you so much! eren brought you!"

and eren, always on time stepped in behind you, his tall figure towering over you and his mom with two bags in his hand.

"and my real baby, oh i missed you both so much." carla pulled away giving you chaste kisses on side of your face, her long eyelashes fluttering against your skin as she cradled your jaw with her nimble fingers. her apron decorated around her waist smelled of fresh cooking, but her perfume lingered as well giving off a haze of peppermint.

she moved towards eren, her hands cupping his face and pressing a kiss to his cheek as well, moving her fingers to tug on his ear playfully before drifting down to his shoulder, patting his chest then pulling the bags out of his hand. "mom—" eren murmured, twisting his face at his mom's protectiveness as she dragged the bags out of his hand, going over to place them beside the staircase before coming back over, hands clasped in front of her guests.

"no, you just came, no need to try to put stuff away yet." carla said with a cheery smile, still elated at the arrival of the two of you. "i'm so glad you're here, i just finished cooking so let's all sit and eat before you try to do anything else." she began walking back towards the pan she left on the stove, head turned back with a knowing look at eren who would try to go put the bags upstairs. "come sit." and you and eren made your way to the round dining table, four seats present, yet only three would be filled.

"where's dad?" eren asked as he sat down, pulling the chair out for you first while you fiddled with your fingers, watching carla plate the lunch she prepared.

carla's movements slowed as she sat in thought for a couple seconds. "oh... he's at work, like always you know." eren looked down, nodding his head.

"so how's school going?" carla asked, heading over to place down a bowl. "chicken pasta salad, it's good, eat." she used her head to motion towards the food.

"it's going good, luckily i don't have that heavy of a workload like others, it's bearable, but of course still hard." you replied, as she brought over plates and cutlery, setting them down in front of eren and you, both of you immediately scooping some pasta onto your plates.

"and you, eren?"

"it's fine, mom."

"how about football? is that going good?"

"yeah, it's good too." you winced at eren's lack of effort in the conversation, hitting his elbow with your own, him giving you a confused expression before he placed his full fork in his mouth.

"zeke told me to tell you hi." you told carla as she came to sit in front of the two of you, plating her own food, eyes widening at the mention of zeke's name.

"really?"

"yeah."

"well then how's zeke doing too then?"

"i don't know, i don't see him much, eren could probably tell you." you gave eren the opportunity to talk, looking at him to cue him to say something while you took another forkful of the pasta.

"he's probably fine too, i don't see him much either." eren replied with a shrug of his shoulders, picking at his food, and you sighed.

"how's sharing a dorm going? i hope eren's not too much, i know he can be a ruckus."

"it's good too, he's a better roommate than i thought he'd be at first." you let out a small laugh, remembering eren's old antics, how messy his room used to be, the dark green of his walls and the miscellaneous decorations he used to have sprung around. you couldn't wait to go upstairs and check that out again. "he's still a little messy—"

"but she always nags me to clean up so that doesn't matter." eren cut you off before you could attempt to compliment him and you rolled your eyes.

"i wasn't gonna say anything bad. yeah he cleans up a little more now but i always have to pick up a sock or something. plus, i'm the one who has to clean up before someone comes to visit. like mikasa or armin or something." you chose not to mention the countless girls that'd come in and out too.

carla pursed her lips looking up at eren with a slightly disappointed look. "you always have to keep your workspace and your room clean, eren. especially in the presence of others, i didn't tell you that all the time for no reason."

"i know, i know, mom."

"no you don't because if you did you'd keep your area clean in respect for ______." carla placed more of her food in her mouth with a shake of her head before moving her failing ponytail to her back from her shoulder, then looking up at you. her doe eyes were just like eren's, he was the spitting image of her and it's one reason why you could never forget her face. "how's mikasa and armin?"

"they're good too, mikasa couldn't come this time, she has too much going on i guess— but she's fine!" a slight moment of worry crossed carla's face, eyebrows turning up and lips frowning as she twirled her fork in the food in front of her.

"hopefully she can come next time, tell her to relax. poor girl, always has so much on her plate. i remember when she used to be here she constantly had to do eren's chores for him, what a doll."

eren scratched his head, looking down at his almost empty plate. "i did work too, she didn't do everything for me."

carla ignored eren's add on."and armin?"

eren answered before you could. "he's good too."

"i hope so, he's such a sweet boy." carla hummed. "so how long are you guys staying? and how long's your break?"

"only a week, we'll be here for this weekend cause zeke is gonna need his car back." your plate was almost finished as well, fork scraping against the ceramic.

"yeah, but later today we're heading back up to go to a party." eren said nonchalantly, eyeing his fork as he spun it in his hand.

"i hope that's okay with you— if you don't want us to go we don't have to." you hastily added in consideration for carla, eren's green eyes narrowing at you with a small frown. he clearly wanted to have some fun tonight.

"no, no! that's perfectly fine, you'll be here for the whole weekend, i'll let you kids have your fun." carla smiled. "i'm just glad you came earlier than waiting until after the party cause i know you'll get back late and i'll probably be sleeping. who's birthday is it?"

"it's not a birthday." eren stuffed the last of his food in his mouth, chewing before continuing. "just a spring break party before everyone goes home."

"oh? so that's what you do in college nowadays?" carla laughed, peering at eren's plate, content that he finished his food. you joined her in laughing, ushering yourself to finish up as well, knowing eren might get impatient with your pace at eating.

"i guess. there are parties all the time. but how have you been?"

carla beamed at your asking. "i'm good! nothing much, i wait for grisha to come home, although i'm usually just here alone. i have my hobbies though, i'm fine. i've been trying to make friends with the neighbors too, they have some younger kids that are enjoyable." as you listened to carla you finished your food as well, her getting up to gather the empty plates and take them to the sink. "thank you for asking, _____. eren, honey can you put the top on the pasta and put it in the fridge? i'll make dinner later just in case you want something else when you get home tonight."

eren pushed his seat back, standing up to do as his mom said, wandering towards the fridge. "that's fine, we should just give you a break, we'll eat the pasta again when we get back, you can just relax, right eren?" you said, watching carla and eren maneuver around the kitchen while you got up to wash your hands at the sink beside carla.

"yeah that's cool too. you don't have to cook mom."

carla pouted endearingly at the two of you with an "awe," leaving her lips. "the two of you are so sweet. i'll clean up, you can go upstairs now." and with that you and eren left her to her own devices, eren grabbing the bags at the stairs and almost pushing you up the stairs.

"that was good, i'm full." you sighed, as you walked beside eren down the hall until he opened the door to his old room. the walls were still a muddy green, a decision you're sure he probably regret now. miscellaneous posters decorated his wall, an oak desk sat idle in the corner of his room beside a collection of simple books. his bed was made, navy comforter sprawled out on the bed and plump pillows sitting pretty. his bed was big enough for the two of you to share, but carla always asked if you wanted to sleep in mikasa's room when you came. you always declined. "look at your certificates." you pointed to the certificates framed on the wall as eren set the bags down on the floor beside his desk.

"shut up." eren grabbed your wrist, pulling you towards his bed until you collapsed onto it beside him. “'m tired." he groaned, his face down into the cover below him, arm slumped over your waist where you laid. you were going to pester eren about his situation with historia, but you decided to leave him alone for the time being.

"you can take a nap before we leave."

eren turned his head to the side so his cheek was smushed against the bed instead, looking at your form, your head pointed towards the ceiling. "you wanna take one with me?"

you faced eren, giving him a stank face before poking his cheek. "just cause you're tired doesn't mean i am. i'll lay here though, i'll wake you up when we should start getting ready." you slipped your phone out of your pocket to check the time. "you have until like five thirty-ish. it's four."

eren squeezed your side, that same anxious feeling rising as he did so, pulling you a little closer, eyes shutting. "take a nap with me."

"no."

"c'mon."

"eren, i'm not tired." he opened his eyes again, piercing green blue hues staring at you head on. he removed his arm from around you, picking his head up and scooting up to his pillow, now facing away from you with a huff. "whatever, i'll wake you up later." he didn't respond, and around fifteen minutes after, once he was asleep you got up from the bed.

shuffling downstairs, you turned the corner to the living room, seeing carla seated on the couch watching tv. "hi, mrs. carla." you said lowly, her head turning back fast as usual, and simpering when she saw your face.

"you're okay?" her hand moved to find the remote, turning down the volume on the tv as you came to sit beside her. her soft hand found yours, grasping it. "enjoying the stay so far, right?"

"of course. eren's sleeping so i wanted to keep you some company."

"that's too sweet of you. he's doing fine too, right?"

"yeah, probably just tired from staying up all night. he was up pretty late yesterday." you reminisced on the small argument you had with eren just the previous night before, you pestering him about his reluctance to sleep, him making you irritable being on the phone with who knows in the dead of the night.

carla nods her head in understanding. "so tell me more about the party."

you look up to the ceiling in thought as she rubbed your knuckles. "well, eren wants to go more than me. i wouldn't have minded staying here if he wanted too, but i guess he wants to see some people."

'hm, are you going to see some people?" she wiggled her shoulders in a taunting manner, and you chuckled in response.

"nope, just gonna chill."

"well... don't get too drunk or anything. i want my babies safe...” she looked at you with large eyes, curiousity present on her face. “are you seeing someone?" she asked abruptly.

you were slightly caught off-guard by the question, but were a little glad carla felt so comfortable basking in your private life. "we won't, don't worry. but um, no i'm not."

"i see... is eren? anything he's not telling me?" you pondered, not wanting to tell too much about eren's own personal relationships despite it being his mom. i mean— would you want someone telling your mom about you breaking girls hearts? you decided to enlighten her a little bit, make her feel like she was somewhat apart of eren's romantic life.

"he doesn't tell me much either, to be honest. i guess he's just trying his luck with girls. he has no problem catching their attention anyways, so i don't think you have to worry much about that."

carla looked at you, an unreadable expression visible on her face through the small moment of silence. she let go of your hand, putting hers back in her lap. "i'm glad you know it too." she half joked, looking to her lap. "... trying his luck?"

you shrugged your shoulders, feeling a tad bit uncomfortable, letting your hand come up to scratch at your jaw. "something like that... i don't know, he's just doing his own thing."

carla's eyes darted back and forth between you and her legs, trying to find something to say, mouth opening and closing every time she thought she had came up with the right words. "_____, i really like you, and enjoy your presence you know. you're really great to eren, i appreciate that. i want you to keep looking out for him, i want the best for him. whatever he has going on, help him figure it out, be the best version of himself as possible."

your words were so vague but you felt like she saw right through them. her words were so vague and you had trouble deciphering them.

"... of course, yeah, i'm looking out for him, he's my bestfriend."

"yeah... that's also true." carla sighed, and you hope she didn't notice the confusion that crossed your face for a brief moment.

saving you from the slightly awkward silence, carla turned the volume up on the television, the two of you sitting and watching whatever was present on screen.

soon enough, eren's foot steps were heard, both you and carla turning your head to see eren standing at the bottom of the steps, and irritated tired look on his face. he rubbed at his eyes, moving away some of the stray hairs in his face before slapping his palm back down to his thigh.

"what are you doing?" his voice was rumbly and deep from sleep, tone impatient.

"talking to your mom?" your response was more of a question, carla patting your thigh for you to get up.

"its six thirteen."

"i left my phone upstairs with you, grumpy." you glanced to carla. "he's always like this when he wakes up."

"i can recall." a chuckle left her lips as she shooed you away. "the two of you can get ready."

so you followed eren back upstairs, toeing behind him until you got to his room. you scurried to get your attire and products from your bag, and with your belongings in hand, you went off to the bathroom to get ready and give eren his own privacy.

soon enough you were dressed and freshened up. your strapped blush silk dress adorned with ruches up the side hugged every curve of yours, while your hair sat pretty. you sighed in content, grabbing your perfume bottle and spritzing yourself, the smell of vanilla engulfing your senses. you looked at yourself in the mirror appreciating the way you looked, your lips glossed, and your earrings dangled just above your shoulders.

from the mirror view you could see eren come in behind you, his eyes trailing down your body from your reflection in the mirror. you didn't bother facing him, only stepping slightly to the side to take a look at him as well, a plain black shirt on his upper half, accompanied by black jeans as well, and some sneakers. his pendant hung in his hand, gold watch to match on his left wrist. of course, he never did much to his hair, as it was still pulled back in the same ponytail from before his nap.

"sit down on the toilet." eren side eyed you before sitting on the lid of the toilet, you coming up in front of him to pull the hair tie out of his hair. "your hair's a mess, and i'll put the necklace on."

surprisingly, no complaints from eren arose, he sat quiet as you carded your fingers through his brown locks, pulling his hair back into a neater bun, flyaways still decorating his face in a more purposeful manner. hair tickled the back of his hair as well, but you liked the messy look. you grabbed the pendant from his rough hands, unclasping the back before putting it around his neck, him leaning forward to give you a better angle while he stared down at your feet. "better."

eren looked over you from where he sat on the toilet seat, a calm face present. "aren't you gonna get cold? or your feet might hurt." he pointed to your white heels detailed with clear.

"i'll be fine," you dusted his shoulder before he stood up, once again towering over you, seemingly more intimidating now that he stood straight up. "i have a jacket that i'll put in the car."

you and eren made your way back downstairs, your jacket and phone now in hand, eren likewise. carla practically gasped at the sight of you two, her eyes growing like saucers at your attire. "you guys look so cute!" she came over, taking your hands into hers. "all grownup."

"mom..." eren exasperated, grabbing your wrist to pull you more towards the front door, away from carla.

"eren, it's okay," you pulled out of his grip, turning back towards her. "thank you so much."

carla smiled, heading towards eren. "and my handsome boy," she swiped at his shirt, making sure there were no dust particles on it much like you had did earlier, then tugging at the key pendant on his neck, straightening the necklace. "you guys be safe, i love you."

eren placed his hand over his mom's, moving it down from the chain and back into her own vicinity. "yeah, love you too." his hand made a 'come on' gesture, and with a tilt of his head, you were following him again. "let's go."

                                       彡

"eren, wait." he didn't hear you, still making his way around the crowd of bodies, annoyance creeping up in your veins as you tried to keep up with him. "eren!" still, no response, only him still moving forward making you groan in annoyance. you rolled your eyes for the umpteenth time, and let them land on the bar next to you. "hitch!" you called out, her and the blonde next to her turning towards the sound of her name being called, who you soon recognized as annie.

hitch waved you over excitedly, almost bouncing in her seat at the sight of you. you made your way over, sitting beside her as she pulled you into a tight hug. "____, hey! didn't really think you'd be here."

"why not?" you hummed, bartender looking your way to see if you would hint that you wanted a drink.

"not sure, i just thought you'd be chilling in your room right about now. i was just telling annie about some boys, there's a lot of cute ones here if you want to get some."

"i'm good." you peered down at her drink, clear liquid detailed with greenery, a lime sitting on the side of the glass. "what are you drinking?"

"a mojito," hitch wiggled her eyebrows as she recalled the drink in a sing song voice. "wanna try it?" she pushed it towards your lips. you shrugged your shoulders sipping at her straw without a care. the drink stung a bit, your face twisting as you shook your head.

"i'll just get a martini. what's annie drinking?"

"dunno, probably water." hitch moved a piece of her hair behind her ear, glancing at the clear liquid in front of annie. "oh, yeah. like i was saying..." her voice trailed off to you as you began to talk to the bartender, ordering yourself a martini.

you sipped on your drink, only half listening to hitch. every time she tried to confirm that you were listening by going "right, _____?" you would nod your head even if you couldn't remember the last thing she said.

"_____, _____!" a familiar raspy voice was calling your name, pulling you out of your thoughts. you, hitch and annie once again looked towards the source of the sound, sasha's hand outstretched in your direction as she came forward, dragging along connie. "hey, you're here!"

you shot sasha a smile, putting down your drink and embracing her into a side hug, waving at connie as well. "hey, sash! yeah, how'd you know?"

"i went to go find connie so he could buy me a drink, and i saw eren and asked if you were here too. he said you didn't know where you were though, but what a coincidence." sasha made herself comfortable in the seat beside you, connie staying standing as there were no more seats to the left of sasha. "what's that?" she pulled your martini forward, putting it to her lips with no hesitance, beaming at the taste. "this, what's this?"

you laughed at sasha's antics, her presence making the event at hand all the more better, you missed hanging out with her, only having night classes with her the semester before. "it's a martini."

"yeah, connie, get me this!" connie let out a sigh and went to the other side of the bar where there was seating to comfortably order and wait for sasha’s drink. "he's so nice, i literally forgot my wallet, and that would've been so tragic if they had some good food here." sasha hummed, reluctantly pushing your drink back over in front of you. "how long have you been here?"

"not for long," you responded, taking another sip of your drink. "maybe like thirty minutes or so, eren left me like as soon as we got here so i've just been sitting with hitch and annie." you gestured to the girls beside you, hitch engaging annie in more conversation who almost forcibly listened, seeming to care less, although hitch told her anyways, getting the occasional nod from the blonde.

"oh, i've been here for like an hour now, i met this really cute boy. i don't know his name but he's blonde, and cute, like really cute." she clasped her hands together at the thought of the boy. "i danced with him, he was so nice, i need to find him again tonight." when connie returned with her drink she thanked him profusely, hugging his arm dramatically before letting him go so he could return to his other friends, waving off to you once more.

"well, find out his name maybe."

"i had it, i just forgot!" she pondered. "i think it started with an m, or an n or something, i don't know." you laughed again, taking another drink of the beverage in front of you ice basically being left in the glass, sasha beginning to drink hers as well. "you should come out to the floor and dance, it's literally so fun. plus, everyone else would probably wanna see you. historia is here! jean is too, and like— some other people."

"are you gonna finish your drink first?" you had no problem going out to dance, although you rather just watch from the outside.

"i'll take it with me. is that a yes? c'mon!" sasha exclaimed, picking her drink off the table and pulling you from your seat. you and sasha made your way through the surplus of bodies until you felt the surface under your heels change. you didn't see anyone you knew but you were sure sasha did as she perked up then looking back at you. "there's the boy, look!" you followed her direction of sight a boy with a middle part, blonde strands flopping at the sides of his forehead. he was cute for sasha, and the joy that glowed on her face made you smile.

you truly did miss her, and the excitement she brought into your own life, coercing you to go out to eat with her, begging to come over after classes despite it being night, and pushing you to attend parties and events.

"can i go over to him?" sasha begged, tightening her hold on your arm before making puppy dog eyes. "look," and with her finger she pointed towards a connie, him speaking while moving back and forth to the song playing loudly, music filling your ears. "connie is over there, i'll take you over." you sighed but couldn't help but cast a smile at her, her hickory ponytail bouncing as she took you over to connie.

connie was in the midst of talking to jean, who you recognized right off the bat, his ash brown hair scaping his neck, eyebrows lifting when he saw you approach with your friend. "connie— and jean, hey, jean. look who's here." connie glanced at you, then to sasha.

"i saw her earlier." he said, pausing from talking, his movements slowing. "but, hey again, _____." connie punched your shoulder lightly in a joking manner.

"well, i didn't," jean's hand rested on his chest as he spoke before pulling you into a hug moving the drink in his hand to the side as he did so, cheesing at you. "hey, _____. when did you get here?"

"when eren got here, if you've seen him."

jean's smile disappeared, an "oh," leaving his mouth blankly. "you look nice. how's everything?"

you stepped forward, closer to jean and connie as sasha left your side to go talk to the mystery boy. you grinned at the compliment, showing your appreciation. "thanks... i'm good, how about you?" you only really heard about jean through eren and sasha, also seeing him around campus more often than not. he was good company for the times you've been around him, but you and mikasa had to constantly get him out of scuffles with eren although they were pretty good friends.

"good, that's good. i'm good too. you're just now getting on the floor?"

"yeah, thanks to sasha. why? you wanna dance with me or something?" you joked, nudging jean's shoulder, earning a small laugh from connie as well that you could barely hear.

"jean you better watch it, this my girl." connie interrupted playfully, snaking his hand around your waist and pulling you closer in spite of jean. jean glared at connie before letting his drink run down his throat again, adam's apple bobbing.

"yeah, yeah, _____, wanna dance?" you complied, connie letting go of you and off to do his own thing as you came more up to jean, moving side to side with him as you mouthed the lyrics to the song. you relished in your movements, being able to loosen up and just dance, jean fluently following your movements as well, frequently mumbling the lyrics he knew. when granted you turned around letting your back hit jean's chest, his lip upturning as he looked down at you, watching you do your own thing. his free hand came down to your side to hold you in place as you danced, feeling the song playing. he studied your face from what he could see, noticing how carefree and relaxed you look. "looks like you needed a night out." he said loudly so you could hear.

"i guess. it's just nice to be able to see all of you at once, just letting myself live a little, especially since i don't get out a lot."

"you really don't. you should talk to sash more, have her bring you to some more parties or something like you used to always come to."

you bent over slightly, only so that you were no longer pressed flush against jean, letting your rear grind against him a bit. "you miss me? you can invite me out too you know, just depends if i'm feeling it that day or not."

"so you're asking me to text you more?" jean took your movements lightly, hand still resting at your side, his own body surprisingly cool albeit your actions, continuing to drink the beverage at hand.

you snorted picking yourself back up and adjusting your dress, swaying your hips once more. "jean kirschstein; always a flirt." jean and you both laughed, and he tapped your hip before gesturing towards the bar.

"you know it— but, i'm gonna get a refill, you enjoy yourself." jean began walking away, pep in his step and you chuckled to yourself, standing around until you took it upon yourself to find someone else you knew.

you walked slowly, looking for a familiar face, sasha almost nowhere to be found. you contemplated going back to the bar to sit down with hitch and annie again, or go converse with jean again, but you spotted armin wandering around almost aimlessly in the crowd as well, your face lighting up at the sight. "armin!" you called out, and thank goodness for his sharp ears, the blonde turning around almost immediately at the sound of his name. his smile was large and he came over,

"______!"

you brought armin into a side hug, a funny look on your face. "armin, hey. you looking for someone?" you asked, referring to his walking around just seconds before you called for him. the blonde scratched the back of his neck, nodding his head with a nervous laugh. "yeah, um... annie, i was looking for annie." your mouth dropped into an 'o', eyebrows lifting up in surprise. you remember eren foreshadowing that armin would be there for annie, and it made you giggle.

"annie?" you smirked, watching his eyes dart around the club, avoiding your eyes. "well, i think she's at the bar talking to hitch. want me to come with?" you weren't planning on grabbing another drink, as you could already feel some of the alcohol buzzing through, but you of course weren't drunk, and you needed it to stay that way.

you felt a hard slap of a hand on your shoulder, whipping your head back to see sasha all bugged eye standing behind you, a concerned expression crossing your face. armin, noticing the drift of your attention gave a curt nod. "no, it's fine, i'll find her." then walking off in the direction of the small bar.

"_____, guess what, guess what!" sasha exclaimed, turning you around by your shoulder, her cheeks high from smiling hard, face flushed from the countless drinks you assumed she must've had since you saw her, another one present in her hand as you spoke. you could only wonder who bought her it.

"hi, yes sash, what's up?"

"the guy— he's literally so cute, and guess what!" she repeated, eager to have you try to guess her next statement.

"um what? you got his number?"

she profusely shook her head, bangs whipping back and forth as she stabled herself on your shoulder, pulling down the dress she was wearing before leaning into your ear. "he can cook too, he told me he's a chef, i mean can you believe that? i don't even know if i want to take him home." she giggled before pulling away, eyes going up to the ceiling in thought. "i should probably get his number too, shouldn't i?"

"well if you're not gonna take him home then you should probably get that now."

"oh, no," her hand paused on your chest while she took a swig of the alcohol in hand. "i'm taking him home for sure, i just got to get the number too, he's so sweet!"

sasha's energy was a lot, her eyes darting around once more. "look, eren's coming over," she pointed with her drink behind you and you turned back to indeed see eren heading over to the two of you, his eyes pointed down at his feet as he watched his step around the excess bodies of sweaty people clashing around him, careful not to step on any feet. "i'm gonna go use the bathroom because i really have to pee, then i'm gonna get his number, ok?" sasha said, you saying an "okay," as she stumbled away to find the bathrooms.

just as she stepped away, eren stepped forward, him placing his hand on your lower back to push you more towards him and get you away from other people. "hey," he said in a louder tone for you to hear.

"hey." your feet moved with eren's as you noticed he was side stepping in an effort to dance less awkwardly, making you hold back a laugh.

"are you enjoying the party?"

"yeah, its nice. i've seen a lot of people so far."

eren peered down at you, eyeing you with another indecipherable look, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip and his eyes squinting slightly. he moved his hand to your side in effort to turn you around, leaning down to your ear. "enjoy yourself a little more, dance with me, i haven't seen you all night."

you looked at eren, his head near your ear causing the deviate hairs on the side of his head to tickle you. "i am... and that's your fault, you left me almost as soon as we got here."

eren ignored your last statement, pressing his palm to the dimples of your back. "lower." he droned, curiosity crossing his face as he wondered if you would comply or not, although he was just messing around.

"eren!" you slapped his arm, another foreign feeling coursing your skin as he tittered in your ear before pulling back.

"what? you're my bestfriend, i'm just messing, plus you'd be at like— my legs anyways." eren gave you a testing gaze, watching you lift a brow up at his slick words. with courage, you challenged eren, pushing back on him a little more, letting your backside brush against him in the slightest playfully. eren's hand stiffened on your side before he turned you back around.

"did you feel that in your legs?" you didn't think eren would take you seriously. you could play around with each other like that, and sometimes you did.

"woah, stop..." he let out a shaky laugh, it sounding more like a huff of breath. "uh, i'm gonna go head over for another drink... do you want one too? i'll pay." his voice came out almost in a pleading manner, but you shook your head brushing him off.

"it's cool, one of us has to stay sober— i wouldn't want you crashing zeke's car either, he'd kill you."

"whatever... but, you sure?"

"yes, i'm sure... i'm gonna go find somewhere to sit anyways, i'm kind of sick of standing."

"i told you your feet were gonna hurt."

"i didn't say they hurt, i said i was sick of standing, stupid. go get your drink." you pushed eren forward a little bit, him looking over you one more time before letting you go, heading in the direction of the same bar almost everyone you had encountered had sat at at least once today.

you wanted to find somewhere to sit, and it wasn't too hard, a broad seating area with small lounge couches and seating in the corner of the club, and sitting one of the couches was pieck, surveying the area, a peaceful expression on her face as she sat with porco. you mentally high fived yourself for spotting another one of your acquaintances, striding over, watching pieck's face practically glow at your arrival, porco not caring much. "pieck," you held your hands out, gesturing to the dark haired girl. "comes to a party, and lays down with porco for half of it."

"so you finally found me." was the first thing she said, intertwining one of her hands with yours and pulling you down to sit with her, laughing at you. "i was out there earlier, and now i'm drinking. pock here wouldn't even let me be out there for too long if i wanted too."

"and let those filthy hands touch you? damn right." he grumbled, arm swung around the back of the seat the three of you were seated on.

"see? pock; forever the life of the party." pieck mimics your earlier tone, using her hands to gesture out like you before the two of you burst into fits of laughter. "but, i saw you being the life of the party and dancing out there."

you scoffed. "barely, i danced with only a couple people, that's all."

"sasha, jean, eren." she leaned forward, bumping you with her hand that held her drink.

"why'd you say eren like that?"

pieck looked to porco, almost snorting at your obliviousness before looking back at you. "he was watching you when you were getting down with jean, then you kind of... got down with him too." her eyes got wide mockingly, before she giggled at her own words, downing some of her alcohol.

"barely," you said again. "i'm just friend's with both of them— and jean is just naturally flirty i guess. i'm just chilling, like you."

porco looked over at your last sentence, eyeing pieck with a muddled guise, her catching on before lightly rubbing his hand that sat on his thigh in security. "not chilling like that, pock, she means i'm just sitting around."

"i'm not stupid, i knew that."

another burst of short lived laughter from you and pieck, porco rolling his eyes at the two of your antics. "well eren and jean are over there now."

you glanced over at the direction of pieck's gaze, spotting eren seated beside armin and annie, and a new face you didn't even see all night, historia talking to eren with a black haired girl next to her, arms crossed. jean stood on the other side of them, leaning on the counter seeming to be listening intently. something seemed off about the conversation but eren seemed to be nonchalant about it so you didn't think twice. "so annie was still at the bar? i guess hitch left her." you said mostly to yourself, recalling when you told armin where the stoic girl was earlier that evening.

"yeah," pieck still heard you. "look at annie and armin," she used her drink to gesture towards the two.

"cute, almost makes me want to get in a relationship, surrounded by all these lovebirds." you said jokingly, specifically aiming your sentence to pieck and porco next to you, and not so much annie and armin as you weren't even sure if they dated.

"i could pluck a couple candidates for you."

"who?"

"i don't think you'd like my answer."

you shook your head at pieck, only letting the comment linger on your mind for a bit before letting your eyes wander back to historia and eren. they seemed to be having a heated conversation from the distance you were at, historia's drink in hand as she spoke to eren, her hands flailing at the same time while eren drank his own, seemingly half-listening. "was historia always here?"

pieck looked ahead to the bar as well. "i'm assuming you mean the blondie from this afternoon? i remember her, but i don't recall seeing her until probably just a couple minutes ago, why? you're gonna go over and say hi?"

"nah, she's a sweetheart though; she'd be happy to see me regardless, but, i think she might be a little annoyed with me because of what happened between her and eren. if i pass her later then yeah."

historia frowned as both her and you, despite your distance watched eren turn around to armin and jean, saying something that made jean burst out laughing and armin and the raven haired girl next to historia's jaw drop. what jean said after was inaudible from where you sat, but you could just see the words "eren," formed on armin's lip. your eyes widened as when eren turned back around historia's hand flew forward, drink wrapped around her fingers letting the contents inside of the cup spill forward onto eren's shirt, the red shade of the liquid seeping into it.

you gasped and pieck did too, her moving her hair out of her face to make sure the events that were splayed out were really happening. "oh my gosh," you muttered, standing up and taking long strides over to the bar.

armin's hand wrapped around eren's wrist, tugging him back before he could lose his temper on the small girl in front of him. "eren, leave it!" you could hear armin say, worry in his tone as eren shook out of his grip. but before he could do anything else in response you were in front of him, your eyebrows furrowed and your hands placed on the front of eren's shirt, avoiding the wet spots as you pushed him backwards a little.

"eren, hey, eren, stop!" you raised your voice slightly, his eyes still trained on historia who you stepped in front of, her stepping back, with the other girl, who you could now tell was mina, but you could only remember her so vaguely, hearing about her from eren more than seeing her more often than not.

eren looked down at you, his expression softening only a tad bit when he saw your own angered one as you tried to calm him down. you twisted your neck back to look at historia with a disappointed look, her looking almost surprised to see you here as well, as if she genuinely didn't know you'd be here. "historia..." you sighed more so to yourself before looking at eren's shirt again.

"_____, i can take him to the bathroom to help him." armin proposed, coming up beside you and examining eren's shirt as well. luckily because of the dark color it only looked like a water stain, but you knew it was irritating eren nonetheless.

"it's fine, i'll take him, thank you arm—"

"no, let's go, get your stuff." eren interrupted you, turning towards the barstool he was sitting on previously to grab his phone. his tone was low and domineering, almost telling you that yes, you were leaving right now, not that you had any complaints; you were already getting tired, hence why you took a seat with pieck.

"um, i left my stuff in the car, and i have my phone." you felt your chest to make sure your device was still tucked away, and it was, eren grabbing your upper arm and for the thousandth time that day, tugging you away. you could only look back with a sorry gaze at armin, noticing jean's still shocked expression, and realization dawning on historia's own face. you would have to shoot pieck a text later that night as well, as you could no longer see her as eren dragged you out the club.

once you took step outside the cold breeze hit your arm, but one of your arm's were still held captive so you couldn't rub your limbs to try and soothe the aching cold, getting annoyed by the way eren was pulling you along with him. "eren, let go." you pulled your arm back, and easier than you thought, your arm slipped out of his grip as the two of you reached the car. this time he didn't open the car door for you, both of you getting into your designated sides simultaneously, eren starting his brother's car again.

"what happened?" you asked almost immediately, eyes still looking down to the splotch of alcohol on his black top. you knew it would turn into a stain without the proper care of the material.

eren basically ignored you, looking over to your side once before beginning to drive off letting silence fall over the two of you. you huffed and looked out the window, resting your head on your palm and just letting eren's temper wash away with the car ride. you'd coerce him to tell you when the two of you got back to carla's house.

                                            彡

eren unlocked the front door, letting you get inside first. all the lights were shut, his mom most likely sleeping, yet the two of you were still quiet.

eren almost immediately began stripping off his shirt, first starting by placing both of his keys on the counter, alongside his phone, while you placed your own belongings beside his. he took off his tee, pendant slapping against his chest once the shirt was off. you used your right foot to kick off your left heel and did the same with the reciprocating leg.

before he could toss his shirt onto the table chair you reached out, grabbing it and going to flip on the kitchen light, heading over to the sink. eren studied your movements slightly surprised by your immediate efforts to help him, which to him should be no shock; you were always willing to help eren, always one step ahead of him before he could make mistakes, always rushing after him before his mistakes as well.

he came over beside you as you studied the stain, your delicate hands stretching out the fabric to examine it further. "what was she drinking?"

eren looked up from his shirt to your face, you too concentrated on the shirt to notice. "how am i supposed to know?" you gave him a browbeaten stare, him shifting uncomfortably before speaking again. "i don't know... it was something red i think."

"i'm gonna hand wash it and put it in the dryer. next time you wash clothes you can wash it too." you murmured, turning on the sink water before drizzling dish soap onto the black material. eren watched you silently, almost in awe at your domestic movements, your hands moving faintly yet firmly when you scrubbed at his shirt. he decided to break the silence instead of continuing to watch you.

"... i was just talking to armin and jean, and then she came over with her friend."

you immediately scoffed, breathing air through your nose at his last words, not even looking back at eren. "her friend? you know her name eren, i know you do."

eren stared at his shoes, tapping his fingers against the counter he leaned against. "yeah, mina. well they came over, and she was just talking to me like normal—"

"eren." your tone was almost threatening— like a mothers warning. you were glad he finally felt the need to tell you about the events that your mind was pondering on, but the way he sounded like he was attempting to dumb down the story itched you wrong. eren could tell by the tone of your voice that you were slightly upset, and he decided not to push any further.

"well she started talking to me about everything, her and mina were like... interrogating me about the situation, how i... played them," the words felt almost foreign coming from eren's mouth. you could almost see him visibly cringing from the angle he was at beside you. "and then i said something that she took the wrong way, i said it to jean and armin, then she threw her drink at me." the more he talked the lower his voice got until it was merely above a whisper, almost as if the embarrassment was only just dawning on him.

you let the quiet simmer for a little longer, ringing out the fabric in your hand before rolling up the material and making your way to the laundry room, eren following behind like a lost puppy. you brushed your hand against the laundry room door, turning to eren for confirmation that it was the right room if you could remember, and he nodded his head. with a sigh you threw the garment into the dryer, setting it to dry for only twenty minutes then letting the dryer run.

eren once again let his eyes follow you as you stepped in front of him crossing your arms, your brows coming together creating a crease between them, and your eyes squinted at him. "so why'd you do it?"

no response, only emeralds darting around the room to avoid your own strong gaze. you weren't angry, no, as cliché as it is you were merely disappointed— maybe even irritated, and of course confused.

"hm? what'd you get out of hurting them?" you stepped closer, eren making no attempt to step back.

"... i dont know, i—"

"you don't know? you just doing this for fun? cause it's not fun for them, and it's not fun for me when random girls always come up to me, like historia; telling me about what you did." you pointed an accusing finger at his chest. "like, i just don't get it eren." your hand came up to your face as you pinched the bridge of your nose.

eren was almost at loss for words, only being able to listen to you speak, and only able to observe the array of motions that came and went on your face in a single minute, observe how you tapped your foot against the hardwood floor, or the way you tucked your lip between your teeth in frustration every time you took a pause in telling him off.

"eren... i'm not saying she was right for throwing that drink on you, because she's not, but you," another brief pause, and your eyes meeting eren’s, a sympathetic look on them. okay, yeah you weren't mad, you just wanted to know what was going on through eren's head. "you can't keep just doing them girls like that, thinking that nobody's gonna bite back."

"______, i'm sorry..." he didn't want you to be disappointed, he didn't want you to be upset with him. it was some kind of heavy guilt that turned his stomach. he took it upon himself to grab one of your hands, and surprisingly you didn't pull away, his fingers rubbing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe your nerves. "'m sorry,"

"eren, you're apologizing to the wrong person." eren genuinely didn't know what to say, he knew you weren't the person to apologize to but he wanted your forgiveness as well. you let go of his hand moving it to the key around his neck, fiddling with it between your fingers as a mere distraction. he watched your soft fingers move, and it gave him a sense of comfort and fidelity, a warmness in his chest.

"i know..." his tone was filled with culpability, and it made you feel bad despite the position he put your friend in.

"you know, your mom talked to me earlier." you unconsciously slid your hand up his chest to his shoulder. your touch, your touch was enticing to him whether you knew it or not. "she said she wanted me to help you out and help you be the best version of yourself as possible." your other hand went on your hip to steady yourself further, but eren pulled it away and brought it to his other shoulder, you giving them a squeeze that made his stomach flip. "so that's what i'm trying to do, because that's what she wants, and because i love you."

eren practically choked when the words left your lips. not that he's never heard it from you before, no, being his best friend for so long it was such a casual thing to say 'i love you', and it was actually repeated more often than not. but now, why did it feel any different now? "i love you too..." he said hesitantly, bringing his own hands to your forearms, massaging the skin much like he did your thigh the previous morning. "you're not mad right?"

"no, if you can do better for me i won't be." truth being, he'd do anything for you. you let your hands glide up until you were cupping his face, giving his cheek a playful pat to show you weren't mad at him, then coming back down to tug at his chain, like his mom did earlier. "c'mon, let's go get changed."

and it hit him— he was awestruck.

it all made sense, fleeting touches he would give you, the way he relished in your skin on his, wanting you to be in his presence— better yet in his arms. the way your own touch on his; like you putting his necklace on for him, or you fixing his hair, how he would look at you in awe as you did so, how it gave him a sense of calmness. you were always looking out for him, and he didn't realize he was looking out for you too, always a protective grip on you, pulling him along with you, watching you from afar when he had the chance, searching for you when you've been away for too long. and you, when you would check on him, fix his attire, fix his necklace, taking after what you've learned from his mom just showed the mutual bond the two of you had, but the longer the bond stayed cordial, the longer he longed for you more. so when your hand slipped from his necklace and you began to walk around him he couldn't help but whine your name lowly and tug you back towards him, abruptly spinning you back around and letting his hands hold your jaw as he pressed his lips against yours, not considering the impact of the action in that brief moment.

you were caught off guard, the feeling of his full lips on yours felt oddly good, but it wasn't right— no it wasn't right at all to you, but to eren it felt completely right, like you were made for him, his other hand pulling you closer by your waist, the silk material of your dress underneath his hand making him squeeze tighter as if his hand would slip away.

you tried pulling away, and eren could feel it, your reluctance and your hands trying to push him away, but just a little longer, a little more, a little bit more time for his lips to engulf yours, until you both had to pull back for air, your nails leaving crescent moons on his chest from your efforts to push him away from you. he heaved, a croak of your name coming out as you shook your head despite the feeling of the kiss you shared sending the butterflies in your stomach abroad. "eren, no... i can't, you‚"

"no," he was desperate, his voice having that same pleading tone from when he asked you to get a drink with him at the bar. "it's not like that, this is different!"

your eyebrows pointed upwards, something in you did want to believe him but you couldn't. but then again, what would make him want to do that? when did he ever start finding you appealing? was it the kiss just now that made you realize that this wasn't the eren you always tried to take care of? that this wasn't eren jaeger whos ears would get red when his mom would tug on them, or who convinced her to paint his walls an ugly green, or the eren that'd kick you out of his room? this was eren, who grew his hair out to his shoulders, who joined a sports team and gained abs that rippled under his shirt which you finally noticed, eren who would make small sexual innuendos that probably had more lying underneath it than you thought.

this was eren that kissed you, and you kind of wanted to kiss him back.

"i promise." his lips were flushed, much like his face, small wispy hairs from the bun that would never stay put for too long swimming around his face. his palm still lingered on your waist but his other hand was now gripping one of your wrists on his chest. he never knew how to keep his hands to his self, and that only increased now. you didn't even realize he was inching closer, practically begging for more contact. "my mom would kill me if i played you anyways."

and so you let his lips collide with yours again, your mouths moving in synchronization this time around. eren's hands fumbled for the laundry room light before he tapped your thigh signaling you to wrap your legs around his waist. you knew his intentions but you still obliged. he shut the door and you wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you to the kitchen light, doing the same as the previous room, him carrying you carefully in the dark, taking his time to get upstairs quietly with you in his arms until you both were in his room, him finally settling you down on the bed and turning on a dim lamp on his desk.

"shit," he mumbled watching you splay out in front of him, although your knees were touching as you laid back to hide yourself slightly while eren fumbled taking his shoes off. your dress was sliding up your thighs, and if you opened your legs you were sure eren would get a clear view of the cotton underwear you changed into that morning.

eren didn't want to be too hasty, he wanted to show you that this was gonna be about you and your pleasure, to show you that this wasn't another one of his flings and that you were important, you meant something to him but he just couldn't see it until now. so he towered over you, watching the way you bit your lip anxiously and it made his heart skip a beat, you were so cute, and he always knew so but the thought only audibly hit him now. he massaged your knees, one of his favorite soothing actions to do to you, until he slowly pulled them apart, feeling you tense up. "it's okay..."

so you moved along with him, and likewise, your dress slid up some more, eren pushing it up to your stomach, you lifting your hips to help him do so. he eyed you, making sure you were comfortable, and he couldn't help but lean down to kiss your lips once more, before pushing you further up the bed so he could lean over you. "you want this too, right?"

you nodded your head, letting out a shaky breath as his kisses trailed down your neck, eren using his arms to support himself as he leaned between your legs. you could feel the denim of his black jeans pressing up against you slightly and you clenched, your knees hitting eren's sides. "you gonna let me treat you right, make you feel good?" more kisses down your sternum, until they reached the cleavage of your breasts, eren looking up at you with those recognizable doe eyes, and you pulled his head back up, fingers brushing against his ears.

"yes, eren." his name, his name on your lips never sounded so nice.

eren turned his head sideways to kiss your palm before giving you a boyish smile then tugging at the straps of your dress. "want me to take this off?" he was so verbal, it made you feel so safe and secure. when you nodded your head he began to slowly pull the fabric off of you. he took his time, feeling every inch of your body, every curve beneath his hands, the softness of your flesh against his knuckles. he almost groaned out seeing your body almost bare in front of him. you were so pretty, it almost wasn't fair that it took him this much time to take action. "pretty." he spoke under his breath, but you heard it, and your hand slowly went to your mouth to hide your smile, your other one wrapping around your own waist to hide yourself, and eren caught on, moving your hands. "stop hiding, beautiful."

the compliments went right up your spine, your eyes fluttering as he skipped over your bra and let his kisses head down south, peppering your stomach in them. he let his fingers run up against your sides, eyes looking up to you for a second to make sure you were comfortable to where his hands and mouth were headed. eren's fingers dusted the waistband of your underwear, his teeth grazing the material as well before he pulled back, letting them snap against your skin, you hissing in response. "eren," you whined, feeling yourself grow even slicker from his onslaught.

"yes?" he said almost tauntingly. you could feel his hot breath over your lower abdomen, and you felt like you were being tickled. he decided to be a little slower, moving his hands to your thighs instead, rubbing at them, his fingers ghosting over your skin the closer he got to your heat, and when your mouth dropped open, the smallest moan came out of your mouth when he let his palm rest over you, he couldn't help but rut his length onto your thigh a little through his jeans.

when your legs spread more between him, he took it upon himself to go back down to the same position he was in, holding one of your legs apart by your knee while the other one attempted to pull your panties over your legs. eren was growing excited watching your hips lift up and your underwear fly across the room. his eyes were dark, hungry almost as he watched you try to close your legs again, but his hand was still holding them open as he stared at your glistening cunt. "damn," he breathed out shakily, jade eyes swapping between the view of your face staring at the ceiling in slight nervousness, and your pussy, sitting pretty in front of him, for him. "let me taste you."

you nodded your head almost too fast, and that urged eren on, him settling himself in between your legs. "you're so sexy," his thumb gave your clit a few test rubs watching your hips buck up slightly, and you could feel yourself pulse, aching for more contact, but eren was being painfully slow. he let his thumb drop down lower until it slide between your folds, gathering your slick on the digit, pride filling his body at how much coated his thumb. "you're so wet because of me." way to fill his ego. you rolled your eyes with a small chuckle that made him reciprocate, the childish smile returning on his face.

"stop..." you said, letting your hand fall to your stomach, the small moment of laughter making you a tad bit more comfortable. eren closed his eyes, pressing his tongue against your clit before flipping it and dragging it down to your entrance. before you could even buck your hips up his hand flew to your side, his fingers pressing into your skin, holding your hips in place, a whine leaving your lips that egged eren on. "fuck," the new sensation of his tongue on you, simply sitting on your hole had you wriggling underneath him. he opened his eyes to watch you, your head thrown back on your pillow, mouth agape your hand now kneading at your breast, bra pulled down around you waist, and eren couldn't help but smirk against your throbbing heat.

"you like that?" his lips moved against you and you visibly shuddered, causing eren to chuckle.

"yeah..."

eren pressed a kiss to your clit before finally letting his tongue slip into your hole, a small gasp eliciting from you as you felt yourself clench around the wet muscle. he audibly groaned, the way you tasted and felt around him making him tighten in his pants. he pushed his tongue in and out, relishing in each of your gasps and the moans you tried to hide. he pulled back for a brief moment, bringing his fingers up to spread your lips. "don't hold back, i wanna hear you." and he slid his tongue up your slit before sliding it back in, essentially tongue fucking you, your back arching as much as possible under his restraint.

"eren, fuck— more," you hissed. it felt almost teasing, you needed something bigger, something to fill you up and fuck you good, and the thought alone along with eren's tongue venturing inside of you made you even wetter, and eren could feel it, slurping at your juices. the vibrations made you yelp out, his grip on one side of your hips tightening while he readjusted his fingers in a v-shape to hold your lips apart.

eren gave you a small break, pulling back for a brief moment to let you calm down before gently sucking on your clit. he let his tongue sit on it then went back down, this time taking his index and sliding it into you, a drawled out moan leaving you. your eyes squeezed shut, and no— no, it still wasn't enough, but it felt so good.

eren smiled to himself, seeing you shaking in pleasure, knowing it was him doing so, and let his fingers do some work, kissing up your thighs then nibbling on the skin slightly, your other leg sliding up and down on the bed and your toes curling. he pecked kisses back down your thigh until his lips met your clit again, lapping at it lightly and letting the cold air hit it before pressing his open mouth against it and sucking, small hums of content leaving him.

"i can't," you could feel yourself throb as eren pumped his finger in and out of you, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside of you and you almost cried out, that familiar feeling of an overload of pleasure creeping up on you. "i'm gonna come," and god, did he want to feel you cream all on his mouth.

"gonna come for me?" eren added another finger, feeling you squeeze around him as he continued to thrust them into you, letting his lips come back to lick at your heat as he fingered you faster while his other hand trailed up and down your sides instead of holding them down. you let one of your hands come back down into eren's hair, finding a grip on the brown locks and pushing his head down further, eren humming in content, sucking harder for your pleasure.

"yes, eren, yes!" you blabbered, the heat in your lower abdomen twisting around as you grind against eren's face until your orgasm tumbled over you, your hips stuttering, back arching while eren slipped his fingers out, taking both of your thighs on either side of his head and helping you come down from your climax while he licked at you until you were back calm yet your breathing uneven.

eren pulled off of you with a pop, his eyes meeting yours, but you only looked for a split second before you let them go down to his lips, covered in your wetness, and he smiled, his tongue slipping over his top and bottom lip. "you taste good, that was good..." he climbed over top of you until his fingers were prodding at your lips, asking for entrance so he could have you taste yourself, and you complied, lips parting and his digits slipping in while your tongue swirled around them. he curved his fingers, pushing them further down your throat as far as possible before slipping them out and coming down to kiss you, the taste of you even more apparent as your mouths met. he slipped his tongue in, grabbing your jaw and kissing you fervently, tongues dancing together for a bit before he reluctantly pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours. "good job."

your hands made quick work of pulling off your bra completely despite the ache from keeping your legs apart while eren shifted backwards off the bed as you watched him unzip his jeans, pulling down his pants until he was left in grey boxers. he pulled those down too, his cock slapping against his lower abdomen without shame and you nearly drooled when he took it in his hand, rubbing up and down the length while coming back over to his bed. you grabbed eren's hand, trying to keep your eyes off of his length making him let out a low laugh. "you scared?" he joked as you brought him down next to you.

"shut up— no, i'm not." your hands moved to his chest pushing him down to his pillows but eren sat back up, placing his own hands over yours.

"woah, it's okay, you don't have to." he realized you wanted to suck him off, but he didn't want to make it about him tonight as to not give you any ideas that any of this was temporary. he wanted to take it easy and pleasure you like he just did, make you feel good, and make you cry out his name, not vice versa. "you lay down." eren flipped the two of you, until you were back underneath him, and he took it upon himself to rub your breast, letting his thumb and index twirl one of your nipples between his fingers. his mouth came in contact with your other boob, talented tongue going to work at your reciprocating nipple for a brief moment before pulling back. "i don't know if i have a condom."

you glance up at eren, a frown forming on your face. you knew he messed around a lot and that somewhat worried you. "you don't have condoms here or something?" your eyes darted around his room.

"it's my mom's house, no i don't have condoms." eren was growing impatient, precum visibly leaking out his tip so he took it upon himself to smooth it down his length while he thought. "i'm clean though, i swear." he added. "i haven't had sex in a couple weeks either." you gave eren a wary look. "i'm not lying."

with a roll of your eyes you nodded your head and shifted around, but eren stopped you halfway, hand pulling your hip back down to the bed. "nah, i want to see your face, gorgeous." just as fast as he slipped out of his alluring mood, he slipped back into it and your lip twitched as his hand ran down your side until it was back at your thigh, eren pulling your leg further from the other. he looked down to position himself in front of you, mouth in an 'o' shape at the sight in front of him. he was about to fuck you, and fuck you so good. "you ready?"

"mhm."

so eren slid himself inside of you, both of you groaning simultaneously until he was buried at the hilt— and this is what you longed for. you felt so full and it felt so nice, the way he stretched you out was indescribable and your mouth hung open, small gasps coming out as your hand gripped at eren's forearm near your head. "fuck, you okay?"

albeit your eyes being squeezed shut and eren feeling like he was splitting you open, you nodded your head hastily, nails digging more into his skin. it had been awhile since you had sex yourself, so the feeling almost felt like your first again. "yeah... you're just, so— big..." you managed to breathe out. you should've kept your mouth shut, you could practically see eren's ego inflate, his lip twitching trying to suppress his smile.

he brought his palm to your face, smoothing over the skin with his thumb. "yeah? well you're so tight," eren pushed a little further until his tip was brushing your cervix, then his body coming back a little bit until his head was a distance above your pussy, collecting spit in the front of his mouth before letting it slowly drop down onto your clit, rubbing it in to soothe you further as he pulled out a bit, tantalizingly slow. "i'll go slow at first."

eren pushed in and out slowly like he promised, but it didn't last for long, his pace quickening fast, but luckily he continued to rub you in circular motions to help ease the pain until it melted into pleasure. "can't believe you're letting me fuck this pretty pussy of yours." he groaned out, his hips rocking against yours.

the way you wrapped around him, squeezing him impossibly tight wasn't fair. you felt exactly how he thought you would, maybe even better, and every thrust of him inside you had him holding back more and more. "shit, _____." his voice came out in a whimper, and his elbows were brought down to the bed while your legs wrapped around his waist in an attempt to pull him closer.

for you, the sensation was incredible, the way he pulled out just before he was no longer inside of you, then pushed in until you could feel him against your cervix, every time he hit it pleasure shooting up inside of you. it had your skin feeling tingly and your hands flying to grip at the sheets, small wails of pure euphoria coming out of you and edging eren on. "eren," you cried as his teeth began to nibble on your neck, sucking on it as well in efforts to mark you. his necklace sat cold against your chest as he sucked on your neck and increased your pleasure.

"yeah, i love hearing my name from you like that, say it again." he almost demanded, pumping into you harder, your body rocking on top of the bed with every time eren slammed his hips into yours, your wetness collecting on his pelvis. "again," he popped off from your neck watching the skin slowly darken, and he knew there'd be a hickey soon enough.

"eren!" you whimpered, rolling your own hips down into his, eren supporting himself on his arms again, bringing one up to wrap around your neck, giving a test squeeze. "fuck..." you choked out as he tightened his grip, almost surprised at the fact that you weren't trying to push his hand away. his fingers tapped against your neck before he pressed harder, coming down to kiss you again, tongue licking at your bottom lip, your breathing shortening from the lack of oxygen coming in or out. he pulled at your lip before making every thrust of his powerful, pulling out slow then coming back in strong.

"so you like when i choke you like that?" he mumbled against your lips before pressing his against your jaw. "you're so dirty... never thought you'd be like that." and finally he let you take in air, palm moving from your neck to your breast, giving it a nice squeeze.

eren lift your hips up a little bit so he could find that spot inside of you— and when he finally hit it you all but screamed, his hand slapping over your mouth and eren's eyes widening. "shut the fuck up!" his tone serious, as you forgot that his mom was only rooms over. you gave him a sympathetic look in apologies as he slid his hand from your mouth.

"'m sorry, but you feel so good..." you pouted trying to kiss him up in excuse. it had to have worked the way eren leaned forward so he could brush against your sweet spot again, this time you gasping.

"yeah? i feel so good?" he repeated.

"yeah."

"'atta girl," you were consumed in ecstasy, the praise, the stimulation, the feeling of his pendant against your skin, everything was surrounding you and that familiar feeling of your orgasm approaching began climbing again, you just needed a little more. "taking this dick like that— and liking it too." eren unwrapped your legs from his waist, his pace speeding up again. "i bet you want me to fuck you like this more often."

you groaned, your hand snaking down to rub at your clit again, and only after a couple rubs were you seeing stars, your back arching again, every nerve in your body being pinched as you came all over eren. a cry of his name came out over and over again and your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

he didn't stop, no, he was close himself, and the way you were pulsing around him as if you were trying to milk him was helping him to his end. your body went almost limp as you let eren finish. "fuck, fuck, i'm almost there too," he bucked his hips into you a few more times before pulling out and letting his hand finish him off, rubbing himself profusely until spurts of white came out flying onto your chest and stomach. "shit." he panted, and you were too, your breathing unstable, chest rising up and down after your orgasm. "shit."

eren rolled over until he was laid down beside you, your eyes struggling to stay open. eren let his rake over you, from the mark on your neck, to his cum splattered on your midsection, to the small sheen of sweat that covered yours and his body, causing some of his flyaways to stick to his forehead. he sighed in content before getting up to go grab a rag to clean you up.

"don't go to sleep yet." he said as he wiped and cleaned you up with a damp rag, cleaning himself off as well.

"why?" you mumbled with your eyes closed as you turned around so your face smushed against eren's pillow.

eren grabbed his boxers slipping them back on and contemplated handing you your underwear as well or letting you stay comfortable. seeing you wake up bare would cause a problem for him that he didn't want to deal with so he grabbed your underwear and helped slipped them on you, then rummaging through his bag for one of his shirts. "come on, let me put this on you." you reluctantly obliged, picking yourself up from his pillow and lifting your arms so he could slip his shirt over your head before climbing into his bed next to you, pulling you flush against him.

"you okay... was that okay?" there he went, checking up on you.

"yeah, you okay?" and there you went, doing the same.

"yeah... that was real good," eren kissed the top of your head. "i meant it when i said this is different." he rubbed your back, pulling you even closer, his legs tangling with yours as the two of you cuddled under the covers. it didn't feel as wrong to you anymore. a little weird? yes, but his words were reassuring. "i want something with you... i do. you do so much for me, we're always together, my mom loves you— i love you... i don't know, i just wanna be with you."

your heart was pounding in your chest, even through your tiredness. "can you show me you can be better first? work for me?" you didn't want to just hand yourself to eren that easy. "i want you to show me how much you love and care for me. get yourself together, settle down, then i guess you can settle down with me later."

"later?" it pang eren's heart a bit that he wouldn't be able to call you his just yet, but he was determined to do what it would take to get you.

"later."

                                           彡

"_____, wake up, my mom made breakfast." your eyes opened slowly at the sound of eren's voice. you turned over to see him dressed, sweatpants and a shirt on his body, hair slightly damp from what appeared to be a recent shower. "get ready, i'll wait."

with hesitance, you got up and got yourself cleaned up and ready. you threw on some leggings and a sweatshirt as you didn't recall any plans with eren nor his mom that evening, and with that you and eren head downstairs, eren's hand holding yours as he pulled you down, but he didn't drop contact with you when the two of you got into the kitchen. instead of holding your hand, he hopped up on the kitchen counter pulling you between his legs where you stood.

"good morning, when did you two come home last night?" carla asked from her position at the stove, flipping a pancake before grabbing three plates from the cabinet next to her and then turning around to face the two of you. neither you or eren missed the suspicious glance she gave you when she saw your stances, holding back her question so you could answer hers.

"probably around twelve... we left early." you said.

"i thought so, i heard something last night but i remembered it was probably just the two of you so i went back to sleep." carla slipped the last pancake onto the stack then handed eren the three plates to place on the kitchen table. "am i missing something?" she said giving you two a one over as she gave him the plates.

"no. there's three people and three plates." eren said as he placed them onto the table, and you rolled your eyes at his stupidity.

"no, like... you guys seem comfortable today." realization hit him as he turned around to his mom trying to hide his stupid grin, which told you to not let him speak.

"uh, me and eren talked yesterday." carla raised an eyebrow at you as she walked past you to put the stack of pancakes on the table, you following behind her to take a seat.

"about?"

eren glanced at you then to his mom as she brought over a container of syrup and some forks and knives. "i'm trying to make _____ my girlfriend." he said blatanly, watching his mom freeze up as she put a fork and knife beside your plate.

"really?"

"yeah... he is." you couldn't decipher her reaction, until a small smile appeared on her face as she pat your shoulder and took a seat with you and eren.

"i'm glad." she hummed. "it took you guys long enough... but why is he trying?"

you avoided carla's eyes, concentrating on pulling a pancake to your plate as eren seemed nonchalant about the whole ordeal. it was his mom, so of course he'd be less nervous about it than you.

"i told him i wanted him to get some things together first."

carla nodded in understanding as she began cutting her pancakes. "i see. that's good, just let me know if anything okay?"

"okay." you and eren said the same time causing carla to giggle.

"i'm talking to _____ not you." her tone had a hint of excitement to it.

she was happy, and something inside you was too.

you weren't sure if eren getting a drink spilled on him was karma or luck.

[theredsuzuran]

Kᴏᴋᴜsʜɪʙᴏᴜ, ᴅᴏᴜᴍᴀ x ғᴇᴍ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ [ NSFW ❣︎ ]

ᵗʰⁱˢ ⁱˢ ᵐʸ ᶠⁱʳˢᵗ ᵗⁱᵐᵉ ʷʳⁱᵗⁱⁿᵍ ˢᵐᵘᵗ ˢᵒ ᵃᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ ʸᵃʸ¡

Kokushibou~

Tags : non-con, dom-sub, hate sex, fingering, creampie, belly bulge.

"I believe you want to decapitate my head, no?"

The demon spoke calmly while teasing that swollen clit of yours on the other hand his long wide digits pumped in and out of your tight wet core vigorously. Ending up like this after dedicating your life to the crops is rather humiliating but instead of cowering with shame and disgust, you find yourself enjoying every thrust that penetrated deep inside the clenched hole of yours, prevailing a pure state of ecstacy.

"Speak of yourself filthy demon" you managed to speak between low grunts by resuming the lweds noises from escaping your soft trembling lips. A series of swift slaps landed onto your bare tits molding the flesh roughly in the process accompanied with pinches in the hypersensitive bud erected high due to its intensity. Your knees shuddering with each blow as kokushibo slaps harder simultaneously in your hip and breast without mercy.

How did you two end up like, this night was supposed to predict the future of humanity, either one of your demise, yet there you were being fucked by your sworn enemy. Hate was an understatement to define the feelings you store for him, lothe was the correct word. You loathed him for long as you can remember starting from the way he overpowers you to the way you whimper helplessly beneath his touch. All the insults he throws at you with his gaze locked directly over your frail quivering frame, caressing your forbidden places, fluids overflow shamelessly from your heated cunt.

Hovering on top of your small delicate body, the tall demon bends you aggressively against the tree stem. Fearing what might happen next, you tearfully pleaded but was it too late for he gropes your hips with such force rubbing his cock in between them.

"Weak" is all that come out from the silence, that one thing you never wanted to hear especially from him, it was unacceptable how he honorably stood as if he was mocking at your pathetic state while you lower you head down due to mind numbing pleasure, unable to put up with this degradation you decided to work on your impulses, applying all your remaining force you lifted your head only to be pressed down allowing him to hold a fistful of your hair roughly. 

"You think you can defeat an upper rank?" he yanked your hair roughly causing you to flinch with pain, and before you knew his member slide inside your drenched opening, you clinged onto his toned chest scratching his shoulders. He began pounding you with inhuman speed, his other hand spreading your leg wide as he mercilessly pumped his shaft upto your cervix creating concussions all over your body, belly bulging out due to his length. The forest filled with lwed moans, pants and grunts accompanied with sloppy noises of bare skin clapping against one another as the two of you continue to bang.

"Look at me" kokushibo ordered with his low voice, as an act of rebellion you refuse to listen to him gritting your teeth in protest. Suddenly he grabbed your face roughly to stare at you with his menacing eyes, your faces inches apart ready to mingle with burning passion but now would he let your lips connect? Demons are not capable of experiencing emotions anymore for they have abandoned their humanity long ago and before you stood one of the most ruthless, cruel demon of all time dominating your fragile little body like a play thing. Saliva drooling off your mouth while your tounge sticking out as he increases his pace gradually, upon witnessing the pathetic sight of yours, he chockes you earning moans of his name from your lips. There was nothing more you wanted than his cock. He shoots it warming up your walls while your juices coating his member reaching your respective orgasm, he releases you from his grip making you fall onto the ground, his hot seeds oozing out off your pussy. Just as you thought your miseries have ended and your life as well he pulled you up the ground earning a loud shriek in response, his usual calm face curving slightly into a sinister expression.

"I know exactly how to break you, (y/n)"

Douma~

Tags : mastrabation, degrading, oral sex, cock worship.

You have always loved the eccentric cult leader from afar which begun from exchanging a glance, you were just an insignificant maid like some other women in his prismatic pair of eyes but devoting your life and soul for his upmost affection became your priority. Everybody desires that whole heartedly you never consider yourself as an exception but you dared intoxicating your thoughts spending tedious nights imagining yourself indulged in sinful pleasure.

Just like any normal day, you were assigned to do chores around the cult including tending your master's room. His scent lingered as you prepared the cushions he would he sitting later "douma s-sama" your lips parted to chante his name, fingers automatically rubbing over the fabric of your heated spot forming inbetween shaking thighs, trembling, as all kind of dirty thoughts engulf your mind Sitting onto the bed you spread them, so blissfully unaware that the one watches intently.

"Look who we have here, (y/n)~ touching herself while calling her master's name" you jolted upwards in utter shock soon turning into shame.

"Don't mind me, continue what you were doing dove" the man beamed with excitement as his lustful gaze roamed upside down.

"I-" you hesitantly replied.

"I won't ask you twice, if you don't want me to force you, do what I say you useless slut" his tone changed in a matter of second the carefree smile he puts up usually is replaced to a completely unemotional one scaring you for you followed his orders fearfully by rubbing your clit infront of him avoiding eye contact. He locked his eyes directly on that dripping entrance. Your wildest fantasies have come to reality.

"Come here" which you immediately obliged to, he motioned to the tent forming in his pants. "Suck" you touched the length with your hand carefully unzipping the fabric, his scent filled your nostrils captivating you to take that inside your warm mouth and you did, swirling your tongue around it kissing and sucking it gradually making the demon groan in satisfaction. You bobbed your head slowly adjusting to his big size and start sucking it upside down when suddenly you were bend down with his nose poking at your wet core, hot breath tickling onto your pussy.

"I thought it would be rude of me to enjoy on my own" he explained his expression just the same as usual as if nothing like that happened before. He stretch his tongue out to have a good taste of your wet little slit. "Oh, did I allow you to stop now, dove?" Then he began assaulting that area vigorously with his long wide tongue making it hard for you to clinge onto his cock. You scream with pure ecstasy while he continue licking and teasing your vulva occasionally sucking on it, each time harder than before. You manage to suck his cock trying to match with his inhuman speed, then he suddenly pull out a string of saliva mixed with your fluids connecting his tongue.

"You really like it no? You have to beg for it if you do" a devilish smirk formed on his features. "I do" you replied trying to clasp the area he assaulted minutes before. "No, be specific, say you are horny little slut who wants to be touched" douma explained his smile never fading away. "Please.." tears forming your eyes, who knew he'd be so sadistic but you can't deny you loved every inch of it however he pocked onto your sensitive erected clit with his sharp nails just enough to not scratch it. "You won't? Too bad" he rubbed it slightly driving you crazy.

"I- want I-it"

"Mm? You want what dove?"

"I want you to touch me master for I am a horny little slut who needs your attention.. please master" you mwealed unable to take his teasing anymore, he bit your clit harshly making you squirm in pain, your walls tightened releasing all the pent up frustration you have stored over his face, you collapsed your eyes rolled back, tongue sticking out.

"That's it?" Douma pouted.

"But don't worry you have to yet make me cum, this day's gonna be so long (y/n)"

[babybatscreationsv2]

Chikan

Marvel | Starker + Peter/OCs

The first time Peter gets groped on a crowded subway, it was completely unexpected. All the other times... well, let's just say he enjoys teasing old business men. The only thing that could make it better is if Tony Stark would notice. 

Rating: Explicit

Warnings under the cut

Warnings: initial romnoncon, old man kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness

The first time wasn't his fault. It was a hundred damn degrees in New York and the only way to survive was to dress light and stay out of the sun. Which meant wearing a small pair of shorts and a thin t-shirt. He hadn't thought anything of it. After all, he'd never been sexually harassed before. It wasn't something he had ever thought to avoid.

So, crammed into a crowded morning train, Peter thought of his outfit other than that it was saving at least his legs from getting sweaty. His shirt was starting to cling to him. Someone brushed against his ass and there was no room in front of him to move without cramming his groin against the woman in front of him, therefore there was no where at all to move. He assumed it was an accident. Then it happened again. Just a light little touch. Then a firmer, more deliberate one.

Peter froze, mortified. The hand went away and he turned around to look. Behind him were several older business men, not one of them was younger than fifty. None of them looked at him and he had no way of knowing who it was. So he turned back around and tried to forget it ever happened. Until it happened again.

A rough hand palmed his ass, rubbing and squeezing. Fingers traced the bottom of his ass cheeks where they must have been sticking out of his shorts. The man behind him grabbed the waistband of his shorts and pulled him up. The material pulled up into his ass crack and he knew his full ass was out. His face heated, burning red. He didn't know why he didn't stop it. It would have been easy to whip around while that hand was still on his ass and see who it was and tell them off. But he liked it.

They rubbed and palmed and groped his ass. All the while Peter's mouth watered and his dick started to harden. A finger teased between his legs, touching him through the fabric. It felt unbelievably good.

He shifted, spreading his legs a bit. The man grew bolder, grabbing his crotch with his full hand, rubbing and squeezing him there too. Peter's legs shook. Then the train started to slow and the hand withdrew. Peter wanted to right his shorts, but he was so embarrassed that he couldn't even move. Not until the crowd began to push through the doors.

The second time it happened was entirely on purpose. Peter even went out and bought shorts in a thinner material so he could feel it better and he wore nothing underneath. He was nervous, but he hopped on the same morning train in the same car. He stood right in the middle holding on the strap above his head. It wasn't quite full yet so he hoped his groper would take the bait.

As people filled in, Peter didn't see any of the men from before. His heart sank with disappointment, but as the subway began to move, someone brushed his ass. He froze again. Then he relaxed. He tried to hide his smile. Someone else was interested.

He didn't think they were going to try again, but eventually they did, slowly growing bolder with each touch until they were palming his ass. Peter licked his licks. Fuck, he was addicted. They pulled their hand away and Peter risked looking behind them. They were all older, graying, business men, but different men than the last time. Some part of him wanted to turn around and beg to suck their cocks, but it scared to even think he could be that slutty.

He thought he had spooked the guy, but the hand came back, fully palming his ass. Peter wished he had something to rub his cock against. He was way harder than last time. Maybe because he could really feel the heat of that hand through the thin material.

A finger slid down his crack, rubbing when it found his hole. Peter moaned, biting the inside of his cheek in panic. He got a quick glance from the woman beside him, but she didn't bother to investigate.

When he rocked his hips against the finger, the man behind him must have realized that Peter was not an unwilling participant. He pressed closer to Peter's back until he could feel the heat of his hand. The smell of Barbasol filled his nose. He was gonna have to buy a can and start jerking off with the stuff.

The finger pushed, the tip of it slipped inside him. Peter's eyes went wide. He clamped a hand over his dick trying not to cum. He felt a breathy little laugh against his ear.

The hand withdrew and Peter let out a breath. He loved being touched, but he really didn't want to cum in his shorts. Yet, when the old man touched him again, he just spread his legs. He pulled Peter's shorts to one side and pushed his finger all the way in. It was slick, probably with spit, and it felt so fucking good. The finger pumped in and out. Then another pushed in.

Peter looked around him at all of the half-awake faces. No one knew that he was standing there, getting fingered, while they all dreamed of their morning coffees.

He felt the stubbly brush of a beard and chapped lips kissed the back of his neck. Peter bit down on the side of his hand, wishing he could scream, and he came in his shorts. The material was so thin that it leaked through, making a nasty stain. The man gave him another kiss, then left him alone. Peter covered the mess with his hand, face burning with embarrassment as he ran to the nearest shop to buy himself some new pants.

It became a regular thing. Peter started packing a change of clothes in a little drawstring bad. He kept wearing the tiny, thin, shorts and a thin t-shirt, every time he got on the subway. Hands touched and groped, usually staying on the out side of his shorts. Sometimes they didn't though and those were his favorite times.

This guy was feeling him up good, squeezing his ass cheeks to hard it might bruise. Then his hands went around to his front to palm his cock. Peter spread his legs and tried not to die on the spot because he was in fucking heaven. Then a second hand appeared, risky on a train. It slid up his abdomen and found his chest. Through his shirt then man rubbed his nipples. Peter could feel his hot, pervy, breath on his neck. He pressed his ass back, biting his lip when he felt his hard cock. He gave as good as he got, rubbing his ass against the man while he rubbed his cock and his nipples. When he pinched then hard, Peter thought he might faint. This couldn't be happening because it felt so fucking good.

Then the old man took the hand off his cock. Peter was disappointed for a moment only to stand shocked as he felt what was definitely a dick, rubbing against his ass. He rubbed it all over Peter's shorts, then slipped it between his legs, rubbing against his hole and his balls. Peter rocked his hips. He wanted him to cum on his thighs so bad. He squeezed them together, giving him something to fuck.

One hand held his hip while the other kept playing with his nipples. The old man slowly fucked his thighs. Peter felt him shake as he came, splattering mess all over his skin. He didn't play with his cock any more after that, just his nipples, leaving him hard and desperate when they left the train. Peter ran to the bathroom and jerked off in the stall using the stranger's cum for lube.

He had developed such a Pavlovian response to gray haired old men that even working in the lab was driving him insane. He's catch the subway, get so deliciously groped, change his clothes, and then turn up at SI only to rinse and repeat as he saw Tony.

If the man suspected anything, he said nothing, but he had to be aware of Peter's permanently red cheeks and how some days he came in with his nipples all hard under his shirt. There was one man who liked to play with them until they were raw and they ended up hard and sore all day. One time he forgot to change his shorts and he ended up sitting cum all day. He wondered if Tony could smell it.

He was always day dreaming about him. What Tony was one of the old men? What if he caught the subway one say and slipped in behind Peter and couldn't keep his hands to himself? That would be incredible. There was no way, though. Tony wasn't a pervert and he understood concepts like consent and personal boundaries. The problem was that Peter desperately wanted him to violate him.

Horny brains do horny things, though. Which meant that Peter was finding it increasingly difficult to remain professional. Especially on the days when he didn't cum. He had gone from gushing compliments to outright flirting. Flirting which was taking a very obvious and pointed turn.

"Have I mentioned that I love your hair?" Peter said one day.

Tony ran a hand through it. "It's getting pretty gray, huh? Bout time I had it dyed."

"No, I mean it. I think it's sexy."

"Sexy?"

"Yeah. You're kind of a silver fox."

"We'll I wasn't named Sexiest Man of the Year seven times for nothing." Tony winked at him.

Sometimes Peter caught himself staring. Especially when Tony got hands on, working in a tank-top with bend metal into shape. When Tony called him out, he panicked.

"Take a picture, kid," he teased.

"Uh, sorry. It's just uh..." he swallowed. "Your arms- I mean I- you're really strong Mr. Stark."

"All hard work, baby." He grinned.

Peter turned away and made himself look at something else. He couldn't be that oblivious could he? Not that Peter wanted Tony to know that he was hot for him. It would make things awkward.

Then came the day that Peter forgot to change his shorts when he really, really, needed to. Not only had he cum so hard that it had leaked through and there was cum very visible on the fabric, but there was a hand print on his ass from a guy smacking him as hard he could. A couple of people turned around at that one, but Peter had gotten good at hiding his reactions and no one said anything.

Tony looked him over, hands tucked in his pockets. Peter held eye contact only due to becoming a deer in the head lights and feeling physically unable to move as he realized why Tony was looking at him like that.

"What's up, Pete?" Tony popped his lips. Was he angry? He looked kind of angry.

"I uh... what's up with what, Mr. Stark?"

The look he got at that was even worse. "You keep coming in here, looking like sex, stinking like it too, and it's fine. I get it. Your in your twenties. You're young and horny and that's great, but we need to set a boundary here because you're making me insane."

Peter stared. "I'm making you insane?"

"Yeah. I don't know what orgy your going to that happens at six am every morning, but I do recommend reigning it in."

"Uh..."

"I was a party boy so I have no right to nag, but at least tell me you're getting tested."

The look he was getting was such an odd mixture of pain and concern that Peter couldn't help it when he blurted out, "I've been letting old men touch me on the subway-"

Tony blinked. Rapidly. "You... I'm sorry, you're doing what?"

"It wasn't my fault the first time," he babbled, trying to explain. "It was just really hot out and I was wearing short shorts and this guy started feeling me up, but I really liked it so I bought even shorter thinner shorts and now every morning a different guy touches me and sometimes I cum in my shorts and I make a mess and I usually change before I come inside- I'm so sorry, Mr. Stark."

There was silence for a moment. "Oh. Alright. That sounds-"

Peter's eyes stung with tears, but he kept rambling. "Bad. I know. Someone assaulted me on a train and I liked it because I'm sick and I'm horny for old men and I think I'm gonna throw up now."

He bolted, running for the bathroom. When he got there he heaved, but nothing came up. He sat on the floor, crying his eyes out. Obviously Mr. Stark would think he was gross or insane. Obviously that was the stupidest thing he had ever done and he could never take the subway again.

The bathroom door pushed slowly open. "Pete? You okay?"

Peter sniffled. "I'm fine. You don't have to come in here."

"Yeah, I do." Tony walked in and crouched beside him. He waited until Peter peeked at him from behind his knees. "There's nothing wrong with you. Yeah, its not good that people are touching you without asking first, but there's nothing wrong with you for liking it."

"Really?"

"Really. Come on. Let me make you a drink."

"It's like seven am."

"Sometimes you gotta day drink, kid."

They sat together while Peter sipped something strong and Tony had a coffee. They didn't say much or really anything. Once Peter was calm, it was like the whole thing had never happened. He went and changed his clothes and they got to work same as always.

Then the next morning, Peter got on the train. The first thing he noticed was a familiar cologne. The scent had his toes curling already. It must have been one of his regulars behind him. He closed his eyes, already excited as a hand palmed his ass. They felt him up good, with greedy handfuls, like they owned his ass. Peter pushed back for more. The hand slid down, feeling his thighs, then up to his chest to tease his nipples. A beard scraped his neck.

"Is this what you like?" Tony whispered in his ear. Peter froze. What was Tony doing here? Why was he touching him? Was he making fun of him?

"Don't worry, baby boy. I get it now. This is why you've been flirting. You wanted me to be the one touching you, hm? Is that it?"

Peter nodded.

"Dirty boy. I'm old enough to be your father."

Peter shivered. He looked around, but no one seemed to be listening.

Mr. Stark didn't have the same reservations the others did. He grabbed Peter's arm and forced the crowd to move aside so they could stand by the door. Peter faced out toward the full train while Tony was behind him. His hands rubbed his cock and palmed his ass. Peter's legs shook and he pressed kisses to his neck. He gasped as Tony's cock slipped between his legs.

"You feel that, baby? That's what you did to me. With your tiny little shorts." He grabbed the back of them and pulled them up so his ass was out and the material was tight against his cock.

"Your old men every put it inside you?"

Peter shook his head. "Well I'm going to." He whimpered.

"You want that don't you?"

Peter nodded. He squeaked, biting down on his lip when Tony pinched his nipple. "You gotta promise me something."

Peter nodded again. He'd do anything for Mr. Stark already, but now he was offering his cock for it. Nothing was off limits.

"No more strange old men. You want an old man to touch you then you call me, got it?"

Peter nodded his head. "Tell me, baby."

"Yes, sir," he whispered.

"Good boy."

His cock was slick with lube when it pressed against his hole. Peter pushed up on his toes and Tony pulled him back on it. It felt so big, forcing its way inside. Peter trembled, barely standing on his own. He couldn't help it when his body started to move, rolling his hips to fuck himself deeper.

"That's it, baby, good boy," Mr. Stark purred. "I'm gonna fill your little hole and you're not gonna change your shorts. Do you hear me?"

Peter nodded. "Yes, sir."

"That's right. Your gonna let my cum drip out all over you. Let it dry on your skin. Your gonna be my nasty little cum dumpster today. You deserve it for not coming to me first. You let those other men touch you. But you're all mine now right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy. Keep grinding on my dick. Make yourself cum in your little shorts like a dirty little boy."

Peter gripped the bar in front of him. He closed his eyes and hoped no one was looking at him. Tony fucked him slowly, barely moving, but it was enough. Getting fucked by an old man on the subway, even if that old man was someone he knew, was way too fucking hot. Tony's hand slipped down over the front of his shorts and Peter's eyes went wide. His hands clasped over his mouth. He groaned low in his throat trying to hold it in. The guy in front of his gave him an odd look, but decided to mind his own business.

"Good boy," Tony purred. Peter shivered all the way down to his toes. "Squeeze my cock, baby. Milk it."

Peter chewed his lip and his did his best to obey. Tony's stubble burned his skin as he ran his lips along the side of his neck. Didn't make a sound, but he gripped Peter tight as he came. Peter felt wet inside as he pulled out. They fixed their clothes and stood waiting for the train to stop.

The next day, there was a car out front of his apartment. No more subway. Just Tony, feeling him up and making him cum in his pants as they rolled through the busy morning traffic.

[sleepysnk]

OKAY I GOT INSPIRED FROM AN ASK TO MAKE SOME PORCO SMUT. I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY THIS SWEET BOY 🥺✨.

Yearning

Pairings: Porco Galliard x Fem!Reader

Warnings: spoilers to season 4, NSFW

The evening sun shined through the curtains as the day was slowly coming to an end. The war against the mid-east alliance was finally over and the warriors were exhausted. The war had been going on for years and the military was satisfied with the outcome.

(Y/N) and Porco hadn't been around each other in human form for months. No touch, no kissing, etc. The two had been needy for each other for so long and as soon as the war was over, (Y/N) went to go seek out her boyfriend.

Here she was, laying in her bed playing with her fingers. It felt nice to finally have some relaxation, her body was tired from the endless fighting she had to go through. The past few days were filled with resting and lots of naps, even during the meetings she took the opportunity to shut her eyes for a few moments.

A knock came from behind the door. Sitting up she stretched a bit and headed towards the door.

She opened it to see Porco standing there. A smile grew onto her face as she was finally able to see him up close again.

"Hey.. are you busy?" Porco asked, nodding his head.

She laughed a bit. "No actually, I was gonna come find you but come on in. I wanted to see you," she replied and moved out of the way so he could enter.

Porco stepped into her room. "Let me guess.. you just woke up from another nap?" he asked, chuckling a bit.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes playfully. "Maybe..." she mumbled.

She walked towards the window and stared at the sun which was setting in the distance, the sky was painted with different purples and oranges. She smiled as she felt Porco's arms snake around her waist, bringing her close to his body.

He lied his chin on her head, leaving a small kiss. She put her hands onto his arm, running her fingers along the veins.

"I've missed you.." Porco said in a hushed voice.

She smiled. "I've missed you too Porco," she replied, turning towards him.

He smiled as he saw her face. "I missed your pretty face.. God, it's been so long since we've been this close." he said slightly squeezing her cheeks with his hands.

She giggled a bit. "Jeez what's up with you and my cheeks Pock?" she asked, rubbing them a bit.

"That's not my name (Y/N).. when are you gonna give that a rest?" Porco asked, rolling his yellow eyes.

A laugh escaped her lips. "Oh what name? Pock? I don't know a Porco," she said and shrugged her shoulders.

A smirk grew onto his lips as he put his arms around her waist, bringing her hips closer to his.

"Pock?" she asked, looking up into his eyes.

Suddenly she felt his fingers beginning to tickle and poke at her sides, laughter erupted from her mouth as his fingers tickled her sides.

"Porco stop!" (Y/N) yelled as she laughed, a few tears coming to her eyes.

He chuckled and brought her towards her bed, she climbed onto his lap. His hands rested on her hips, lightly squeezing.

"You're so beautiful," Porco said, cupping her cheek and pressing kisses onto her cheeks.

She giggled a bit, putting her arms around his neck. "You're cute though," she replied, kissing his nose.

Porco buried his face into her neck, his breath fanned over her neck causing the hairs to stand up. He began to kiss at her neck, his teeth grazed against her skin making her shiver. He slightly sucked on her sweet spot, earning a quiet moan from her throat.

Porco smirked against her skin. "You like that baby?" he asked, looking up at her.

She nodded a bit. "Yes.." she replied letting out a shaky breath.

He brought her hips closer to his, she felt his print through his pants. Porco pressed his lips onto hers and squeezed her hips with his large hands, the kiss was rough and it made the heat between her legs feel like a fire.

She grinded her hips against his cock, a small groan came from his throat. "Fuck.. don't do that now baby," he said and nipped at her neck again.

She smirked and buried her hands into his hair, lightly tugging at his brown locks.

"Lay down," he said and lightly tapped her butt for her to move.

(Y/N) stood up and lied down on her bed, she watched as Porco climbed on top of her. He hovered over he form and began to kiss her again, his hands finding their way down to her underwear.

A small moan escaped her lips as she felt his fingers brush over her clit. He smirked as his fingers touched the wet spot that formed in her underwear.

"You're so wet... you really missed me huh baby?" he whispered lowly in her ear. "Don't worry... I'll make sure you feel really good," he added, kissing her again.

She nodded. "P-Porco.. I need you," she said and moved her hips upwards towards his own body.

A chuckle came from his throat. "I'm here baby.. I'll tend to your needs," he replied and began to kiss down her neck towards her chest.

She felt shivers go down her spine as he kissed down her body, they trailed down towards her belly and he stopped at her navel. His fingers hooked around the hem of her shorts, pulling them down along with her underwear.

Goosebumps littered her skin as the cooler air was exposed to her wet cunt.

Porco's eyes lit up as he stared at her wet pussy. "I'm gonna devour the fuck out of your pussy baby. I hope you're ready," he said and looked up at her.

She pressed her thighs together. "Please Porco.." she cried, opening her legs a bit so he could get a better view.

He smirked and ran his tongue along her folds, a moan escaped her lips as she felt his hot muscle connected with her bundle of nerves.

Porco hooked his arms around her thighs, pressing his fingers into the soft flesh as his tongue continued to swipe along her clit. He sucked on her sensitive bead, sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

"Porco! Fuck! Just like that.." she moaned, digging her fingers into his hair.

"I missed the way your pussy tasted.." he said as he pushed a finger into her wet core.

She threw her head back as Porco began to slowly pump a finger into her, she felt his finger curling to hit that one spot inside of her. Her body jolted as he added another finger, the pleasure becoming almost unbearable.

Porco leaned up as he placed a kiss on her lips. "Cum on my fingers baby.. I wanna taste it," he said, quickening his pace.

Her moans and cries got louder as her orgasm approached, feeling the knot in her stomach forming. She gripped at the sheets as she felt her orgasm take over, small squelching noises were heard as Porco kept pumping into her.

He removed his fingers and stared at the arousal which coated them. "Good girl," he said and sucked on his fingers.

She lied there trying to catch her breath as Porco began to undress himself. His belt buckle hit the floor as he tossed his shirt off along with his pants.

(Y/N) watched as his boxers dropped to the floor, revealing his hard cock. The tip was coated with pre-cum, which he swiped off with his thumb. He lied down on the bed next to her and motioned for her to get on top.

"I can't wait to fuck you right now... you don't know how long I've been waiting," Porco said and grabbed her hips.

She looked down at his lust filled eyes. "Then fuck me Porco.." she said as a smirk grew onto her face.

He ran his tip along her folds before thrusting into her. He groaned loudly feeling her walls clenching around him, she felt so good around his cock. He missed the way her pussy felt.

(Y/N) cried out in ecstasy as Porco began to thrust into her at a fast pace. "Oh fuck Porco! Right there baby!" she cried as she felt his cock hitting against her g-spot.

Porco gripped her hips and began to bounce her on his cock. His nails dug into her hips leaving small marks, he clenched his teeth as her pussy hugged his cock.

"Fuuckk.. just like that, bounce on my fucking cock baby." he groaned.

She rolled her hips against his dick, she ran her finger down to her chest and pinched her nipples.

A sudden smack came from her ass as she continued to move against him, Porco used his hands to knead her ass. Red handprint marks were left on her butt from his spanking.

"Come here.." Porco said, his voice raspy.

She leaned down towards his face. Porco pressed his lips onto hers, engulfing her into a rough kiss. He put his arms around her waist and thrusted into her, his hands squeezing at the flesh of her hips.

He began to bite at her neck, leaving marks on her skin. Moans escaped her lips as Porco grazed his teeth along her neck.

The band in her stomach was tightening as she felt her orgasm approaching with each thrust, her eyes seeing stars as he kept thrusting into her. Her mind was cloudy and she could barely get words out.

"P-Porco.. I'm gonna c-cum," she babbled, looking down at his lustful eyes.

He ran his thumb down to her clit, slowly circling it. "Cum for me baby.. cum all over my dick," he said, smacking her ass again.

She felt her orgasm come over her, she threw her head back and screamed Porco's name as her body shook from her climax. Porco groaned feeling her walls tightening around him, her cream going down his cock as he thrusted.

His own orgasm was approaching, his cock twitched inside of her. He put his hand around her throat, bringing her down to his face.

"You want my cum in you? You want your pussy filled?" he growled, giving her throat a squeeze.

She nodded. "Mhm!" she replied, grinding her hips against him.

He smirked. "Your wish is granted," he said and grabbed her hips thrusting a fast pace.

Porco felt his orgasm take over, his cum filled into her pussy coating her walls with white thick cum. He groaned loudly at the feeling of his high.

He pulled out, watching as a mix of her and his own cum drip out of her pussy. "I filled you up.. I love that," he said, looking up at her.

She panted a bit from her orgasm. Porco pulled her close to him, her chest connected with his.

"I've missed having these moments with you.." he whispered and kissed her head.

She smiled a bit, burying her face into the crook of his neck. "We'll have plenty of time to have these moments," she replied and slightly kissed at his neck.

Porco twitched again. "You trying to get me riled up again?" he asked, drawing small circles into her hips.

A giggle came from her throat. "Hm.. maybe. We have all night anyway," she replied and nibbled at his sweet spot.

A gasp escaped her throat as Porco pushed her so she was lying on her back.

"You're not gonna be able to walk after I'm done with you.." he whispered in her ear.

She smirked, opening her legs for him.

The rest of the evening was filled with pure ecstasy as the two tended to each other's needs.

[adsosfraser]

The Stone’s Toll - Chapter Nine

Read on AO3

Jamie woke that morning, to his wife tangled around him. The singular thing driving him was between his legs. He kissed her neck and tugged at her skin with a sharp sting. Claire stirred and smiled up at him. Gathering her bottom lip between his teeth, his hands meandered down her shoulders, to the slope of her breasts, to her abdomen, and finally lifted the plump piece of flesh that he loved so much. 

 “Is this real? Are you real?” 

 “Would I do this if I was only a dream Sassenach?” He pinched the backside of her arse and grinned. She yelped in response and swatted his fingers away from the now stinging flesh. 

“You’re real.” She smiled and placed her palms on either side of his jaw. 

 “I’ll prove just how real enough I am lass.” He smirked and moved his hands away from her backside, further down to cup between her legs. 

 “Jamie. Stop.” Claire panted out. 

 “Have I hurt ye, Claire?” He immediately pulled away, hovering over her and softly brushing her sides. 

 “No, but there are some things I need to tell you… before we’re intimate.” 

 “Is this about Frank?”

 “What? No! Why on earth would you be thinking about him?” 

 “Well did ye?-” 

 “Once. But I didn’t encourage it.” Her lips tightened into a line. “This isn’t what I wanted to talk about Jamie.” 

 Before he could eek out a livid response, Claire jumped out of the bed towards the corner of the room. Pulling out a small silver box inside her leather bag, she plucked out a dome-shaped cup. She had two more tucked away in the small metal tin. Her hands then grabbed purchase of a small vial within her medicine bag. The objects flew onto the bed and she plopped down next to Jamie. 

 “This,” she pointed to the vial, “is a concoction of fennel and posies.”

 Jamie had grabbed the odd rubber cup and rolled it between his fingers. Claire swatted it out of his hands a little annoyed at her husband’s dirty fingernails; she would have to clean it again. 

 “And this,” she waved the small cup in front of his eyes, “is a diaphragm. Some call it a ‘womb veil’. These are all forms of birth control.” 

 “Birth… control?” He rolled out the syllables in his last word. 

 “Yes, preventative measures to avoid pregnancy.” 

 “Christ, ye would kill a bairn!” He immediately regretted his words as his wife recoiled and her eyes betrayed the hurt inside of her. 

 “No, because there would be none in the first place. It stops the sperm- seed from ever even getting into a woman to create the baby in the first place.” 

 “But surely God-” He spoke more softly. 

 “Would want me to use it.” Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jamie I’m not… I’m not ready.” Jamie shifted to hold his wife closer as the atmosphere changed from playful to sombre. “I couldn’t go through that again to not have my baby in my arms. I truly think it would kill me, it almost did.” 

 His heart softened at her admission and he knew he would do whatever would make her safe and happy, even if it meant a life of celibacy. But he hoped to God it would never come to that.

 “I dinna want ye to bear another child. I wouldna risk your loss Sassenach.” Jamie carefully pulled a curl away from her eye. “Not for a dozen bairns. We’ve Fergus and our nephew and nieces- weans enough. And our two beautiful lasses are wi’ God. So,” he paused to blink away the moisture in his eyes and swallow down the tightness of his throat, “if this wee diaphragm,” he rolled the word around his tongue, ”and posy is what’ll help ye I’ll gladly pick it fer you every day if that’s your wish.” 

 He picked up the diaphragm from her hands again, inspecting it more closely. “How does this wee thing work?” 

 “Well, I place it inside me so it covers my cervix, it should rest comfortably against my pubic bone.” 

 “Ye put that… inside ye?” He was completely disturbed by the thought. 

 “It’s not like there hasn’t been anything in there before, and I’d dare say it was even larger than that ‘wee thing’.” She grabbed a healthy hold of him to emphasise her point. 

 “Aye, that it is.” He looked down with pride and she rolled her eyes at him, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. 

 “I’ll have to take the herbs one more week, to be safe. Can you wait for me?” 

 “I’d wait forever if it came to it, fer ye Sassenach, always.” 

 “Well, and we can always do other things.” She flipped Jamie to his back and her head travelled down his body to the curls nestled atop his pubic bone. “So long as you don’t, ‘spill your seed’ inside of me. Well inside my-” 

 He expressed his agreement with a loud grunt. 

 Six days later, Jamie was practically jumping in his skin with anticipation. He had gone back to the cave, much to Claire’s dismay. Instructing her to stay at Lallybroch, he wasn’t surprised when her head of curls popped into the shadows of the fire in his small sanctuary. He was very attentive, eager to make sure she kept up her steady intake of fennel and posy. They spent most of the days cuddling together and ignoring anyone else but themselves when he wasn’t out hunting for food. Most of the food was sent off to Lallybroch through Fergus. She didn’t want to admit it, but they were both avoiding their family’s disorderly presence and unanswerable questions. Fergus stopped by frequently and Claire was glad of the company while Jamie was off. Claire spoke to both Jamie and Fergus about her many childhood adventures; those stories were safe from the fresh pang of loss she had endured. But Jamie finally put his foot down on the final night when Claire got a crick in her neck and returned her back, but her wee hands gripped him hard into their bed. There would be no returning to the cave. 

 Claire wrapped a shawl around her and tiptoed to the window. The sunrise was almost over, bringing with it an unusually bright and cloudless day. She peeked down across the courtyard, and her blood turned cold. Jamie was pulling up his breeks over his sark. Without hesitation, Claire shoved Jamie into the small wooden closet of the Laird’s room and quickly pulled the laces of her skirt and bodice. Not a moment later, the door banged open to the sight of a pock-marked redcoat. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the closet. 

 “Where is he?” 

 Claire played dumb, not willing to speak to reveal that her accent would be the same as his. That would raise even more questions that she couldn’t possibly answer. The only thing she could think of at that moment was to play into the delicacy of her gender and faint into his arms. With an overdramatic flare of the back of her hand to her forehead, she slumped onto the floor. 

 Her prone position reminded her of another stiff surface. A cold metal sheet, uncaring hands, and a pressure in circles on her temples. Panic squeezed her throat and veins.

 “Captain! This woman needs assistance up here!” 

 But it was Jenny who appeared at the door, not the Captain. 

 She gathered Claire onto her lap as best as she could being so far along in her pregnancy. “Oh no! My puir cousin! Ye see she had a great fall one day. The tragedy took her speech and now she has spells such as these all the time. I’m heart sorry ye had to see that Corporal…?” Claire relaxed into the familiar arms, so different from the ones that had restrained her.

 “Lieutenant Wilson.” He puffed out his chest.

 “Weel, Lieutenant, as ye can see my cousin Mistress Malcolm has taken up residence in this room recently. Bless her soul, the accident that stole her speech took her husband as well.” 

 The redcoat placed his tricorn over his heart and bowed his head. “Terribly sorry madame. Thank you for your cooperation.” 

 “O’ course, now away wi’ ye, we must prepare yer meal.” 

 Jenny was panting and gripped Claire’s hand when the soldier whipped out of sight. Liquid seeped down her skirts and to the stone floor below. “Jenny-” 

 “We must tend to the redcoats first.” 

 “No. Jenny. You’re only eight months along. We need to see to you immediately.”  

 “The Lieutenant-” 

 “Can go hang. Ian and Mrs. Crook will see to them.” 

 Jamie slipped out undetected down to the root cellar.

 Jenny cursed, screamed and paced around her room. The midwife was impossible, refusing to sanitise properly before touching Jenny and Claire finally kicked her out. No woman like that would be touching her sister nor her future niece or nephew. Jenny slumped into the bed with Claire’s help when her labouring was over. Caitlin Maisri Murray was impossibly tiny when she met the world. No screams wrenched through her tiny lungs and Claire was immediately pressing the child to her thigh. Her forefinger and middle finger pushed into her chest and she breathed into the limp body. Finally, her chest heaved two minutes later, and her loud banshee shrieks filled the room. Her niece was a fighter. With her help, she would weather her first days, which would soon turn into thousands. 

 She had taken up massaging the baby girl to soothe her traumatised muscles from the hard birth. Claire cradled her niece’s turned head carefully in her hand and propped her stomach on her legs. Her hands began to deftly massage the exhausted baby’s back, legs, and arms, and once she was finished she gave a small peck to her wee nose. She still had a lot of growing to do to recover, but Claire was certain she would become a scraggly and loose-toothed toddler and a beautiful teenager before growing into the mature young woman she could envision her as now. Opening her bright eyes, moisture gathered at the corner of her aunt’s eyes in reaction to the brilliant colour. They were so like Jamie’s, and she knew not all babies kept their original colour, but she hoped. Would her daughters’ eyes have looked like this?

  The men had all dispersed for drinks in the Great Room downstairs and Claire brought Ian over to the side to share the great news. She signalled with her hands to keep up the pretence of her muteness but whispered quietly with nearly closed lips as well to Ian. The Captain, Claire presumed, sauntered over to her and held out a paper. Laird MacKenzie sprawled across the material in an adolescent scrawl. 

 “A letter for your Mistress. We thank you for your hospitality and wish her congratulations.” Claire nodded and tucked the paper into the pocket beneath her skirts. 

 It was dark, the middle of night, and Jamie snuck back in when the redcoats mounted their horses. He fell asleep immediately tucked into his wife. She grabbed the small grey tin from within her leather bag and pulled out the diaphragm. She adjusted it inside her until it laid comfortably and sighed. It had been days since her return, filled with distress and sickness, panic and dismay, and the events of the past few months had come crashing down upon her once again. She needed her husband. Crawling over him, he woke from his slumber. He grinned up at her and slowly came back to reality. 

 “Thanks to yer quick-thinking Sassenach, not only was my life saved but my wee niece and all in Lallybroch.” 

 “You saved my life James Fraser, on more accounts than one. I thought it might be fair for me to return the favour.” Claire smirked and rolled their bodies so she straddled him. “And not only that, I want to protect you forever Jamie. To see you safe until we’re old and grey, with an army of grand nephews and nieces, and the grandchildren Fergus will bless us with, to surround us. You can’t get rid of me ever again.” She softly kissed his forehead, along his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and slowly brushed her lips against his eager ones.

 “Och, Sassenach. Stuck with ye for life? I can think of worse.” He stared back at his wife with mischief in his eyes and adjusted his body so they were both on their sides.

 Claire rolled her eyes as she lightly slapped his arm. She leaned even closer to him, which seemed impossible with their skin flushed up together already. Her thumb trailed a line across his bottom lip and she replaced it with her own mouth. 

 “Make love to your wife.” She whispered, obstructed by his lips but he heard her like his life depended on the very cadence of her voice. Claire let go of his lips to kiss the spot behind his ear that made him squirm. “Make love to me Jamie.” 

 Their lovemaking was frantic, both seemingly clawed to possess every inch of skin.

 When they laid dazed on their backs, recovering from their post-coital bliss, Jamie lightly pressed his fingers onto the fading burns on her stomach and traced up to the two identical circles on her temples. Her hand found the healing scar on his thigh and she stroked over the raised skin. She looked at the large gash across her husband's thigh, still red with the newness of the injury. 

 “How?” 

 “Culloden.” He gritted out. “How?” 

 Her hands guided his towards her stomach. “The stones.” Now, her temples. “Boston.” 

 She didn’t want to discuss it any further, just as he was reluctant to share the details of that dreary morning on the moor. She neglected the scar on her breast and he didn’t push any further for her to speak on it. Would he feel ashamed of her truth? Of course, he wouldn’t, but she did. It was difficult for her to think back on. Speaking on it would make it true, so she kept those memories locked tight in her brain. Maybe, with more time she could heal, and she would share everything with him completely like they once had been. 

 “Boston?” 

 “Danvers State Hospital to be specific. Or as some call it- will call it the State Lunatic Hospital at Danvers. Frank put me there when I-“ 

 “Frank did this to you?” Jamie’s teeth clenched in anger and Claire could feel the heat radiating from his skin onto hers. “If he were here, I’d fight him fer ye Sassenach. I should ha’ never sent ye to him.” 

 “You couldn’t possibly have known. You were doing what you thought best, with the information we had at the time.” 

 “What is it, that left these scars on your puir heid?” 

 “They’ll fade. Soon there won’t even be a scar, I’m sure.”

 “I dinna care about how they look on ye Sassenach, I care that ye went through pain to have them, I would ha’ gladly taken it myself.” His eyes were glossy as he implored her. “Now tell me.” 

 “In the asylum, they had these new treatments, electric shock therapy. They place these two rubber circles wrapped in like socks or something attached to a headband on your temples, and send volts of electricity through your brain. Like harnessing lightning right to your head.” His grip tightened, appalled at his wife’s description. “My mind was hazy for days, I couldn’t do much but stare listlessly at walls. I saw Fergus then, on the first night following the treatment, though I’m not sure he saw me.” 

 “He yelled out fer ye, almost at the same time every week.” 

 “Oh.” It felt better to know those nights he was truly there. “I was in there for little over a month, so I only had to endure it two times- wait no three, I think. I was a lot luckier than others, who were prisoners there for years on end. I shiver to think what that would have been like, a prisoner to your own mind and unable to say no to your jailer, or even saying no but them being apathetic towards your plight.” 

 “Fer all ye speak o’ the future, it doesna seem much better than now.” 

 “It’s true, some people use their innovations for evil then, that’s why the war I was in started. Evil exists in any time, in any place.” 

 “Weel I’m glad yer here in my arms, away from those mad bastards, and I know I can be there to fight anyone who wishes ye ill.” Her thigh began rubbing between his. 

 “I am too Jamie. So much.” 

 Laird and Lady clung tight to each other in their bed, in their home knowing they would have to leave tomorrow.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Next part of the weird Thorin-story that comes to me while I swim

Dear friends…Here I am again with another part of a story I had not planned to write and that has taken on a life of its own…

I love you, don’t hate me…

(Warning: this is less formal and a lot more…ridiculous than the last parts)

(It is “in-universe”, but barely, because I have no idea of the universe per se…)

She took the bowls to the river to rinse them in the cold waters that glittered and glimmered in the dimming light; the way the last sun of the day reflected in the ever-changing blue hues reminded her of the man she was travelling with.

It came as a very small surprise to her that her old nan had been mostly right about the dwarves, and she was more inclined to believe her post-mortem, now that she had seen a dwarf lord, no a future king, with her own eyes.

She harboured not the inkling of a doubt in her mind that he would indeed be king one day; there was something so noble in his demeanour and deportment that she found it easy enough to have faith in him. He was clearly born to lead, just as she had been born to serve.

A pang of pain washed over her heart like the cold water submerged her numb hands; she wished she could tell her grandmother about the magical creature she had come upon in the woods. How nan would have loved to hear about a man whose eyes held all the mystery of endless tunnels and the deep longing of the open sea at the same time; she would have laughed and nodded her fragile, little head, saying that kneeling was easy to those who will stand up for you as a protector rather than as an executioner.

“You shall find your master one day.” Old nan used to exclaim every time her young granddaughter had been particularly wilful or disobedient, running wild in the forest or toying around with the ingredients the old woman had collected during long hours.

She had loved her nan, but she had not believed that anyone would ever manage to curb her spirit and bind it to their will. “There are things between heaven and earth, child, that you cannot even fathom. Creatures of great strength, beings of profound wisdom, and lives full of beauty and suffering; one day, you’ll find your place in the grand design and you shall bow to its magnitude.”

At this moment, her nan’s words revealed their true and full meaning. She had believed that walking to the chapel every day would be her life’s work, but she had been wrong. All her life, she had but been waiting for the quest to begin. A quest for truth and for freedom.

His cloak was still around her shoulders and she regretted having to take it off to slip back into her own, sinfully rumpled, clothes. Checking if he was looking at her, she lifted his garment to her face and inhaled.

It smelled of woodsmoke, pine needles and of something darker that she could not identify, for she had not known any man before. Not like that. She had not smelled their skin and thought about pressing her lips against theirs; she had spent her youth with an old woman and her adulthood alone.

“Woman, there are hills in the distance. Can we reach them before night falls?” He called out to her and she dropped the garment, feeling caught and embarrassed.

“No, but we should reach them soon after. Why?” She responded, returning to where he stood, both feet firmly planted on a rocky outcrop cutting through the grass like a blade.

“We could spend the night in one of the caves in the rocks.” He cocked one eyebrow as if that had been a very obvious thing to consider.

Approaching the point where he stood, already holding on to her cart, she hesitated.

“We cannot.” Her feet stopped moving entirely as they bumped against the edge of the rock.

“I have never gone beyond this point. This is where the wilderness starts.” She whispered, pulling a small, needle-like dagger from her pocket and planting it forcefully in her forearm. While her blood dripped onto the grass, she said a quiet prayer.

“What are you doing?” He asked, interested and slightly alarmed to see her bleed onto the floor.

“My blood is bound to this earth, Master Dwarf, I want the ground to remember me and to bring me home if ever I lose my way.” She sighed before adding with a tremor in her voice: “Many have not come back after stepping past this stone. This is where the world of fire and mystery starts.”

He looked at her with calm interest. “We are getting ever closer to where my kin lives.” He declared, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Aye.” She nodded, forcing herself to smile.

“Are you afeared?” – “Aye.” She repeated, but with a heaving sigh, she lifted her foot onto the ledge. His hand closed around her elbow as he pulled her up and took his cloak from her cold, trembling hands. “You may turn back now; I won’t resent you.”

She laughed in a low, rumbling voice. “I cannot turn back, Master Thorin, I have pledged my service to you. Your story is part of my blood now, inscribed forever in this earth you might never tread upon again. Maybe, it always has. Maybe, old nan knew what would happen long before I was born.”

He had to admire her blind faith. She seemed so brave in her belief that all that happened was meant to be. Closing his hand around the shells buried in his pocket, he decided to believe her.

“Why can we not take refuge in the caves?” He then asked as they made their way through the rougher terrain. Sometimes, he had to steady her as she tottered and stumbled because she could not see the small boulders jutting out of the ground like gravestones; she never complained or pulled away from him and the smile she wore in the semi-penumbra was full of faith and affection.

“You cannot breach the integrity of the rock and delve into it without being given permission. It is rude and bad manners lead to bad accidents.” She shrugged.

“Another teaching of old nan?” He commented without irony or ill-will. “Everything beyond that rock”, she pointed to the ledge they had just passed, “is alive. We are now in the realm of the old souls where the trees have voices and the stones are stubborn. Listen, Master Dwarf.” She murmured and he was surprised, again, at the simplicity with which she accepted these things.

Indeed, he could feel the rock underneath the thin layer of greenery thrum with anticipation; it had been a long time since last someone had come this way.

“The stone bears you no ill will, woman.” He heard himself say in a low, gentle voice. Her tread was so light that it felt like a caress to the neglected ground; or, maybe, it was the inherent reverence she seemed to hold for everything around her that swayed the unmoving to support her insecure, flailing steps as well as they could.

“I give thanks to its gracious acceptance then.” She smiled, kneeling on the ground immediately and pressing both her hands to it in silent prayer.

This, he thought, was why she had survived. She had believed herself out of the reach of what she called “magic wilderness”, but he was almost certain that every element surrounding her had conspired to keep her safe.

“I have a sister.” Why did he tell her those things? “Oh, really? Is she beautiful?” She looked up.

“No, she’s a terrible…yes, she’s…She’s my sister. I guess she’s alright. Others find her beautiful.” He laughed and her smile broadened while the ground hummed in agreement with the joy they were spreading.

“She has those two terrible boys. I wonder…Would you teach them?” He was not usually this open, protecting his family and their secrets with fierce jealousy, but a part of him wanted her warm light of affection and respect to shine on his kin as much as on himself.

“Teach them what? What could a simple maiden like me teach princes?” She scoffed.

Maiden? Had she really told him that? She could have died of embarrassment.

Thankfully, he did not pick up on it, instead pinching the bridge of his impressive nose and groaning: “Respect…and how to swim.”

“Love shines brighter than respect, Master Thorin, but it doesn’t cancel it out. I’ve respected nan a great deal, but I loved her more. You are their uncle first and their king second, I’m afraid.” She smiled and he was struck by the truth in her words. It had been a silly remark, only half-serious, but her earnest tone chased away all teasing in his voice as he agreed with her.

“Keep that gorgeous head over the waterline and you’ll be fine.” She then picked up on the second part of his sentence seamlessly with a cheeky wink. “That much, I had figured out.”

They neared the looming rock now, pocked with caves and alcoves, and her steps slowed.

“Trust me, we are quite welcome.” He reassured her when he saw her hesitate; her hand slid very willingly into his own as he led her up a narrow ledge, leaving the cart at the foot of the small rise.

“I’ve told you so much about my sorry, lonesome life. Tell me more about yours if you please.” She asked as they entered a spacious cave. “We are on our way to rejoin my kin in Ered Luin.” He started, his face growing hard and unforgiving for a second in the light of the small fire he was coaxing to life. “One day, I shall reclaim Erebor though.”

She gasped. Another childhood story seemed to bleed from her befuddled mind into the real world surrounding her. “The lonely mountain…is real?” She asked, her breath bated.

“Of course it is real. What do you mean? What do you know about it?” He looked up sharply.

She had poured over every map in the small library of her town, she had even asked for express permission to enter the one in the richer, more sophisticated neighbouring town and she had questioned every travelling merchant she had encountered, but nobody had ever seen that fabled mountain. Many had even scoffed and laughed at her, shooing her away like an unruly child with too many questions and not enough common sense.

“Oh no, you were telling me a story, Master Dwarf.” She shook her head, undecided if she should tell him about a family secret; after all, since she had met him, many things she had imagined being mere fiction and a dash of conjecture had turned out to be completely true. Maybe, he would know more about those things and old mysteries would finally be resolved.

“As I said, I shall reclaim Erebor and lead my people home…after the bane is dead.”

“Which bane?” She cradled her head in her hands, elbows resting on her drawn-up knees and listened to him talk. He had a deep and melodic voice, the voice of century-old pride and eternity-spanning strength, and she liked the way it soothed the gnawing fear inside of her guts.

The sound of his voice was a presence in itself, reassuring and as solid as the creature it spilled forth from; it conveyed confidence and inspired trust. It was the voice of a king, booming in alarm and lulling in peaceful narration.

“The dragon, Smaug.” He uttered with disdain and barely held-back anger. “A dragon? Really?” She shook her head, dazed beyond words; dragons were even less likely to exist than dwarves.

“Yes, really. What other creatures do you not believe in?” He seemed partially impatient and partially amused; when his face split into a dazzling grin though, she realised that he was mostly entertained by her apparent naïveté.

“Are there really creatures made of pure light who can talk to trees and float over the ground?”

“His name is Thranduil and he’s a pain in the ass. Excuse the language, he’s a treacherous, disloyal coward, but yes, he is fair. As in…he shines with a cold, hard light. He rides an elk and some say that his soul can travel in the form of a white cow…or deer…or something stupid like that.” Thorin grumbled, heat flushing his face upon thinking of that distasteful creature he was describing. She laughed, she threw her head back and laughed heartily, her laughter echoing deep within the lonely stones encasing them. “Amazing!” She wheezed, clapping her hands and, had he hated Thranduil just a smidgen less, he would have been tempted to take her to the dark woods that cursed king lived in just to see her marvel at him.

That leaf-muncher riding other grass-eating dumb beasts did not deserve her starry-eyed wonder, even though, Thorin didn’t doubt that for one instant, the king of dark trees would have loved that.

She would also enjoy the forest, at least the way it had once been; she would love the different berries and herbs one could find galore in the shade of the trees that did indeed whisper of their dark secrets.

“Oh, I hope you won’t be disheartened by the long walk. There’s so many people I want you to meet: my darned nephews, my fiery sister…Ori, he sure loves a good story. If you start telling him your stories, he’ll follow you around like a puppy.” Thorin rumbled and she was struck by the love in his voice. These people sounded interesting and she couldn’t wait to meet them.

He inspected the fading burns and muttered: “Óin will want the recipe for this salve. If you manage to charm the old boy, and I’m sure you will, he might trade some of his own tinctures and potions with you.”

“Oh, I’d love to share my recipes with him. I’m sure there’s a dire need for it…with furnaces and dragons and such things.” She exclaimed, completely disregarding the gravity of the subject.

“Do you think they’d want to meet me though? I am just a human and far from the best of them.” Suddenly, she was overcome by a sense of dread and insecurity. She had never left her valley and the surrounding area; she would strike them as a silly girl who knew nothing of the world they had been born and raised in.

“You’re charming and you bring skills and knowledge we’d greatly profit from…but yes, we’re a private people and there will be dwarves who will not take to you kindly. I shall do my best to protect you.” He would not lie to her and she was thankful for his candid words.

“I have been poor and outcast all my life, I am not afraid of being shunned. I am used to a life in the shadows surrounding the bright lights.” She gave him a warm smile that was meant to be reassuring; she did not want him to trouble himself on her behalf.

“There will be none of that under my rule.” He sounded definitive, clearly, the last word was spoken on the matter and she dared not contradict him.

“Will you tell me of your prophecy?” His voice was soft now, enchanting, coaxing, seductive.

“Will you tell me of your mountain?” She shot back in the same melting tone.

“Tell me what you know of it first.” He challenged her and she blew up her cheeks in an effort to remember the exact words, handed down from generation to generation in her family. From daughter to daughter, words spoken in kitchens over steaming cups of herbal brew and at bedsides when the fire burned low.

“When my nan’s mother was but a babe in arms, or was it her grandmother, I don’t recall…either way, a traveller came to them.” She rolled her eyes, adding in a narrator-tone “Travellers coming seems to be a theme in our family history”.

“So, a traveller came and told them a great treasure had been received in the Lonely Mountain.”

“The Arkenstone.” Thorin exploded, shocked and outraged, apparently, she had touched upon another one of his well-guarded and jealously kept secrets.

“No, it didn’t sound like it was a stone. It was said that – after desolation and ruin, after being lost and found, upon returning home through the fire to lead his people – he, whoever he is, will be the “spring”.”

She paused, rubbing her index along her lower lip slowly to focus her mind.

“Go on…” He encouraged her. “I do not know if “spring” is meant in the sense of the season of rebirth or of the source of something good…or even as the coil that will catapult the world into the future, but he shall be the “spring”.”

She shrugged. “It’s been, oh so many years, and no doubt, the story has been tweaked beyond recognition or sense, but there it is. We’ve only ever heard of that place once: as the crib of a miracle.”

She shivered in the flickering light of the dying embers and when he took her hand, it was icy cold. “It’s a real place…I was born there, but we had to leave when the dragon came. It has vast halls, once filled with laughter and light, and…a treasure.” He tried to hold up his end of the bargain.

“You said that twice.” She teased. “What?” He frowned.

“You said that you have lived there and then you said there was a treasure. I understood you the first time.” She grinned when a treacherous blush stole into his cheeks. He was a warrior and a leader, he was not used to shameless flattery from females and he did not know how to react.

“I meant an actual treasure. Gold and gems.” He stammered, lost for words.

“I meant an actual treasure too, silver and marble.” She smiled, waving aside his embarrassment.

“Did you believe in that prophecy?” He then asked, to change the subject.

“Oh, Master Dwarf, human lives are short, but we believe in cycles. We are born, we live, we die, but everything and everyone comes back somehow. What has been lost, will be found. What has left, might well return. Nan used to say when one is at a loss, one should go back to where it ended, because chances are, that’s exactly where it will start again.”

Giving his hand a slight squeeze, she whispered: “You will face your dragon again, you will see your home again, you will have the chance to walk the same path backwards and find new solutions to old problems. This is not the end, it is but another beginning.”

She looked like an old, wise woman herself now, despite the youth of her face and the softness of her body, for her eyes seemed timeless. How many cycles had those eyes and the knowledge within them seen?

“Where is old nan now?” He asked. “Buried under the chapel where you found me. Where I found you.” Her smile was unfathomable and deep, as if the world held no secrets for her anymore, and he was in awe of her once again.

“You are cold.” He said in a hushed voice when she shivered again. He remembered how she had plunged into the cold water for his dinner and suspected that she had never really dried.

“I am fine.” She crept a little closer to the dying fire. “I don’t want to leave you here to fetch more wood.” He murmured as if to himself and she was quick to promise that she was completely comfortable the way she was. She had known cold and darkness before and she was not afraid of it.

“Will you teach my nephews to swim then?” He prompted her again, just to see her warm smile. She thought them children, but to her, they would look like full-grown men already.

“I could not bear to see such beautiful hair turned into this.” She pointed at the matted, tangled mass of her own hair hanging in a wild nest from her head.

“Their hair is pitiful either way. You might want to brush, should I give you privacy?” He offered, turning around and handing her a comb.

She wondered where he had taken it from, but she suspected that he brushed his own luscious locks obsessively every time her head was turned away, because there was no way his hair looked like this on its own.

He could hear the comb dragging through her hair and the sweet smell of fresh water filled the air, a note of citrus and wild flowers dancing on the waves the scent conjured up, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from turning around.

“You know you can watch me brush my hair? I don’t make a secret out of it.” She laughed after a moment and he did not need more coaxing or inviting than that; he spun around immediately, his eyes riveted on her slow movements.

She felt slightly awkward with him staring at her as if she was about to undress in a slow, salacious way; more than ever, she was convinced that he brushed his hair in secret in a kind of semi-erotic ritual. His hair was of course also something that was quite bewitching.

She didn’t question the fact that she seemingly found everything about him enchanting, literally from the top of his head down to the sturdy boots he was pulling off now.

“Don’t do that, you’ll get cold feet.” She warned, mainly because her own felt frozen stiff by now, but he just gave a rumbling chuckle that seemed to be echoed by the walls.

“I am…not.” He laughed, rubbing his thumb over her cold, frail hand slowly to show her that he was much better than her at keeping his body temperature stable.

“So…have you always been a herb witch?” He asked, not letting go of her hand. For some reason, he just couldn’t bear when she fell into silence. He was so full of questions; old nan had never told her that dwarves were such nosy creatures.

“What? I am not. I am a potter by trade. I started making the vessels for my nan’s tinctures, but when…after the plague, there was no need for vases and plates and so I made money how I could.” I needed to eat, she thought, and my nan’s knowledge of the world around her saved my life.

“A potter?” He sounded taken aback. “Yes, Master Thorin, I make fragile things to be used just like you make durable, strong things to be used. We are what we make, it seems.”

He cocked one eyebrow: “You don’t strike me as particularly fragile.”

“I guess it doesn’t matter anyway, we learn a trade and we work in it, but ultimately, we must come back to our blood and the responsibility we have towards it, don’t we?”

He nodded slowly. One of her hands felt warm now, encased as it was in his huge paw, while the other one was still numb with cold.

For one moment, she debated if this was the moment to be prideful, but then she just extracted her hand from his, shoving it into the gap between her tunic and her skin.

He looked positively hurt by her action.

“I am sorry.” He mumbled. “Why? For what?” She asked as she extended her other hand to him; he just stared at it in confusion. “Could you warm this one up as well, please, Master Dwarf?”

It was mortifying having to ask, but he seemed puzzled. “Oh, I thought I had crossed a line by holding your hand for so long…I…you snatched it away to tuck it away in a safe place…kind of…wiping it…I don’t know.” He confessed.

She didn’t know if she should laugh or frown at that kind of stupidity. “You are very warm.” She simply said, sighing with relief when he took her other hand and rubbed it slowly.

“You are clearly not.” He replied, his strong hands closing around hers up to the wrist. She felt like crawling into him and staying there.

Had nan known about this as well? Had she known that a dwarf lord was like a furnace, radiating light and heat in to the confined space she was huddled up in? The almost dead fire before her seemed a ridiculous, puny thing compared to him.

The hand in her tunic was growing cold again and she proceeded to another sneaky switch, which made him chuckle under his breath. “Scoot in closer?” He offered.

It was inappropriate. He was a king-to-be, he was a creature she had not believed existed in the first place, he was wholly too virile and intimidating, but when he extended his arm she pressed against his ribs with fervent eagerness.

“You’re frozen…and your clothes are wet. How are they wet?” He exclaimed as his arm settled around her shoulders. She had thrown them too carelessly onto the bank and they had soaked up some water, she thought, but she would not tell him about her own stupidity for fear of making him worry more than she was worthy of.

“Enough is enough. I’ll go get some new wood and fetch some dry clothes from the cart. You get out of these rags.” He rumbled, but when he tried to get up, she slung her arm around his waist in a fit of childish petulance.

“I’ll be back soon.” He draped his own cloak around her. “No, you’ll be cold. Take it.” She cried out, extending his garment to him. “Stone and metal hold heat better than mud.” He smiled gently and exited the cavern.

His sudden absence turned the cave into a grave and she scrambled out of her wet clothes with frantic urgency, spreading them on the rocks at the back of the grotto.

“Oh stone, let me hear those heavy footfalls so I know I’m not alone.” She begged, lying down on the floor, his cloak underneath her skin and half-draped across her shivering body.

He found nothing but his own clothes and, in his haste to get back to her, he grabbed a tunic of his and hurried up to the cave again.

She was lying on the floor and for a second, he thought that she might have fainted or worse, but when she sat up, a smile of welcome blossomed on her face that made his heart wince.

His cloak had slipped and he realised that she was back in her chemise, her naked body clearly fathomable under the thin layer of fabric. “I could only find my own tunic, I am, again, so sorry.” He mumbled, walking over to her slowly. She did not flinch or move back; her whole body seemed to lean towards his approaching silhouette instead.

While he threw some twigs onto the fire, begging it to flare into life again for her sake, he couldn’t help observing the way her breasts lifted and sank as she shrugged into his tunic, sighing in an expression of pleasure that was cruelly uncalled-for in her present state of hypothermia.

“Tell me more about your kin, Master Dwarf. Tell me about the people I shall meet so I shall know them when I see them.” She begged, extending her arms to make him sit down by her side.

“Are you still cold?” He asked, alarmed, as he settled next to her. She slipped back under his arm like a child, feeling frail and shivering, but sighing contentedly.

“I shall be warm in a minute. Look at the fire, Master Dwarf, what beautiful things we could fashion if we had the tools and the time.” She murmured, fatigue making her voice grow slow and melting, like honey dripping onto his senses.

He was aware of her slowly heating up flesh and her tiny hand resting innocently on his thigh as she was snuggled against him the way his nephews had when they had been but tiny little things. Only, he had never felt the fire pass from the hearth in front of him into his bloodstream when his nephews had sought solace or protection under his wing. He had not wondered about the way he might feel or smell when they had been this close to his body.

“I think that you’ll like Balin. I really do. He’s kind and smart; he’ll love the stories about your nan. Ah, you’ll get to meet Dwalin as well, he’s…probably my best friend. He’s solid, but he’s…there’s a reason he’s my best friend. We’re…less courteous than we should be.” Thorin started to honour her wish. “You’re lovely, stop it.” She mumbled hazily.

He thought about her words and about the mussel shells he still kept in his pocket. She was right, if he had the tools and the time, he would make something beautiful for her; she deserved something frivolous and gorgeous for all the help and devoted service she had offered him.

His eyes fell on her feet that were extended away from him and he was aghast to see them take a blueish hue. She was not falling asleep; she was succumbing to the surrounding cold still.

“Close in, oh stone, protect her.” He whispered, but the rock around him seemed to mock his words. “Close in, oh son of stone, son of ore, protect her.” Voices thrummed through the unmoving walls, and so he did.

Gathering her up like a bundle of empty clothes, he pulled her into his lap, leaning back against the stone wall and held her there.

Looking down, he saw the naked expanse of her legs which made him feel like an idiot for not having thought of that before. With one hand, he bent her legs at the knee and tucked them safely into the hollow he had created by spreading his own.

She lay flush against him now, he could feel the rise and fall of her chest against his own and, when he pulled his cloak over her gently, his hand brushed the smooth skin of her unclothed thigh.

Just a hand-breadth higher he would have brushed against other parts, secret parts, that were much like his dinner: firmly closed now, but if heated just right, revealing a glittering pearl.

This was a very inopportune thought to have, he berated himself, as his body heated up against his will, making her press against him with ever more fervour.

A maiden, she had used that word, and despite being clearly of age, he wondered if she had meant that in the most allusive and perversely seductive of senses.

When had that plague ravaged her village? When had old nan died? How long had she been alone?

It didn’t matter. She would not consider sacrificing that most precious of prizes to one such as him…She had not denied him anything this far, he remembered, not her time, not her care, not her boundless courage.

Not this though, he curbed his own fanciful imagination, never this. He would not ask anything of her, not before he could show himself worthy of all the things she had given up for his benefit this far.

Her hand snaked up and came to rest just above his heart. “Lovely.” She repeated in a low, mumbling voice.

And, as she was warm and clearly asleep now, he permitted himself the tiny, tortureous indulgence of pressing his lips for one brief moment against her head, resting against his shoulder as if it belonged there. Maybe…it did.

[romaxnogersav]

↠ At the edge of bliss

Pairing: Colin Shea x Female Reader

Warnings: explicit sexual content, smut, fingering, oral (female receiving)

Word count: 1,968

Summary: Drunk and horny, you go home with a guy named Colin. Turns out, Colin’s a little shit and wouldn’t let you come.

Kinktober day: October 2 - Edging

A/N: It’s day two already, i can’t believe it! I was a bit behind, and to be honest finished this piece 10 minutes ago in a half asleep state. I really hope it’s a nice read. It’s also my first time writing for Colin, so take that with a grain of salt, please!

Also, this is the third time I’m posting this, because I wasn’t showing in tags, so fuck you Tumblr 😌

Other than that, enjoyyy!💫

You stumbled through the door of his apartment, lips tangled with one another, hands roaming over bodies, breaths smelling of cheap alcohol.

You'd met at a bar, two, maybe three hours ago. You had talked, laughed, and he even flirted with you, shamelessly, you might add. It had been fun though. A few terrible pick-up lines, some awful jokes, and one too many tequila shots. Here you were, a little tipsy and kissing a struggling musician named Colin.

He was a great kisser, you had to give him that. His lips moved against yours with gusto, an urgency that made your core clench with need. His teeth nipped your lower lip, sucked it into his mouth, played with it until the flesh ached. His hands roamed your body, touching, groping, soft, and needy.

You moved further into the apartment, stumbling over little things scattered on the floor. Your lips though, they never moved apart.

You fisted the shirt he was wearing, pulling him closer to yourself. His lips pulled up and into a smirk against yours, and he led you back until the backs of your knees hit his bed.

His lips set to mapping the column of your throat, nipping at little bits and pieces here and there. Reaching for your jacket, he slid it off your shoulders, and let it fall to the floor.

Your clothes were off with a couple of his swift movements until the only thing remaining on your body was your panties. Your clothes laid scattered all over the place, and his were still in place. Oh, just that wouldn't do.

"You are a little too overdressed for my taste," you quipped in a small voice. He grinned at you, flushing his white teeth in the process. Next thing you knew, he was taking his own jacket off, pulling his shirt over his head.

He was naked from the waist up, and you couldn't help the way your eyes racked over his body. Toned and muscled, he looked handsome even for a musician.

You reached out and grabbed him by the belt loops of his jeans, pulling him forward and unbuttoning them with grace. You helped him take them off, the prominent bulge in his boxers pocking at your lower stomach.

He pushed you on the bed, crawling over you, his mouth finding yours again. His hands stroked your breasts, pinched your nipples, massaged the flesh.

One of his hands slid down and over your stomach, caressing your hip, your thigh. Your legs fell open on their own accord, letting his hand tease the insides of your thighs. His teasing sent a shiver through your body, but he wasn't touching the place you needed him most. His lips found your neck then, nipping at the skin gently, swirling his tongue over it afterward.

When his fingers finally glazed you through your underwear, your hips bucked against his hand, searching for more friction. Your lips fell open, and a small sigh fell through. He chuckled at your action and looked at you through his lashes.

"Oh, you are a needy one," he smirked, running his knuckles against your outer lips, feeling the wetness that had gathered in the material.

"And you are a damned tease," You breathed out in displeasure. Your own hand sneaked down his toned body, and to the tent in his boxers, cupping him through the fabric. He groaned when you gave his length a gentle squeeze, "Two can play the same game, Colin," your voice was smug, your lips twitching up and into a grin.

His lips descended to the valley of your breasts, his lips pulled into a smirk, "You're bold. I like it," he whispered before he pulled one of your nipples into his mouth. He latched on the tight bud, sucking, biting, and swirling his tongue over it.

The hand that had been teasing your core, finally slipped into your underwear, running up and down your slit, spreading your slick. Your back arched off the bed, pushing your nipple into his mouth even more.

He played with your clit for a while, pinching it between his fingers, running them over it in tight circles, his movements slow and calculated. When he finally pushed one thick digit in your tight channel, you gasped in pleasure.

He moved from one nipped to the other, while he thrust his finger in and out of you steadily. His thumb would occasionally tease your bundle of nerves, eliciting a moan out of you.

Your hand winded in the short hairs at the nape of his neck, treading through the strands, or pulling at them harshly. Your body was trembling beneath his, burning with desire. Your arousal covered his fingers, seeping out of you with ease. You'd be ashamed by how wet you were, but that was the least of your worries at that moment.

Soon, a second finger followed the first. They stretched you well, the burn pleasured you in ways you'd only imagined. He pumped his digits, stroking your walls deliciously. You could feel the tightness in your core building, bringing you closer to the edge.

Your hand, the same one that was still comfortably cupping his cock, gave it yet another squeeze when you felt his nail scratch at your inner walls. He moaned against your pulse point, where his mouth was currently busing itself, and his hips snapped forward.

When the tip of his finger hit that spot inside you that had your eyes rolling at the back of your head, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. Your hips started meeting Colin's thrusts, helping bring you closer to your climax.

Just when you thought you would finally reach your peak, when the coil in your belly was at the brink of its' snap, Colin pulled his fingers out, his hand retreating back, and far away from your core.

You cried out, a sound of protest escaping the back of your throat, your body jerking in displeasure. When your eyes met Colin's, he had a proud, evil smirk on his face.

"God, I hate you," you huffed, bringing both your hands up and over your face. You were almost able to get a taste of your release, before Colin decided to be a jackass, and not let you come.

"Nah, I don't think so, baby," he murmured, mouth sloshing over yours. He kissed you hard, teeth, and tongue meeting before he pulled with yet another grin.

He slid down your body, settling himself between your legs. He kissed the insides of your thighs, before he moved further up, nose bumping against your mound. He stripped you of your last remaining piece of clothing with his deft fingers. He spread your outer lips open, running his tongue over his mouth, his eyes blown wide. He looked like a man starved, ready to take his first meal in months.

Colin dived right in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking it into his mouth. A sinful moan left you, your eyes rolling at the back of your head. He flicked his tongue over the tight bud, switching back to sucking on it every couple of seconds.

His mouth moved down and to your slit, licking from top to bottom and back up again. He teased your pussy like that for a few torturous minutes, his thumb pressed over your clit. When his tongue delved into your core, you screamed out, pulling at his hand harshly.

He groaned against you, the sound sending pleasant, overwhelming vibrations through your core, and body. He used his hands and lips together. He wrapped his lips around your knot, and a finger breached your channel again.

With both his lips stimulating your little nub and his finger teasing your walls, you could once again feel your belly tighten, the familiar feeling of bliss approaching. You wanted to relax, wait for the euphoria to run through you in waves, but for some reason, you felt like you shouldn't.

Just when your walls clenched around Colin's fingers in warning, the knot in your belly on the verge of coming undone, and the little white stars that blurred your vision, he pulled his fingers out, his lips letting go of your clit.

You cried out loudly, your eyes filling with tears of frustration and desperation. You felt the buildup sensation subtle, and you chocked back a sob.

"You are such a little shit," you cried in frustration, a few tears escaping your eyes and falling down your cheeks. He moved over you again, brushing at your tears. He bent down until his lips were brushing against yours. He pecked them, leaving traces of the way you tested. When your tongue ran over your lips to gather the wetness, you half moaned, half sobbed in irritation.

"Shhh, don't you go crying like that. You'd get to come very soon," he whispered against your lips, taking his boxers off. His cock sprung free, standing at attention, a pearl of pre-come gathered at the head. He pulled out a thin foiled package from his bedside table, snatching it open with his teeth, and swiftly rolling the rubber on.

He took himself in hand, giving his length a few strokes. He moved his thighs on either side of your body, rubbing the tip on your clit, and up and down your slit. He slowly pushed in then, filling your pussy inch by inch, the burn giving you a nice, tingling pleasure.

Colin sunk to the hilt, before he pulled back and snapped his hips forward. He set a steady, rough pace, hands holding you in place, while he did all the work. The fullness of his cock dragged through your walls amazingly, his tip hitting places inside you, you didn't know existed.

He started moving faster, his thrusts turning harsher, the sound of skin slapping against skin the only thing you could hear. Your pussy squeezed him whole, and when the tip of his length hit that special spot inside you, you could feel your fast approaching climax.

You moaned and gasped, his coos making little to soothe the sinful sounds that escaped from your parted lips. When he added his fingers to the mix again, pushing onto your clit, and rubbing tight circles over it, you knew you were a goner.

"Come on, go on. I know you're dying to come," he murmured into your ear. You've had enough of his teasing, of his edging, of the way he had held you at the edge of bliss for so long.

Your vision blurred at the edges, your mouth falling open. Your body quaked, your velvet heat clenching around Colin's length in a vice-like grip. Your thighs, wrapped tightly around his middle, as they shook around his body. You fell with his name on your lips.

You were barely able to take a breath in when you felt Colin's cock twitch inside you, and soon he followed you through the edge with a groan and a few muffled curses.

You were still shaking, even minutes later. It was the most intense orgasm you've ever had. Edged to the brink of release, twice, before you were finally allowed to pass through the other side, and feel the earthshattering coil inside you snap.

Panting, he pulled his softening dick out of you and settled on his back beside you. He turned to look at you, a blissed-out smile on his face, with a glint of something else in his eyes.

"You are welcome, by the way," he quipped, smirking once again. You swatted at his chest, a little laugh bubbling to the surface.

"Damned tease," you repeated your earlier statement. He kissed you again, body tangling with yours. He held you at the edge five more times before the sun rose hours later.

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@funfickgirl22​ @navybrat817​ @miraclesoflove​ @chris-evanslover​

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@edityourwishingwell

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***My work is not to be posted or published on any other sites (Wattpad, Fanfic, etc.) without my permission! I update my stories on Tumblr and AO3 only! Reblogs are golden, though!💫

[dreamdropxoxo]

Hey! For the prompt kisses, would you consider doing 27 for Lamen? Thanks you so mich!😘😘

Thank you so much for your prompt ❤️. I had so much fun writing it xD This might also explain the word count which I once again couldn’t adhere to 😂

I hope you all enjoy!

The prompt is from the list here, where you find an overview over all my answers. (Original post of the prompt list here). 

27. Kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Now

They were drunk. That was the only excuse Damen had. He knew it was a shitty excuse and that he would absolutely regret what was happening now by tomorrow morning. But right now he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

-

Half a day earlier

“Damen!” Auguste yelled through the house he inhabited with Nikandros and Damen. The three of them were living together since college in this great ass manor of Damen’s family. 

“What?” He was lounging before the TV and didn’t intend to get up just because his friend wasn’t able to move his own ass.

“We’re hosting a party tonight. Get up, get up, get up! You lazy sod.” Auguste grinned from ear to ear and Damen sighed. “Seriously? Why?”

“Do we need a reason? You’re depressed because of Jokaste, Nik is depressed because of Jord and I’m not doing this any longer. Three perfectly acceptable reasons for a party. So, help me.”

Damen knew he had no choice, but to do as Auguste asked. Although he wanted to correct Auguste. He was not that depressed because of Jokaste.

-

Now

Laurent’s weight in his lap was perfect. He was heavier than Jokaste, but he felt also so much more real than she ever felt. His arms were wrapped around Damen’s neck, one hand buried in his curls while he tilted his head for the best angle.

-

Two hours earlier

The music was loud in the living room and Damen needed a break. He headed towards the kitchen, but was intercepted by multiple of their friends on his way there. 

“Damen. Do you know who’s here tonight?” Pallas and Lazar stopped him next and he only lifted one eyebrow. “I do not. Who, pray tell, would be here then?”

“Laurent.” Lazar grinned, especially when Damen froze. He couldn’t keep his reaction to himself. Because Laurent was here. In his house.

“He is?”

“Yes. And he’s just as single as he was half a year ago. Now that you’re single too, maybe you should act on it?” 

-

Half a year earlier

Damen hadn’t seen Laurent for a long time. Auguste’s younger brother had completed his PhD abroad and had then continued to work abroad for three years before coming back to Marlas. 

But now he was back and sat in their dining room, chatting with them over a shared meal. Damen was enchanted. Laurent was gorgeous, but he was also quick witted, funny and empathetic. He was everything Damen hadn’t known he wanted and now he just sat there at their table. Laughing at something Auguste had told him.

Damen was aware of the irritated look Jokaste threw his way, but he couldn’t care less. He was too focused on not missing a single micro expression on Laurent’s face. 

-

Now

Everything around them slowed to a stop. The pounding music faded into the background. Laurent’s knees pressed against his hips, his blue eyes were electrifying and when they flickered to Damen’s mouth, he groaned and tightened his holds on the lean hips.

-

One hour earlier

“Damen, come on, we need another person to play!” Lazar’s voice was much too pleased and Damen knew, this was a sign to go running for the hills. He risked a glance against his better judgement and saw Lazar, Kashel, Vannes, Nicaise, Aimeric, Nikandros and Laurent sitting in a circle. There was one gap between Kashel and Nicaise. He walked towards them before his brain caught up with him. When he sat down, Nicaise elbowed him, hard.

“You idiot! You should have run when you still could.”

Damen grinned and hugged him. “Och, Nicaise, are you worried about me.” 

The elbow to his ribs punched the air out of him this time. “Get off of me you brute.”

Lazar laughed and spun the bottle. “Kashel, dearest. Truth or Dare?”

-

Now

Laurent pulled at his hair and tilted his head back even further. Damen could only stare helplessly into his eyes.

The blond’s gaze flickered to his mouth again, only for a split second and then his breath puffed against Damen’s lips. He smelled like whiskey and something so inherently Laurent, that Damen almost lost his mind. His grip turned white knuckled around Laurent’s hips. He would have bruises tomorrow for sure, considering how pale his skin was.

-

Two months earlier

“Laurent!” Damen stood and waved the blond man down. He sat in their favorite bar, Laurent just arriving. Still in the suit he wore to work.

He looked breathtaking and many gazes followed him when he made his way over to Damen. He slid in the chair across from him and smiled. “What did you order?”

“The same as always.”

“Where’s Jokaste?” Laurent’s gaze flickered to the empty spot beside Damen and he could only shrug.

“She wasn’t up for drinks today. But Auguste, Lazar and Nik will join us later. I think Pallas mumbled something about coming too.”

Laurent nodded and leaned in. “Then you have to hurry, tell me everything exciting before they arrive and shout so loudly I can’t even hear my own voice anymore.”

Damen laughed and leaned in too. Laurent smelled like sandalwood.

-

Now

Damen felt the blood rush south just by the prolonged proximity and the weight of Laurent in his lap and his hand in his hair. 

Laurent leaned in closer. “Tell me you don’t want it and I’ll stop.” He sounded very in control, not as if he was dead drunk, which he was, definitively. Damen knew what Laurent drank normally and he had seen what he had been drinking the whole evening and he had to be completely sloshed.

“I can’t.”

-

Five minutes earlier

“Laurent! Oh this will be good,” Aimeric rubbed his hands together. “Truth or dare?”

Laurent sighed and pinched the root of his nose. “Why me?” It was almost inaudible but Damen was very attentive to every move Laurent had made during the game.

“Dare.”

Aimeric looked very pleased. “I want you to climb in Damen’s lap and seduce him until he kisses you.”

Nikandros laughed. “Gods, this will be easy.” 

Damen couldn’t even appreciate Nik’s good humor because his brain had stopped working somewhere around the words ‘climb in Damen’s lap’ and ‘until he kisses you’.

Laurent stood and Damen felt the whimper rise in his throat.

-

Now

Laurent trailed one hand over Damen’s jaw. He smirked and licked his lips. Damen felt the breath catch in his throat. 

“Good. Now then, kiss me, Damen.”

It was as if he had only waited for permission. He surged up and pressed his lips against Laurent’s. They were just as soft as he had always imagined and he tasted even better than Damen would have assumed. He kissed and kissed him, until both of them were out of breath. 

When Laurent made to pull back, Damen pulled him back in with one hand in his neck. The blond man gasped against his lips, scooted closer in Damen’s lap, rubbing their crotches together and Damen used the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth.

“Hot damn. Aimeric, you deserve a fucking prize.” Lazar, an absent part of Damen’s brain registered.

“I told you this would be too easy for him to achieve.” Nikandros.

Nicaise pocked Damen in the ribs with one very sharp fingernail. “Could you please fucking stop? I’m getting sick all over you if you continue.”

Laurent pulled back again with a gasp and they stared at each other. Damen debated if he could get away with standing and carrying Laurent off to his bedroom.

His thoughts had to be very obvious, because Laurent smirked again. “I’m not that easy, not even for you, Damianos. Men who want me have to wine and dine me first.”

He disentangled his long legs and stood. Damen could only watch him go in a complete daze.

[svnflowervol666]

Uncertainty ~ PART TWO (Frat boy!Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

PART ONE

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, mentions of smut

Author’s Note: Aaaaaand here’s the long awaited continuation! I was almost convinced that I was giving up on this idea, but then I felt compelled to continue the journey for these two. I hope you all enjoy. Let me know if you’d like more parts and what you’d like to happen between these idiots. Take care and TPWK.

Harry didn’t know whether he should be feeling elated or uneasy. It was precisely forty seconds before his calculus class was set to begin and Y/N had failed to show her face. One one hand, she wasn’t here and that meant Harry wouldn’t have to face her after what happened at his party this weekend. She wasn’t able to ask him questions that made his chest vibrate with anxiety and he wasn’t going to have to tell her about how he had been in her apartment when she was more or less unconscious from having one too many cup fulls of the punch his fraternity brother made from several mismatched bottles of liquor in their basement. 

However, on the other hand, the fact that she wasn’t here made him almost feel like losing his breakfast into the nearest trash bin. What if she remembered him taking her home and was so appalled that he’d invaded her space that she couldn’t even stand to look at his face? What if she remembered him buying her chips and making her nurse a cup of water in the car ride home and untangling the delicate straps of her dress until she was down to her bra and panties and felt so violated by it that she dropped the class? Better yet, why did he care so much about what someone who was merely an acquaintance thought of him when he was only trying to take care of her? 

Because of this, because of the fact that the obnoxiously pretty girl he sat beside in calculus had unknowingly dug her claws into the pores of his psyche and refused to release him from her grip, he was almost certain that her absence was worse.

He didn’t think his leg had stopped bouncing on the metal support bar of the uncomfortable desk chair since he’d taken his seat fifteen minutes ago. Every time there was even the slightest disturbance that wasn’t his profressor’s obnoxious voice or the squeaking of a marker on the white board, his head snapped up to the weighted, wooden door to see if it was her finally making her grand entrance into class. In an attempt to busy himself, he checked his phone - A few texts from the president of his frat about sweatshirt orders that he knew he was going to ignore before he finished reading the first sentence, one from his sister about his mum’s birthday that needed to be planned two months in advance for some reason, one from his friend about the girl he had fucked at the very party that Harry was trying very hard not to think about right now. The pads of his thumbs were clammy and catching on the screen; it was no use. He wasn’t going to be able to stop thinking about Y/N until he saw her face. 

He kicked himself for not leaving her his phone number along with the pain medicine and water that he’d laid out on her counter so that he could have at least checked up on her and explained himself then. Had he made it worse by not saying anything or leaving her a note? Had she spent all weekend knowing that it was him who had taken her home, or did she have no idea that he had quite literally saved her from being assaulted at his frat house and more or less tucked her into bed that night like a toddler sans the bedtime story before ducking out without a word? If he asked himself one more fucking question, he thought he was going to explode.

Nearly twenty minutes into the class and Harry had convinced himself that she wasn’t coming. He had accepted that he’d have to sit with his anxiety for two more days and pray to whoever was listening that she’d either show up to class on Wednesday and ease his qualms or tell him off and he’d never be able to hear her sweet laugh when he made one of his dumb math jokes again. It was right when the weaselly profressor with glasses that made his eyes look three times their actual size and a comb-over hairdo to mask his premature balding starting babbling on about derivatives that the clicking mechanism of the door handle pierced the walls of the lecture hall -- and there she was.

She scurried in with her head down and muffled her footsteps the best that she could in order to not disrupt the lesson any further. A sweating, plastic cup of coffee clutched tightly in her hand, careful as to not allow the ice to slosh around and draw even more attention to her tardiness (most likely a soymilk latte with an extra shot of espresso - Harry had picked up on her caffeine preference when he’d steal glances at her and read the markups the barista had made on her cup). Harry finally let out the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when she muttered quiet apologies to the students around her and took her unoffical seat next to him.

“Hi,” she whispered as she quickly but quietly pulled her spiral notebook from her worn, canvas backpack.

Harry suddenly felt his heart beating in his ears and knew for a fact that a startling blush shade of red was creeping up the neck of his stretched out Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. The best he could muster was a tight-lipped nod of acknowledgment in her direction, as he felt like he might melt into the seat and slip away if he tried to do anything else.

No other exchanges were made throughout the remainder of the lecture, just Harry mindlessly jotting down whatever notes the professor had written on the board in attempt to look busy and her occassionally pulling sips from the dilluted espresso through a chewed, flimsy straw. He didn’t know if she felt it too, the tangible awkwardness that lingered in the air like cigarette smoke in a dive bar in the deepest depths of New York City. But she did.

In fact, she had been thinking about Harry just as much if not more than he had been thinking of her ever since she woke up on Saturday morning with a pounding headache and pain reliever laid out conveniently on her counter top. She couldn’t shake the lurking thought that it was Harry that had taken her home from the party she’d been dragged out of the house to go to. Her friend wasn’t her escort, as she’d spoken to her later in the afternoon and found out that she’d ended up going home with an ex-girlfriend. She was beyond drunk, that wasn’t a question. But in the midst of her downward spiral of sobriety, she remembers his face. She remembers a thick accent and an emerald green, intimidating gaze and conversations about calculus and something about, “no peeking.” At least, she thinks she does.

It loitered like a pinched nerve in the back of her brain. She couldn’t for the life of her come up with a reason as to why Harry would have been the one to take her home on Friday night, but she couldn’t think of who else it could be or why he was the first one to come to mind whenever she pondered the notion. Her patchwork of memories taunted her; tangled dress straps and greasy chips and sitting on the lip of a bathtub that wasn’t hers. She had the pieces, but she couldn’t put them together.

She toyed with the idea of asking Harry about it. She knew it was the right thing to do seeing she sat by him in calculus three times a week and it would be incredibly awkward if he was who brought her home and plugged her phone in to charge and laid out hangover-curing meds on her counter and she didn’t bring it up. But what if he tells her something she doesn’t want to hear? What if he tells her that she rambled embarrassing secrets the entire drive back to her apartment or what if she accidentally told him that she thinks the way he reflexively rubs the tip of his nose with his ringed index finger is the cutest thing she’s ever seen? 

It wasn’t a hastle for her to admit to herself that Harry was attractive. Hell, he was better looking than most of the men she’d encountered in college thus far. She’d chalked his persistent need to engage in conversation with her during class up to the fact that he was bad at math and was milking his advantage of sitting beside a smart girl to get the passing grade he needed and not up to the idea that he might possibly be looking for a way to ease into more casual banter that lead to exchanging phone numbers and hanging out at her favorite bar on the east side. However, it didn’t stop her from paying a little more attention to the lectures and showing a little more extra work on her assignments so that she’d be ready to talk to him when he undoubtedly asked her about the homework each morning when she took her seat next to him. Maybe all of this was something deep inside of her that made her want to think it was Harry - a strange, unrealistic, romantic daydream come true where he was her knight in shining armor and swept her off her feet and away from beer pong and novelty Reagan/Bush ‘84 memorabilia.

Neither of them realized class was over and the professor had dismissed everyone until the uproar of scuffling chair legs and zippers burst the bubble of their inner turmoil. They were slow to face each other, slow to muster up the courage to be the first one to start the dreaded conversation they’ve been festering over all weekend.

The room was nearly cleared now, sans a few lingering bodies and a handful of confused students needed assistance from the professor. Y/N’s “I have a question,” came out at the same exact time as Harry’s, “Do you remember-.”

“Oh, sorry,” she chuckled nervously, “Go ahead.”

“S’okay. You first,” Harry’s baritone oozed from his naturally watermelon-colored lips and made butterflies flutter violently in her tummy.

"Umm, this might be kind of strange but...” she paused, exhaling shakily in a way that Harry was able to comprehend that she was probably going to bring up the same exact thing he was.

“Where you at the party on Greek Row last Friday?”

Harry nervously stuffed his hands in the pockets of his loose jeans.

“Erm, yeah. I was. That’s my frat actually.”

“Oh, really? I didn’t know that.”

“Ye’.”

There it was again. That fucking adorable non-existent itch on the tip of Harry’s nose that he scratched with the knuckle of his index finger that she had grown so fond of over the past few months.

“Okay, well....Did we? I mean did you...umm.. did you take me home that night?”

He could tell that it made her uncomfortable to talk about, like she was scared to know the answer or scared to see the look on his face when she found out he had no idea what she was talking about.

“It’s just...I woke up on Saturday and I don’t remember much, but I swear I remember you driving me back to my apartment? I’m sorry if that’s weird. I just feel like we were together at some poi-”

“Ye’, that was me,” Harry confirmed her suspicions that had been eating her alive for the last two days. 

“Found ye’ in the bathroom. You were pretty trashed and couldn’t tell me where ye’ ride was so I just took ye’ home.”

“Jesus Christ,” a wave of relief crashed through her like a tidal wave.

Thank fuck she now had confirmation that she hadn’t lost her mind.

“I thought I was going fucking crazy. Thank you. Seriously. You didn’t have to do that.”

“‘S no problem. It was the right thing t’ do. Plus, I don’t know what I wouldn’t done for the rest of the semester if something happened to m’ math buddy,” he nudged his shoulder into hers in attempt to lift the strain from her composure. 

Her soft chuckle filled his ears like the sweetest melody he had ever heard. The way the corners of her eyes crinkled when she smiled and how she turned her head to side as if she were embarrassed of the way she couldn’t help but bear her teeth when he laughed stirred something inside of him. Not anything he could necessarily place, just something that he recognized as foreign however it wasn’t particularly unpleasant either. 

“I’m sure you would’ve managed,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile while rolling her ankle around behind her other leg to busy herself.

“I owe you big time,” she began again after a brief period of silence, “Is there anything I can do to pay you back for being my babysitter? Do you smoke? I know a guy and I can have him get you some-”

“Seriously, Y/N,” Harry insisted, “’S fine. Ye’ don’t have t’ do anything f’ me. I was just being a friend.”

He was beginning to get anxious again, feeling the pores in his skin start to swell with perspiration. 

“No, Harry. It’s not fine. You could’ve been doing a million other things besides taking care of my drunk ass. I shouldn’t have even went in the first place. Stupid fucking ex-”

“Ex?” Harry felt the tips of his ears flood with heat.

“Uhh, yeah. I dated, well... had a ‘thing,’ with a guy from that fraternity. Your frat too, I guess? My friend thought it would be fun to show up and make him jealous. Guess I only really proved his point.”

“Erm, who is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

The thought that Y/N had been under his nose this entire time, potentially walking around the house in which he lived in and associating herself with any of the vile people he dreadfully called his “brothers” made his skin crawl. He didn’t know her that well, but he knew she was too good for any of them. And most definitely too good for him. 

“Oliver. Do you know him well?”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he knew exactly who Oliver was. Harry’s frat was filled with more boys than he could keep up with, so no, he didn’t know everyone extremely well (and honestly preferred it that anyway), but he was certainly acquainted with the man Y/N had just mentioned. He had buzzwords that came to mind with everyone he wasn’t immediately familiar with in order to keep them in line in his head. Oliver’s just so happened to be “Loud-Mouthed Asshole With No Sense of Personal Space and a Nicotine Addiction.”

“Heard of him. But no, not really. Frat’s pretty big so I just tend t’ stick with my own little group ye’ know? Everybody kinda does that.”

“Yeah, that makes sense. He never really brought me around much anyway, so I don’t really know much about it. Think he was kind of embarrassed of me.”

“Everyone’s an asshole there. Trust me. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t you.”

“Thanks, but I doubt that.”

She seemed duller now, regretting that she accidentally let the mention of the boy that broke her heart into trillions of tiny, sharp shards of hazardous glass.

“Oh, wait!” 

The way she perked up was almost immediate, giving Harry a form of whiplash from how quickly her mood had shifted.

“Midterms are next week right?”

Harry nodded.

“What if,” she tapped her chin with her pointer finger in exaggerated thought, “You come over and we study together? And if I just so happen to be cooking a kick ass dinner when you get here, will you accept that as your reparation for taking me home?”

Guess she didn’t remember the part when Harry told her he wasn’t actually bad at math.

“If it’ll make ye’ sleep better at night, then sure,” Harry responded with jest.

Harry had no earthly idea why in the fuck he was agreeing to this. His mind was already racing and he knew damn well that this would end in awkward, uncomfortable disaster, but he couldn’t help but go along.

“It definitely will. I will never stop apologizing for this. I don’t even want to know what I said to you that night.”

“It wasn’t tha’ bad. Promise. Just kept cryin’ about wantin’ chips is all.”

“That explains the wrapper in my trash can,” she brought her palm to her forehead in revelation. 

“Anyways, you wanna come over Saturday then? That work for you?”

“Yeah, sure. Fine wi’ me.”

“Great,” Y/N huffed, “I’ll give you my number and we can sort it out later.”

“Alright,” his one-sided smirk was hard to miss.

“Alright,” she repeated, “Guess I’ll see you next class.”

She flashed him her pearly whites before the bubble between them burst and the two of them realized they’d been the only ones in the now empty lecture hall for an unknown amount of time.

//

Harry made the dreadful treck from his bedroom upstairs to the oversized kitchen meant to harvest enough supplies for the ungodly amount of men that lived in the red brick structure he called home. Curse the human body for requiring food to survive.

He wasn’t exaggerating when he said that he keeps to himself and only really engages with the small handful of boys he actually calls his brothers. The rest of them, for lack of a better word, were mediocre. They treated anyone and everyone around them that didn’t benefit them in just the right way as if they were disposable and couldn’t care less about who they hurt in the process. They drank without remorse, sucked down toxic chemicals from a plastic cartridge without regard for the popcorn lung they’d inevitable develop in ten years tops, fucked any girl that was willing to part their legs for them without reciprocating the very release they confided in them for. Harry often wondered who raised such vile creatures, but found his answer in the fact that his mother had pounded the notion to treat people with kindness, no matter the circumstance, into his body, mind and soul from the second he was sentient.

However, this didn’t mean he didn’t slip up every now and then. It’s hard not to when you’re surrounded by booze and drugs and enough pretty women to fill an Olympic sized swimming pool. You become socialized into thinking that that type of behavior is acceptable, but the reality is that there isn’t quite anyone there to reprimand you for it. Being in a fraternity places you damn near at the top of the college food chain; there’s hardly anything or any one person that has the ability to stop you from doing just about whatever the fuck you want. As twisted as it is, those are the undeniable politics of universities. 

Perhaps that’s why Harry joined one to begin with. It’s a security blanket that protects him from feeling alone or being rejected, at least that’s what it was at first. He wishes more by the day that he could pack his bags and get the fuck out of the grimey, yet still immaculately grandiouse boarding house and never speak to or even look at anyone that’s ever lived there ever. But quite frankly, he’s scared of what will happen to him. He’s built his entire identity around this place, around these men, despite how awful they can be to the point where he doesn’t know where his proclamation as a fraternity brother ends and his real self begins. Sure, it’s all for show and he barely believes in any of the bullshit they feed the naive, desperate pledges, but he’s known nothing besides this life throughout his entire college career. If he can just wait it out until after graduation, he’ll be forced to seek solice elsewhere and not prematurely removed from the comfort his fraternity has provided him. 

“Dude, are you gonna eat that thing or deepthroat it?”

An obnoxious, almost nasally voice poked the membrane of the train of thought Harry had been wading in.

Harry cut his eyes in the direction of the sound, only to be met with the sole fucking face he had hoped he wouldn’t run into on his once daily run to the pantry for nourishment.

Oliver.

“Sorry,” Harry muttered out of habit (he certainly didn’t mean it, especially after his conversation with Y/N the day before), keenly aware of how stupid he probably looked with an uneaten banana resting against his parted lips as if he was planning on spitting on the tip of it in attempt to seduce the ripened fruit.

“Am I in ye’ way?”

“Nah,” Oliver answered, “I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”

Harry remained planted in his spot against the counter, his long legs outstretched as the bottom notch of his spine balanced against the lip of the black marble. Oliver dug around the fridge loudly, rustling glass bottles and crinkly packages of processed foods until his hands landed on the item he had been looking for - a can of sugary soda that just the sight of made Harry’s teeth hurt.

“Hey, Oliver?” Harry called out.

“Sup?” the boy dressed in a baby blue golf tee spoke in between carbonated belches.

Harry winced at the ill-mannered sound, but it didn’t deter him.

“Do ye’ know a Y/N?”

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad and nosey idea and definitely not his business to seek out, but he wanted to know more. He had to know more.

“Uhh, yeah. I dated a Y/N. Y/N L/N. Just broke up with her actually. Why?”

“Just wondering,” Harry stuffed a bite of the sweet, creamy fruit into his mouth to shut himself up before he said too much.

“If that’s who you’re talking about, Christ. That woman was a handful.”

“What do ye’ mean?”

Oliver rolled his eyes as if to say this was a can of worms that Harry wouldn’t dare want to crank open. Harry had a feeling that he was being a tad bit melodramatic.

“She was so fucking clingy. I swear to god, dude. She wanted to be around me all the fucking time. Wanting me to meet her friends and come over just to cuddle and all of that shit. She’s such a fucking prude, too. Wouldn’t let me and Shane eiffel tower her. Goody-good ass bitch.”

“Hold on,” Harry interjected, “You’re upset because she wouldn’t have a threesome w’ you?”

His impatience with the man was growing more miniscule by the second.

Oliver shrugged, “Probably ‘cause I was her first. Also probably explains why she clung to me like a goddamn bat, too. She’s a good fuck, though. Still nice and tight. If you’re asking about her because you’re interested, I’d say go for it but she’s not gonna let you breathe after you do. Swear to god that bitch was in love with me and we were only together for a few months.”

“Good t’ know. Thanks mate,” Harry sneered through his teeth before dropping his half-eaten banana in the bin beside him and all but storming out of the kitchen.

Oliver’s psychoanalysis of the sweet girl he sat beside in calculus with the precious laugh that snored in her sleep and cried over fresh chips and always helped with the homework that he didn’t really need help with couldn’t have been more wrong, that he knew for certain. It was clear to Harry that she had been groomed and manipulated by Oliver so that he could take what he wanted from her and leave her to dry out like a fallen leave in the crisp cold of fall. She was young and naive and believed Oliver when he spewed whatever sugar-coated bullshit he needed to get into her pants (and have the audacity to try and push a threesome onto her). Harry was a man but he wasn’t stupid and could very well imagine the gruesome stab to the gut she must have felt when she realized the first person she’d ever trusted to such an intimate extent turned on her. It made his stomach turn. 

Like he’d told himself one hundred times, he didn’t know this girl very well, but he knew she was a good person. She was a human being - a kind and sensible human being that never turned down his constant nags to help him with confusing problems on the homework just to hear her voice. She had just so happened to fall victim to a narcissist’s self-fulfilling profecy. 

He wanted to know more about her. He knew Oliver was bigoted and vain and only told him what he wanted him to know and that there was definitely more to the story than what was disclosed to him in the kitchen just now, but he felt a sense of urgency to see it for himself. 

Harry had a newfound fondess towards Y/N, and a newfound hatred towards Oliver.

[btswishes]

What we were and what we are

One Shot/ Random

A/N: Take it as an emotional dump. I will put a keep readying line since I don’t think anyone would want to read this. XD Have fun anyways if you wish to stay friend. Who knows maybe it could be a Yoongi x Reader , friends to lovers story, idk. 

Word count:   2,535

Playlist recommended for this : Jin-Epiphany   Big Bang- Loser  Big Bang- Blue   at the end you can try BTS- We Are Bulletproof The Eternal

Warnings:  dark, anxiety, talk of trauma , be yourself please

                   ----------------------------------------------------------------------

  The sky was covered with soft cotton candy like clouds, tinted in the colors of the ending day. Oranges, reds, blues, yellows, you name it it was there. The wind was warm and but a whispering tender sensation over your exposed skin. The grass pillowing your body under the roughly placed cover, as your head moved up and down by Yoongi’s breath. Laying onto him felt like a antidepressant pill to you.Time had stopped. He was leaning onto his left arm as you both were looking up at the sky. His free hand from time to time brushing over your hair. 

“Your mom is calling.” he said taking a glance at your lit up phone screen

“Leave it.” you didn’t even use all the breath in your lungs with this sentence. 

“Shouldn’t you pick up tho? I mean she is your mom.” Yoongi’s eyes now focused onto you 

“Nah man, she is probably mad at me for something. My mom or not, good or shitty relationship, no matter how much parents say ‘i understand you’ or ‘i was your age once too’ .It never works, telling them anything ends up being a pain in the ass later. Asking for help when you fuck up is the same.” you tried following a lonely cloud with the corner of your eye

“I guess them not accepting that something is wrong with their kids is a defense mechanism.” 

“That fucks us up tho. Just because they want to lie to themselves to feel better, leaves their kids untreated and undiagnosed ,messing them up. Years of being bullied and not knowing why, can’t study even if they try, can’t be themselves. Such an easy solution, yet such a hard choice to make to take the first step.” you sighed as you spoke out, a bit of disappointment mixed in with your breath. 

“Ha ha ha.” Yoongi laughed under his nose before laying back down 

“The fuck did I say?” you cut him off, thinking the giggle was a bit displaced in this talk

“And when you take the first step? What then? The so called professionals lie to us too, give us chemistry and tell us all will be ok as they turn us into addicts to fake serotonin. Psychologists? The word comes from Greek meaning the study of the soul, yet those assholes look at us as bags of meat that you can stuff with pills. Yet we would do anything to get that drop of calmness, that feeling of being a bit happy for being alive right now. And when the effect passes? You want more and more, pill after pill, pharmacy after pharmacy. What difference is there between us people with anxiety and disorders and drug addicts? The medical degree probably.” 

  You smirked after his last words “ Not all doctors are bad, but you can feel how genuine they are, the rest are health merchants. I don’t think there was a difference in the first place. Drugs, alcohol, smoking fuck it, even sex, man. It’s all to fill that void with dopamine, serotonin and all the bio crap.” 

“Isn’t that chemistry tho?”

“We learned it in biology class so it’s bio to me. Do I look like a professor to you?” you rolled over and flicked his nose earning a ‘yah!’ “Hey.” 

“Wasup?” Yoongi pulled his hand from under his head and spread his arms wide like a star in the vast sky. 

“You know that thing where people ask you, if you saw your younger self in front of you right now and they were having the same feelings as you. What would you do?”

“I don’t know honestly, probably give the little guy a hug and some money ,or buy him something to eat. Someone out there for sure has it shittier than me, but I guess one of my mistakes was to undervalue my own emotions and mental state. Fuck, i got myself in such a hole. When people say ‘after you hit the bottom there is no where more to go but up’ , honestly that is straight up crap and bullshit. Some of us keep clawing and digging fearing that there is more to come. “ 

“Ah.” a memory popped up in your head on it’s own “That shit hole. Yeah, either you lose yourself laying there with bloody fingernails and hands, or you start crawling back up like a bug. You know, the blood is gonna stain the walls so next time you fall you will remember and catch yourself...if you make it that far.” lifting your hand, you covered a bit of the sky with it, noticing the colors around it “What about the times we reach out but no one grabs on?”

“Fuck! Y/N! We were supposed to have a nice walk in the park not a whole ass depressing talk session!” Yoongi hissed out, unlike his words his voice wasn’t angry

“Oh come on, you know that somehow we always end up talking about this shit.We are both broken pieces, but I think that isn’t bad at all.” you felt his breath stop under you for a split second “I feel like that is why we fit so well together.”

“Oh for real?” he asked a bit surprised by your words “I always thought it was because we were both hella toxic.” you swung your hand and hit him in the stomach “OOF!” he folded in half, sending you sitting up “I forgot how aggressive you were too.” Yoongi’s voice was coming from between his teeth.

“I am serious! I feel like we went through our hard times and learned to manage, that is why we can talk about all these things like this.” 

“Makes sense, we were each other’s shoulder. You start falling, I pull on you and the other way around.”

 You noticed the contagious smirk on his face that mirrored onto you almost instantly “We fall together, we crawl back up together. Damn we sound inspirational.”

“I told you! We should make one of those vlog channels where people wake up at 5 am looking like damn models, meditate and finish all their work before 11am.” throwing your body back you fell onto the cover, but Yoongi didn’t join you. He staid sitting, letting you focus on his back as he continued “You know we are losers, right?” 

“The biggest losers out there.” 

  He looked towards the sky letting the wind play with his hair, when suddenly you both burst out laughing. Your voices were so loud the birds flew away. “Yeah, we are.”

“Honestly tho Yoongs. Why did we care so much what people thought of us? I mean sometimes I still do but-”

“Same, same.”

“Don’t cut me off stupid!” you kicked him a bit “As I was saying!” you emphasized on ‘saying’ ,when he pinched your leg in retaliation a couple of times “Body types, dudes, girls, genderfluid or no gender at all. Being cute or stylish, pretty or ugly, was a mad waste of time. The nerd is gonna probably become rich, the ugly people will end up becoming better lookin that those basic Karens. I swear, even with all that bulling and people wanting be to be the top. With or without them the Earth keeps spinning .”

 “Did you just discriminate flat earth people!?” he gasped cartoonish “Y/N, i didn’t know you were this type of person.”

“Yah! You really out here trying to cancel your best friend, Min Yoongi!” 

“You don’t need me to do that, you already do it yourself with the stuff you say.”

“Says you, loser.” your words made him lean onto his elbow next to you, eyes focused on your face as the colors of the sky began fading over your bodies and skin 

“I like that word, loser.” he said “It sounds rude, but at the same time no one calls you that if you aren’t different. Different means unique, special. Who tf would want to be the same as others?”

“That was us too stupid, back then.” Yoongi pocked your cheek a couple of times gently 

“Yeah, but it’s not back then anymore Y/N. It’s now. We grew up. With our jaw and fist clenched we fought and made it here. They shot at us, they threw rocks and called us cowards, weirdos. But we made it through the darkness. After all that we are and will forever be bulletproof.” the sudden rustle of the grass under you two signaled him getting up and spinning, hands to the side. His head leaned back and he looked so happy. Yoongi’s eyes were closed, he could fall and not even notice, but he wasn’t afraid no more. Whatever happens will happen. 

“You make us sound hella dope man. I love it.”

“Anxiety, social issues, any kind of mental problems and disorders. They level us up, as long as we try. At the end of the day you lose something to win something.”

“The end of the chapter is the beginning of the next.” you began to notice he was starting to lose balance from all that spinning around “Hey stupid, you will fall and hurt yourself like th-” you couldn’t even finish the sentence when his legs tangled up and he fell onto you “You ok?!That was such a stupid move! Open your eyes next time!”

“Why?” he became serious, his eyes looking into yours. Yoongi crooked his head to the side,as his fingers caressed your cheek “If I was looking I would have been too afraid to fall. At the end of it all i ended up failing and found a little angel. See? Win win to me. You can’t always see where you are going, but you gotta believe that good things are on the other side.”

“You are bleeding, that is what is on this side.”

“I am WHAT!” his forehead was a bit scratched “Damn it! My handsome face!”

“Oh come on! Wait till I glow up like that! I will get the best looking SO out there.” the child in you was pouting at Yoongi

“You know damn well we are too messed up for a relationship with others. We try and try, get used and then we either lose interest, or fall completely out of love for months. By the way...” his fingers found your cheek again, but this time it wasn’t a gentle poke but a sharp pinch. Your hands flew in the direction of his arm to try and make him let go of you. “Who told you you don’t look good?”

“Ow ow Yoongi! Let me go!!!”

“Not until you tell me who said all that crap to you!?” prying yourself from his grip you continued rubbing the now red and warm spot

“People i liked or others in general. You know how shit goes.” 

“You for real need to get your eyes checked! People stare at you when you walk by cus you look TOO good.” his words were like a low growl of a jealous pet

“Nah man, they are either judging me or they want to fight me. There is no middle ground here.” 

“You really!” with all the power in his hand he flicked your forehead 

“Stop inflicting me wounds!”

“Then stop talking shit about yourself! I swear your bodydismorphia needs to join Jimin when he has talk sessions about his day with Hoseok.Plus, people do stare at you when you walk in town in the attracted way. On our way here at least 5 people turned back and continued looking.”

“Ew creepy!” you said “Why do you count them!”

“You little!!!Come here!” your neck found itself in a chokehold in a matter of seconds 

“HYUNG!”Jungkook’s voice echoed through the park reaching your direction “Y/N AND YOONGI ARE BEING THE DEPRESSED AND FLIRTY AGAIN!”

 “This kid I swear I will kill him some time soon!” you hissed at Jungkook

“You two really can’t drop this habit.” the slow and calm footsteps pulled your attention and soon subsided your anger 

“Joon, you know how we are.” you added, leaning back onto you elbows 

“I know, we are all like that.” Joon looked at you two sitting on the ground

“Y/N is right, broken pieces do find each other.” Yoongi added, but Joon sighed and rubbed the back of his head. He squatted down eye level 

“Broken pieces find each other because they fit together and make a beautiful new bottle that they can fill up with happy memories. Our sad and hard pasts make us titanium that can’t be broken. Even if one of us cracks, we are all going to help him become stronger.” he reached his hand out, standing up “ You are not alone Y/N, we are going to be forever titanium. You have us and we have you now. We are not lonely or misérables with you.”

“WE ARE BULLETPROOF GUYS!” Jungkook yelled out again

“Yeah...we are.” with a smile shining brighter than ever ,you grabbed Joon’s hand.He pulled you up as you were holding onto Yoongi. When the chain starts no one can cut the bond. We pull each other up...is what you realized. 

“Oh and.”

“Yes Joons?” 

“Can you two date already or at least go out on a date. It hurts looking at yall like this.”

“What!?” the blanket in your hand turned into weapon as you began hitting him with it in a moment of panic. His words hit a nerve.Yoongi wasn’t the one to rush or to run. With his hands in his pockets he followed you down the hill. His footsteps stopped for a moment to look at the now dark sky. 

 We may not be able to see the stars during the day, but at night they are too many to even count. Nothing is truly hidden forever, even who you are meant to be. It’s ok not to know now or later. When we are young we dont really know. We try to fit in a mold that was created, but we can’t, we just can’t no matter how much we try.

 We end up being labeled by the things we are different. Some come from a darker past, others don’t. Yet everyone is important, the way they feel, their emotions and inner state. If I could, I would grab your hand and show you a bit of the future. Think of this, your future self, the one that did it all finally and continues to dream big, is looking at you through memories. They grab your hand and push you forward towards the good. The tunnel may be dark, cold, lonesome and scary but it always leads to something. Just don’t give up.

  Regret, unsuccessful love, residual feelings for someone who used you. They are all a stepping stone, don’t look at them. Now you know what not to do, EXP( experience points)  come in many forms honey. Be who you want to be, life is yours. Be the main character in your story, not anyone else’s. Even if you fall sometimes, show everyone how amazing you are by standing up. Baby steps turn into miles, whispers become yelling, crawling becomes flying. Breaking the mold becomes you. 

[enchanted-prose]

#10 Renegade Niece

i’m treating myself because I liked writing this and I wrote an impossibly long essay :,)

Word count: 5,294

Characters: Roden, Jaron, Ayvar (Original character), Jamie Todd (Original character), Merry (Original character), Nila

Notes: Edited and my goodness I just loved writing this. Also I forgot to put in lines for the last two submissions and I’m so sorry. There is one important vibe that I’m going to discuss; consider how it feels when your pet begins chewing something they’re no supposed to, and when you tell them to stop, they start chewing faster leaving you no choice but to run at them.

Sleep wasn’t something that Roden excelled at. He fell asleep whenever and wherever he did.

And it just so happened that this time, he’d fallen asleep with his head on his desk.

“Rise and shine!” Bellowed an all too familiar voice, successfully bringing a wave of sound into the once silent office.

Startled, Roden lurched backwards, his chair tipping dangerously backwards until it hit the floor, taking him with it. He shut his eyes. “Good morning Jaron.”

“There’s business to discuss, we can’t have you sleeping.”

“I know, Jaron, I know. Give me a moment, I already have a list of things I need to do.”

Although Jaron was standing at the opposite end of the room, Roden could sense his smug grin. Jaron cleared his throat. “I only wake you this early because I have to ask a favor.”

“And that is?” Roden asked, sincerely hoping it had nothing to do with waxing the hair off of his legs. Jaron had proposed that once, and every member of the king’s circle learned the importance of keeping Jaron occupied with trivial matters in addition to his political duties.

Late morning light glowed all around the room. Roden blinked several times as his head began to plant itself in the waking world. Jaron was dressed in his usual plain clothing, lucky him.

Roden wanted to scrub his teeth clean.

He hated it when he slept in his office.

“I, ah, told Mott to take it easy today because of the events from two nights ago. He has a few reports that need to be looked over and signed.”

“How many reports are there?”

It didn’t actually matter, Roden had every intention of doing them anyways

Jaron scoffed, “I don’t know the answer to that.”

“And when do they need to be finished?”

“Tonight, if possible.”

Roden groaned, and dragged himself to his feet, pulling a piece of paper from his forehead. “Alright, consider them done. But I won’t be able to spar today, Jaron, I have too many things to do.”

“It’s not a problem,” Jaron scratched the back of his head. He looked tired. “Feall is convinced that we have a vital playing piece in our custody, the girl who was captured the night he was attacked.”

The details from that night were still fresh in Roden’s mind.

He went over them as often as he could, always trying to find connections. The girl who’d been taken into custody, a member of the Faola, was somebody Roden had met before. She’d been in the Vaults one night when Roden was on patrol, and allegedly she was assisting another member of her gang in saving a trio of children from a horrific fate.

She’d told him her name: Ayvar.

Ayvar with scarlet hair who bent the rules to help other people.

It was hard to believe that somebody who would brave the Vaults would be driven to cut the head off of another human being.

There was something not quite right about the situation.

“I can see smoke coming out of your ears, are you thinking?”

“Shut up, Jaron.”

“Definitely thinking. Be careful, it’s dangerous.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Roden pinched the bridge of his nose for a split second. “Have you received any information about Queen Danika’s representatives?”

Hesitation visibly weighed on Jaron’s every move. He finally nodded. “They’ve been combing through nearby towns, and will be here tomorrow. I suspect that they will want to interview the girl who attacked Feall.”

“I told Amarinda she was allowed to visit Ayvar if she wanted, I think she’d have more progress than a group of investigators.”

“Good move, is it wrong to say I’m curious about the results?”

“So long as nobody is hurt in the process, I think it’s fine to want to know how it all ends,” Roden gestured to the door. “I’m going to check on her if you’d like to come with me.”

“Amarinda? I don’t think she’d like to be-”

“Ayvar, I meant. I’d be responsible if something happened to her.”

Jaron stepped out of Roden’s office, and combed his hand through his unruly hair. “You think she’s innocent?”

“I try to believe everyone isn’t as bad as everyone says until it can be proven true,” Roden shrugged. He rubbed his eyes.

The dungeons in the castle were odd, particularly because they provided a decent amount of space in each cell. Roden had seen all too many dungeons crafted out of caves and tunnels only big enough for a child. The scent of moldy food was a smell Roden would never come to appreciate. Jaron laughed at him when he stepped away from the mangy guard dog.

There was no telling what would happen if the mongrel bit him.

Roden tried not to think about how he’d die, but he certainly didn’t want his cause of death to be because of a nasty, dirty mutt.

Ayvar had been placed in the last cell. She’d braided her flaming hair around her head, likely to keep it out of the dirt. When Roden and Jaron approached, she sat straight up, her hands cradling her knees to her chest.

“Everything been alright?” Roden asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I suppose,” Ayvar frowned. “I’d rather not be here.”

“I’d rather that you didn’t attack my friends.” Jaron’s biting tone caused her to flinch.

“You don’t really think I was stupid enough to do that, right?”

“I’ve seen plenty of people doing stupid things.”

Roden nodded in agreement. Just the other day, he’d watched Merry shove herself into a barrel and roll off of a bridge into the Roving River. He’d also seen Jaron almost get away with sledding down the grand staircase in the throne room. However, Mott had been there to save the day.

But that unfortunately didn’t stop Jaron from trying to do it again.

Ayvar scowled, “It. Wasn’t. Me.”

“But you were there,” Roden pointed out.

“I was there because I didn’t think the plan would go through!”

“So you knew there was a plan. Who thought of it, if it wasn’t you?”

“I-,” Ayvar jumped to her feet, fire blazing in her eyes. “It’s probably a false name. Goes by all sorts of nicknames, we started calling her Patches. But the arbitrator is a woman, like me.”

“I hate false names,” Jaron mused.

“Ironic,” Roden noted.

"You have to believe me when I say that I wasn't responsible," Ayvar's voice was rising. "I don't care what anyone else says, it wasn't my fault!"

Her voice echoed through the dungeon, and received a bark of disapproval from the guard hound.

Jaron inhaled, "If what you say is true, then we'll release you, I can promise you that."

"It is true and I'll prove it. If Harlowe won't listen to me, then I'll go to Feall. He and I fought our patched enemy together."

"I do recall you saying your patched enemy was actually your friend, at one point," Roden noted. He was still getting used to having a surname to claim.

"That's not true anymore, otherwise I  wouldn't have been left in here."

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want your pity."

"Then you won't get our company either," Jaron shot back as he walked away from Ayvar's cell.

Roden stared at Ayvar, but left before she could throw any words at him. She went back to sitting in the corner, and said nothing as footsteps rang through the quiet dungeon.

A courtier was waiting for them halfway down the steps, and promptly dragged Jaron away to attend a meeting with King Oberson. Roden seized his chance to return to his chambers and scrub his teeth and face.

He'd almost managed to shave when he heard the clatter of stones from the courtyard.

Through his window, Roden could see a group of pock marked boys, their sizes varying, but their intentions the same: Torment Ayvar by throwing insults and rocks into her cell.

Abandoning the razor, Roden left his chambers, tugged a doublet over his head, and prepared himself for shooing away a gaggle of bored brats.

Too much had happened during the past few weeks. The stone-throwing boys were added to Roden's long long list of things that annoyed him.

One of the boys stood out from the rest, Jamie Todd. He'd thrown the first stone. Roden recognized him. Jamie was among the boys who were desperately hoping to somehow gain a knighthood. Hoping to mean something more.

That wouldn't happen so long as he was throwing stones at a girl in a cell.

Was having a little bit of peace in the courtyard too much to ask?

A loud whoop erupted from the boys, one of the stones had probably found its mark. Jamie waved his arms above his head as he did an odd victory dance. They'd been clever enough to draft up a little song:

When Daftie Ayvie passed away,

Whadya think they done?

Chopped her up a fishin’ bait:

Copper for a ton!

Devils have the guards on patrol who let the stones be-

A newcomer had joined the group. A girl. A head shorter than half of the boys. Much shorter than Jamie Todd, who was almost the size of Mott.

Mangled hair, holes in her chemise's shoulders. Merry had come to pick a bone.

"Fe-fi-fo fum!" Merry jabbed her finger at Jamie. "I smell the stink of a big boy's bum!"

"Hey!" Jamie cried, all of his attention glued to Merry.

Roden should have seen it coming.

Merry jabbed her elbow into Jamie's stomach, and down, down, down he went. The other boys scrambled away as Merry grabbed Jamie by the ears.

"She's going to tear them clean off!"

"Get some help!"

"My ears! Don't! You'll rip them-!

"Can't help it! Your ears are wonderfully handy!" Merry taunted. "They're like mug handles!"

Roden dashed across the courtyard as Merry slammed Jamie's head into the ground, resulting in his howls echoing across the courtyard. She triumphantly demanded an apology for throwing stones at Ayvar, but none came.

"Somebody help me!" Jamie bellowed, moments before Merry cracked her head against his.

"See the lovely stars, Jamie!"

"She's kilt me!"

"You're going to wish you'd been kilt you mangy, slimy, son of a-!"

In Merry's hubris, she'd forgotten about pinning down Jamie's hands. He swung his fist into the side of her head. Although she wobbled, she didn't topple over.

"I see a bit of brains dribbling-!" Smack! "-out of your ear!"

"Get off of me! Help! She's kilt me!"

"Pity your mother didn't cook you longer," Merry snipped, prepping to bash Jamie's head into the cobblestones again.

Roden finally managed to wedge his arms between Merry and Jamie, while Lieutenant Alistair picked up Merry by the waist, and dragged her off of Jamie. Roden nodded his thanks as Merry cursed and kicked and Jaimie wept as he covered his ears. He was convinced that his brain was bleeding out from his nose.

"I'll take care of the kids," Roden noted, motioning to the large fountain in the middle of the courtyard.

"Yes sir!" Alistair boomed as he somehow managed to keep Merry from escaping to beat the other boys as well.

"Stand up," said Roden as he let go of Jaimie. He then instructed him to follow his finger as he moved it back and forth in front of Jamie's eyes.

He wasn't sure how rattled Jamie's  brains were.

"I'm kilt," he wailed. "I'm a member of the undead. I’ll never be a knight now!"

"Not quite, but I hope you've learned something."

"I learned that I hate girls!"

"You'll have a lonely life then, I suppose. Don't throw stones at people worse off than you Jamie, it's not what a knight would do."

Jamie wiped his nose, which had finally stopped bleeding. "I'm- I'm sorry we were- we were just bored."

"Don't apologize to me. You have my permission to be inspected by the castle physician. I'll have my lieutenant escort you."

If he hadn't just been smacked around, Roden was certain Jamie would've fallen to his knees with gratitude. Speaking to the captain of the guard and being around Sir Alistair Derforgall in one day? It was any aspiring soldier's dream.

Roden had been in those shoes once. Idolizing Carthya's heroes.

But you couldn't be a hero and throw stones at prisoners in cells.

Alistair had seated Merry on the edge of the fountain. She crossed her arms. “I’m too angry to give a genuine apology right now, but I do feel bad, so I’m sorry. Give me a few hours before I have to say it to Jamie. I don’t like giving empty apologies.”

“Weren’t you just telling me about being safe while throwing a punch?” Roden asked.

“That’s because I’d- gah, don’t remind me.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the Dragon’s Keep?”

“Ayvar is my friend, I came to check on her,” Merry shrugged. “Dawn gave me twenty minutes, but I’ve used up that time in, ah, not very smart ways. Did you forget to shave?”

Roden held completely still as Merry trailed both of her fingers across his stubbled face. “I was in a hurry.”

“I kind of like it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I just like you, shaved or unshaved.”

“You’re a grisly sight. Best mop you up before you return,” he grinned. Roden then pointed to his left eyebrow, where a long, thin scar started just above his eyebrow and dipped down to the top of his cheekbone. “I’ve had a few head wounds myself.”

A smile tugged at Merry’s mouth, and she visibly tried to fight it with a frown. “I suppose we’ll match.”

“We’ll have to see.”

“There’s no point to life if I don’t have a scar that makes people wonder if I’m secretly a pirate.”

“Are you secretly a pirate?” Roden pulled a spare handkerchief from his doublet pocket, “I suppose it’s my turn to clean you up, would you prefer your own spit or fountain water?”

“I’d prefer your spit, actually.”

“I’m going to pretend like you didn’t say that.”

“Because it makes you uncomfortable?”

“Quite the contrary, I think there’s a better way to exchange spit than-,” Roden cleared his throat. “I take that back. It does make me uncomfortable.”

It seemed that Merry was uncomfortable too. Her face had gone redder than the blood dripping from the cut on her forehead. “I’ll take water. It’s, ah, really warm.”

She was right, the summer morning sun was beating down on the two of them. Roden cupped the unbloodied side of her face as gingerly as he could. He wet the cloth, knelt on the ground in front of her, and forced himself not to grin as he began wiping the blood off of her forehead.

The frown faltered.

“So,” Merry said.

It wasn’t exactly a question, it was more of an invitation. There was no obligation for Roden to say anything if he wanted to. He was allowed to speak about anything that he chose to do. He could talk about the situation with Ayvar. He could talk about how his niece, Nila, wanted to have a picnic for her tenth birthday and that he didn’t know what to get her. He could talk about how he’d begun to see his childhood friend’s death in his dreams.

How he feared that there was something hiding in plain sight.

Something awful.

She was giving him a choice.

And that made him want to tell her everything.

“I have extra reports I need to file tonight,” Roden said as he wet a new portion of his handkerchief. “But I’ve spent too much time in my office. Makes me lonely.”

“Don’t your friends pay attention to you?” Merry arched her unbloodied eyebrow.

He shrugged, “From time to time. They don’t tell me colorful stories about fish hitting my face.”

That made her smile.

“By the way, I never thanked you for the coin you gave me. Where’s it from? I don’t recognize the design.”

“It’s from my home, but it’s not accepted here. Figured I’d give you a trinket. Have you considered getting a pet mountain cat to keep you company?”

“Unfortunately, the royal mountain cat keeper is fresh out of them.”

Merry’s eyes drifted shut, and Roden did his best not to think of the way her body relaxed as he continued supporting her. “Why not come to the Dragon’s Keep? It’s the slowest day of the week, I can help you. I can even promise extra lemon cream tarts.”

“Would I have to share?”

“With me, of course.”

“Promises you’ll make sure it’s a fair share?”

Merry pressed a bruised hand to her heart, “I never lie, Captain Harlowe.”

He hoped she didn’t see his ears beginning to burn. Roden managed to clear away the drying blood on Merry’s face, and ordered the nearest page to get strips of gauze. “I, ah, I’m going to make sure the wound doesn’t bleed through. Is that alright?”

“I only ask that you make me look as much like a plague victim as possible,” Merry was fiddling with her hands.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

To his surprise, when Roden drew away from Merry’s face, she pressed his hand back into place. “No wait, I’m hoping I can siphon away your extreme battle abilities.”

“Not quite sure how true that is.”

“I told you before, I don’t lie.”

“Not quite sure how true that is either.”

Once again, her face flushed bright red. Merry shoved his hand away, “Thanks, ah, uh, thanks for helping me.”

“It’s only fair.” Roden scratched the back of his neck.The page returned with a small roll of gauze. Roden began setting strips of it on the horizontal gash on Merry’s forehead. “You should probably come up with a story about why you look like a plague victim.”

“I’m thinking that I had three eyes at one point, but I tragically lost my third eye while hunting for a golden potato.”

“Not quite what I was expecting, but I’ll take it. Is there more to it?”

“Do you like hearing me talk, Captain?”

“I’ve told you it’s alright to call me by my name,” Roden said, deftly avoiding her question.

She patted the side of his face, “Captain, my friend, at one point I had a third eye, and it helped me see into the ground. I could find all sorts of buried treasure, making me the most valued person in the Eranbole sea. . .”

Words of third eyes and buried treasure fell short on Roden’s ears. As Merry continued weaving her grand story about pirates and sea monsters, his gaze fell on a curious mark on her bare shoulder.

A jagged scar.

As he finished setting the last piece of gauze on Merry’s cut, he found himself brushing his thumb over the scar, wondering where it came from.

Scars carried stories, whether good or bad.

What had Merry done to get a scar on her shoulder? There were others near it, many of them were hiding underneath her printed chemise. Marks of the past. All pale and pink against her skin.

Merry went completely silent, and Roden flinched once he realized what he’d done.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Devils have him. Roden looked right at Merry’s crimson face, stared right at those mausoleum grey eyes.

Don’t be the first to look away, don’t be the first to look away-

Suddenly the cobblestones became very interesting.

“I, ah, I’m-,” she stuttered, both of her hands going to tug on her earlobes.

Roden all but jumped to his feet, “I have to go now.”

“I don’t think so, I’m not quite finished with our conversation.”

Roden rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to be away from his mistake.

But he couldn’t bring himself to walk away.

“Treat me like a princess, Roden, please,” Merry said, bouncing back from the awkward moment. She held out her hand, palm down, expectant.

A series of scars were visible on her third and fourth fingers, just below the nails. Roden forced himself not to look too long, and took Merry by the hand, “My apologies, lady.”

In a grand motion, Merry waved her hand across the open air, “No apologies are needed sir knight. You’ll find I am quite spotted all over, and not from freckles.”

“I’m really sorry if-,” He began, but Merry was one step ahead of him.

“No, no, don’t be sorry, it’s really alright. I got that scar as a child. My favorite method of travel was jumping rock to rock, and I missed my target once.”

“I’m sure all toads everywhere envied your skill.”

“Oh they did, trust me, they did. I’d ah, I’d tell you more . . But you’ll have to forgive me for leaving so soon, Dawn’s going to have my head if I’m late.”

He didn’t want to admit that he didn’t like watching her leave. 

----------------------------------------------

Nila sat on his desk, swinging her legs. Her long golden hair had been pinned on her head, and yet despite the obvious effort that had been put into it, several strands had managed to escape. Dirt stains pooled at her elbows.

She was doing a wondrous job holding a stack of papers for Roden.

“I found a cool feather today, but I dropped it in the river,” Nila mused, a slight frown appearing on her rosy face. “It had stripes.”

“A striped feather, you say?” Roden made a face.

“Black and white, I thought it would look cool as a mast for a stick ship, but I got so excited about it, I dropped it.”

“Then I’ll have to help you find another one.”

Nila tapped her boot heel against the desk, “I’m free on every second day of the week, but only in the afternoons. I can fit you into my schedule.”

“You have a schedule now, do you?” He caught himself chuckling. “I would gladly take any available time that I can.”

Everywhere, there were reports hiding. Roden managed to gather all of Mott’s reports, but unfortunately, had managed to lose track of half of his own. He pawed through every drawer he could, every shelf and cabinet.

If it weren’t for Nila keeping track of what had been found and what hadn’t, he would’ve wasted much more time.

How could he let himself get so disorganized?

Roden ran his hands through his hair, “I think that’s all we’re going to find.”

“I can take a turn looking,” Nila offered. She grinned, a pair of dimples making their appearance. “You’ve obviously got something else on your mind.”

“I don’t- I, ah, everything’s under control.”

Although everything didn’t really feel like it was under control. Roden once again ran his hands through his hair, thinking of anything he might’ve missed. Several hours had passed since he’d last seen Merry. It wouldn’t be long before sunset.

“Are you meeting somebody?” Asked Nila, her boot beating out a new rhythm. “Are you going on patrol again?”

“No, no,” Roden said, walking from his desk to the door. “I mean, yes, I’m going to be with a friend of mine. No patrolling for me though, that’s tomorrow night.”

“That’s interesting. Much more interesting than my evening, anyway.”

“I thought you had a busy schedule, sounds pretty exciting to me.”

“Being busy doesn’t mean I’m having fun. Where are you going?”

“Sounds like you’re planning on trying to come with me. . .”

Nila frowned as deeply as she could. “I’m just asking!”

As he paced back and forth, Roden smiled. He was walking to the beat of Nila’s boot hitting the desk. That drew a grin out of her once he mentioned it to her.

He loved being with Nila. She was charming and bursting with life, and made his day a little bit brighter. In time, he saw her as more of a little sister than a niece.

There were many things Roden would always regret.

Things like never knowing his dead brother; Nila’s father.

Too many opportunities had been lost, and Roden was determined not to lose any more precious moments. He’d been cheated out of years and years of memories.

It was time to make new ones.

But he wasn’t sure if taking a ten year old girl to a tavern was one of them.

“Please, please, please, please, please take me with you,” Nila begged. “I don’t want to have to take tea with Lady Orlaine’s whatever they are.”

“Lady Orlaine’s wards?” Roden offered.

“Yes! Them! They’re mean to me, dreadfully boring too. I call them the Greys. Because they make everything grey around them, get it?”

Roden took the numerous papers from Nila and shoved them into a satchel. He’d have to depend on Merry for ink, he didn’t trust himself not to spill any as he walked across Drylliad.

He wouldn’t be able to know if the Dragon’s Keep was truly empty until he got there, and he’d rather not risk taking Nila to a place not quite appropriate for a child.

She took the rejection well, however, Roden wished he’d been able to bring her with him.

The regret was even worse the moment Roden stepped into the Dragon's Keep, only to find that it was as empty as Merry claimed it was.

Aside from the old man strumming a lute in the corner, the only sound was a ghost of a conversation from the back.

Dawn was behind the counter, her grey streaked hair piled into a bun on top of her head.

Another barmaid was sitting in the corner beside a young man. No sign of Merry.

"Captain! It's nice to see you!" Dawn called, waving her cloth in greeting.

"It's nice to be here," Roden countered with a smile.

She turned around, and retrieved a large tankard, "Are you looking for a drink?"

"Oh! No, no, I'm looking for a person, actually. It's Merry, actually, she wanted to talk."

"I'm sure she did, I'm sure she did. Merry! It's rude to keep a guest waiting!"

The conversation grew louder, louder, louder, until finally, Merry came strutting out. She’d changed her chemise, this one was green and hid her scarred shoulder. A patterned scarf rested neatly over her hair and behind her ears.

She pointed at the mass of gauze on her head, “Still in one piece!”

“I’m not surprised, you can hold your own,” Roden grinned. Now comfortable, he set his paper filled satchel on the wooden countertop, and perched on a tall stool.

“You should see her fight a door, it’s quite frightening,” teased Dawn.

“They are the bane of my existence.” Merry stared hard at the front door, and shook her fist at it before bursting into a series of snickers.

“A truly noble quest.”

Merry snatched a used tankard, and began scrubbing at the insides. Her smile faltered, “How’s Jamie Todd?”

“He’s alright, just a little concerned that he was caught throwing stones at a person.”

“Good, that’s good. You sure he’s fine?”

“Saw him myself a few hours ago,” Roden said. He retrieved a few reports, and set them on the counter. “Do you have-?”

“Ink? Right here,” Merry reached below the counter. “And we have a variety of writing tools to choose from too.”

“Don’t use the quill!” Dawn ordered from the other end of the bar. The door opened and closed. “Take care of that guest!”

The glass Merry had been scrubbing at clinked against the counter. Her brows screwed together, “I’ll take care of it.”

“What are you-,” Roden began, but Merry snapped her fingers near his face. He brushed her hands away, “I know, I know, I need to get my work done.”

“I’ll check back in on you in a moment, have that other guest to see,” Merry leaned over the bar, and smoothed her hand over Roden’s head.

He glared at the first report waiting to be finished. Check the details. Signature here, signature there. Next report. Check the details. Signature here, signature there, and so on and so forth. He caught a few snippets from Merry’s conversation with the new guest.

Something about lemon cream tarts.

Saints, he really wanted one of-

No! He had to do a report first!

Report first, tart later!

Merry set a hand on his shoulder, “Your handwriting.”

“I know, I know, it’s messy,” Roden shrugged.

“I was going to say that I like it, sir knight.”

Oh.

She disappeared behind the bar, reappearing moments later with a lemon cream tart in each hand. Roden received his first, much to his delight, and technically, he did manage to finish two reports.

He deserved a tart.

“-I completely understand! Court life is horrifically boring,” Merry said, her voice barely audible above the lute strings.

“I’m glad somebody gets it!” Chirped the guest, their voice oddly familiar.

But not familiar enough to draw his attention away from his blasted reports.

The lemon cream tart made it easier to bear.

Snippets of the conversation still drifted into Roden’s atmosphere. Merry laughed, “And is there anything else I can get you?”

“No thank you, but I do appreciate that you asked me,” came the reply.

And then Merry’s hand was back on his shoulder, asking him if there was anything she could do to help. Unless she was good at forgery, there wasn’t much she could do.

Roden scribbled through report after report, firmly aware that Merry was watching his every move.

He managed to finish the tart just as he finished his first pile of reports.

“And onto the next one,” Roden mumbled.

“Ah, ah, ah, take a tiny break, Captain,” Merry chided. She set her hands on Roden’s, “One stack is worth a victory celebration.”

“Do I get another tart?”

“Possibly, unless you’d prefer a pie.”

Pies were good, when baked properly.

Merry’s hands were cool on his palms.

Cool on his battle torn hands.

They fit too well in his own. A little too nicely. It was impossible to timidly turn his palms up, impossible not to hold Merry’s rough fingers.

He supposed he preferred that to a tart.

And a pie.

“Why are you holding hands with him?” Asked the other guest from right behind Roden.

He jumped, his eyes flying to the voice’s owner.

Only to find Nila with a little bit of lemon cream still on her top lip.

“Oh, uh, because-,” Merry stuttered, however, Roden had a better prepared retort.

“What are you doing here?”

Nila shrugged, “I was bored, so I followed you.”

“And you saw her come in, but didn’t tell me?” Roden asked, turning his attention to Merry.

She made a face, and clasped her hands behind her back. “I only did what I was told.”

“I wanted to surprise you, mostly so I could prove that it’s perfectly acceptable for me to go with you to things,” Nila pointed out. She clambered onto the stool beside Roden. “And I’m very helpful. I can read through your reports. All you’d have to do is sign.”

“Doesn’t mean you’d understand what’s going on,” noted Roden.

“That’s not important, all that matters is that everything is spelled correctly.”

Merry nodded, “She does have a point.”

A smile spread across his face, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t be rid of it, but he did manage to contain it to a slight smirk.

He handed a stack of papers to Nila.

Every so often, Roden glanced up to make sure Merry was still near, and watched as she cleaned tankard after tankard.

She beamed at him each time she caught him looking.

And all he could think about was the way her cool hands felt when they rested on his own.

[odd-birds-and-booksellers]

I saw you re-blog criminal minds, can you do a Jolex inspired fic about 14x15????? I'd love to see the two mashed up

Somebody to Die For

In this AU, there were six interns, and Jo and Alex were best friends from the start like Mer and Cristina or Izzie and George, additionally, Paul was an attending at the hospital that Jo met and married in season 3, everything happens the same, he was abusive and she manages to divorce him around season 5. This is set in the season 6 finale during the shooting. Derek was shot in his office and Gary Clark finds April, Alex and Jo on the walkway and decides to play one last game.

Alex could feel the sweat dripping down his back, his heart thumping as he tried to quiet his breathing crouching down on the floor, the only thing keeping him together was the feel of her hand in his. He has to keep her safe. He hasn’t looked back at her yet, but he can hear her unsteady breaths from where she hid behind him.

“What's it gonna be?” The gunman yelled, waving the gun coward towards April. He could feel Jo jump beside him, a slight whimper leaving her lips and she squeezed his hand tighter. This morning they’d been rowing about some stupid bet, they’d totally ignored the lockdown notification, thinking it was just some stupid drill and now they were trapped along the walkway, praying for some sort of miracle. He wanted to reach out, wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay but they’re under strict orders to not move if they wanna make it out alive.

“Please. I don't want to do this.” April cries, her whole body shaking as she stands before the gunman, her tears flowing fast.

“Focus, April...Truth or Dare?”. He grins, holding the gun out, pressing his finger on and off the trigger like some sort of sick sadistic game. A grin appearing on his face as April screams, her eyes squeezing shut as she waits for a shot that never comes.

“Please.” She whimpers, holding her hands out as if they offered any protection.

The guy laughs, throwing his head back, mimicking April’s cowering form. “Doc, you got to decide. That's what you do, right? Decide life or death with a flick of your wrist.”

Suddenly Alex feels Jo’s hand loosen in his, and like a shot she passes him, her form a blur, grabbing the attention of the gunman. Alex tries to call out for her but his throat is dry. It's too late.

“Um, if April won't play, I will.” Jo trembles holding her hands up as the gunman spins around to face her, his fingering hovering over the trigger.  “Truth or dare. That's your game, right?” She whispers, her eyes flicking to April who had crumbled into a heap on the floor, sobs wracking her body as she went. “I'll play.”

The gunman seems to consider her offer, pacing around looking between Jo and April sizing up his best chance at the game while Alex remains frozen on the floor, his feet glued down as he watches Jo, knowing at any second everything that matters to him could be gone.

“Ok. Doctor…”

“Wilson.” Jo gulps, her hands still raised as she hesitantly steps closer to him.

He raises his eyebrows at Jo, a sickly smiley appearing on his face. “Doctor Wilson. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Jo answers instantly.

Slowly the gunman makes his way to where Jo is standing, circling her slowly. Jo can feel the heat of his breath against her neck as he talks.  “If I think you're lying or stretching the truth in the slightest, I'll kill him.” He mutters raising his gun towards Alex, making Jo flinch as she glances over at him, her heart speeding up as her eyes meet Alex's.

Biting her lip, she slowly nods, trying to express how sorry she is to Alex with just a glance.

“Have you ever had a patient die before?”

“Yes, I have.” Jo grimaces, the colour drawing from her face as he circles her again.

“Was it your fault?” He mutters, coming around to stand before Jo, pocking her breast bone with the barrel of the gun, making Jo shiver.

“No.”

“Liar!” A gunshot rings out across the walkway, making April scream, Alex is up instantly heading towards Jo when the gunman turns his attention on him, another warning shot ringing out, stopping Alex in his tracks.

“No, no, no. I'm not lying. Ok, I'm not lying.” Jo screams, whipping around so she's standing directly in front of Alex holding up her hands, trying to control her rapid breathing as she stumbles over her answer. “The patients I’ve lost, I’ve made mistakes but I’ve always tried my hardest to give them the best care that’s the truth.”

Biting down on her lip, she can feel the blood beginning to seep through, as she stops herself from crying out. “Ok, you asked, and I told the truth, ok. I told you the truth. So now it's my turn. Right? That's how this game's played. We take turns. Truth or dare?”

The gunman pinches the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath as he paces back and forth. “Truth.”

“What's it gonna take for all of us to walk out of here alive, for this to end peacefully?”

“Someone to pay for my wife.” He yells, throwing his arms out, the gun smacking Jo straight in the head. She winces, squeezing her eyes shut, smelling the alcohol on his breath as he continues. “My turn. Truth or dare?”

Jo swallows, the hot tears rolling down her face, as she feels the gun press into her skin, the loud beating of her heart drowning out April’s cries and the faint sound of sirens outside. “Truth,” she whispers, letting out a sigh of relief as he lowers the gun to his side, taking a step back.

“I want you to say something you're afraid to say, something that you'd never tell anybody.” He spits, his eyes narrowing on Jo, cocking his head to the side as he analyses her, looking her body up and down in a way that makes vomit rise in Jo’s throat. “And you better make it good, 'cause if it's not, it's gonna be the last thing you ever say.”

Nodding Jo tries to focus as her vision blurs with tears while she tries to wrack her brain for something, anything that will get them out of this.

“So what's it gonna be?”

“There are only three people I trust in this world...”

“Boring.” He snaps, a gunshot flying by Jo’s ear, making Jo bite down hard on her lip again to stop herself from screaming, desperately trying to calm her breathing enough to talk, “Next!”

Jo whimpers, feeling completely hopeless as more tears burn her cheeks “When I was married before I was pregnant and I..”

“Boring.”

"No..No" Jo winces, bracing herself for another shot when she feels a warm hand against her back.

“Jo.” His voice sends tingles down her spine, offering her the tiniest moment of safety and hope.

Alex, her stupid fool of a best friend is now standing next to her.

“Shut up!” The gunman screams, coming forward he grabs Jo by her hair, ignoring the way she screams out in pain, as she claws at his hands, leaving Alex standing there powerless as he points the gun towards him. “Ok, ok, ok. Last chance. Something you would never say aloud, not even to your boy here. Your deepest, darkest secret. Impress me or I kill him. Come on!” He yells as Jo's knees buckle underneath her, falling to the floor, another shot of pain rippling through her as he holds her head up.

“Alex, um... Um... I've always loved you.” She whispers, looking up from her place on the floor, her eyes finding his, he's crying, his eyes red from the salty tears, his fists clenched tightly as he stares back at her. “And I was just too scared to say it before. And now things are just really too complicated to say it now. I'm sorry. But you should know.”

Jo can’t bear to look away as she shares her secret, watching the shock register in Alex’s eyes. She’d imagined this moment so many times, she should’ve told him intern year but she was too scared and then he’d been so mad at her for dating Paul and it had taken so long to rebuild their friendship that by the time they had got to place where she could tell him, he was marrying someone else, he was marrying Izzie, what could she do? She wasn't about to storm his wedding...not after she’d sat in the back of the church and listened to his vows.

“Hot damn.” The gunman chuckles, releasing Jo’s hair, bending down in front of her. “That's what I'm talking about. Now those are some last words right there. But not good enough to save your life.” He grins, lifting the gun up to her forehead.

It happens in a flash, a loud gunshot ringing across the walkway, Aprils screams echoing around as blood splattered across the floor…

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Next entry for @badthingshappenbingo!

I AM NO LONGER ACCEPTING PROMPTS! The single-bone marks on the card indicate which prompts I have received and am going to write, and I finally have prompts that will earn me a bingo once they’ve been posted (but they’re not posted yet)!

This fic has also been posted to FFN and AO3, so you can check it out on my Assortment of Broken Bones collection on there if you like!

This prompt came from @tomato-bitch! She had a more specific scenario in mind for this prompt...

Prompt: Mugging Characters: Héctor and Chicharrón, pre-movie

---~~~---

The night was cool, but not chilly, the air crisp and refreshing in his... well, where his lungs would have been. The sky was clear, the stars were bright, and the moon was full—it would have been a perfect night to sit outside, either on the rooftops or around a fire, and talk with his nearly-forgotten family.

But Héctor was far from Shantytown tonight.

He wished he weren't. He would rather be anywhere but here, doing anything other than what he was about to do.

Drawing in a breath, he cringed, bringing his hands to his cervical vertebrae, still tender from a few days ago.

"You think you can just waltz in here, take our stuff?"

"I'm sorry, señor, really—I'll be on my way and never bother you agai—"

"Oh, no, you're staying right here."

He swallowed down the pain in his throat. His voice was still rough—it was part of the reason he hadn't spoken to anyone in Shantytown for a few days. A small part of the reason, anyway.

"What do you guys think? That left femur of yours would fetch a nice price on the market, eh?"

"What—no, no, por favor, don't! I-I promise I won't come back, I won't say anything—"

"But you want this, right? You took a pretty gutsy risk coming here to try to swipe it."

"I-I..."

"How about this. You do us a favor, and we'll consider not pawning off your unbroken bones. And maybe throw this in as well."

"I... sí, okay, I'll do whatever you want!"

Whatever they wanted... He pinched the bridge of his nose, reminding himself not to use that phrase again.

"Wait, wait, no, that's... I-I don't have..."

"If you don't have that kind of money on you, we have no problem exchanging your bones for it."

"...How long will you give me?"

"Get back to us in three days. Right here, the morning following the third night."

"Thr—you can't be—?!"

"If we don't get it then, we'll track you down. Don't think you can hide, amigo. We have ways of finding you. So do we have a deal or not?"

"...Sí."

"Good."

It was not the kind of money that he could make running errands. It was not the kind of money he could make on odd jobs, or even pawning off every item in his possession. He'd tried, even—sold his good pens, the only chair in his shack, even the blanket he used to keep himself warm at night. He spent a day running every errand Ceci threw at him. (She'd asked him what he was trying to save up for this time, what the plan this year was, what happened to his throat. He couldn't give her a straight answer.) The money he'd saved up had straight-up not been enough.

It was the night of the third day, and the money was due tomorrow morning.

Héctor had no other choice.

...At least, that's what he told himself. The police were still an option. They weren't exactly on good terms with him, and he wouldn't exactly be in the clear himself given he'd been the one trying to steal in the first place (in order to illegally cross the flower bridge), but he could inform them of the criminals who were threatening him. The police could take care of that, and... well... he'd probably be arrested, but even a week in jail was better than permanently losing half his bones to some scumbags in the underworld of the underworld.

But... if he went to the police and got himself arrested, he wouldn't be able to cross. Dia de Muertos was only in two days. Even if by some miracle they didn't arrest him, he wouldn't be able to get...

Sighing, Héctor shook his head, bringing himself back to the present. No, he had to do this. If he wanted a shot at seeing his Coco again... he had to.

He had to.

After waiting for a few more moments, he surveyed his surroundings again—the buildings were tall here, and quite old. It was still several layers above Shantytown, but old enough that very few people actually lived here these days. The Land of the Dead, normally quite bright at night, was dark here, with few working streetlamps and no lights shining through any windows. As a result, it was not the safest place to be. Héctor had learned that the hard way, and discovered the reason why it could be so unsafe.

And now... he was about to become part of the reason why it was so unsafe.

It's for Coco, he told himself, shutting his eyes. It's for her. You can just do this once, so you can see her again, and then never do it again.

He peered down the street from his spot in the shadows of the alley, looking in both directions, but it was still clear. Something within him desperately hoped that someone would be here, while another, deeper part of him begged whatever higher power existed to not let a soul cross his path. But it was either this, getting torn apart, or missing another chance at crossing the bridge.

Leaning against a cold wall, he waited in silence, listening for any sounds of movement. For the past few hours, he'd only heard the occasional stray alebrije, which soared in the distance overhead. There were no creatures here in these streets, skeletal, alebrije, or otherwise.

As he waited, his mind drifted, and he tried to picture how old Coco was now. It was hard to imagine her as anything other than the small child he'd left behind, hard to imagine anything other than her soft, young voice. But she was in her seventies now, he knew—older than Imelda had lived. He wondered what sort of family she'd made for herself—if she had children of her own, if they had their own children. He wondered if she was in good health now.

Maybe he'd get to see for himself in a couple days, if everything went right.

If it didn't... well, maybe he would be lucky enough to try again next year. He couldn't count on it, though—as much as he hated to think of his daughter in such a state, she may not be in the best health. This could very well be his last chance.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he nearly missed the sound of footsteps. Sucking in air through his teeth, he listened—yes, someone was absolutely walking down the street, coming around the corner down the block. The footfalls were hesitant, as though trying to make as little noise as possible, though occasionally they moved in short bursts of speed. It was either someone who was very scared... or a criminal.

He desperately hoped it was not the latter.

Sure enough, someone came into view—they had a slight frame, and he could just make out the skirt they wore—a woman, then? Her feet made a pock, pock, pock noise as they made contact with the ground, and her bones did not clack—at least, not loud enough for him to hear. What was a soul like this doing here?

The still night air easily carried her quiet voice:

"No... no, th-this isn't right."

Héctor froze up, backing against the wall. She definitely sounded afraid.

"I thought I saw the path was...? Maybe it was f-further down?"

She was lost.

Carefully he poked his head out again—she wouldn't see him in the shadow of the alleyway like this. She was closer now, and he could see her better—from her frame and her voice, she sounded like she'd died young, what he could see of her clothing looked nice and clean, and she carried a big purse slung over her opposite shoulder. Meanwhile, her body language radiated fear and unease.

His immediate instinct was to approach her, reassure her, tell her the correct way to go, and, if she let him (people didn't tend to trust the nearly-forgotten, after all), help guide her out of this terrible place himself. But he held himself back, swallowing down the lump in his throat and feeling it plummet down to his stomach cavity.

No, he wasn't here to help her.

It's for Coco, he told himself again, gritting his teeth as he ducked back into the alley. It's for Coco, it's for her, you have to do this.

The woman was getting closer, though a part of him prayed that she would turn around, head back the other way.

It's for Coco.

She was getting closer. He could hear her nervous breathing.

It's for Coco.

Closer now. The stars reflected off of the tears in her eyes.

It's for Coco.

He did not want to do this.

But it's for Coco.

He did not want to do this.

But if you don't do this, you'll never see her again.

She was right in front of him, and he lunged at her, aiming for the purse.

The woman's scream tore through the night, and Héctor crashed to the ground—he'd missed. Immediately she took off running, and he reformed, charging after her. "Get back here!" he called, hating how rough his voice sounded, hating what he was doing, hating every part of this. "Just—please, just give me your money!"

She didn't answer, only screaming into the night: "HELP! SOMEONE, PLEASE!"

Any other night and he would be running off to help. Was there anyone around here that would do that?

The terror of the idea struck him—what if someone else was here? What if someone came to her rescue, and attacked him? Took him to the police?

"HELP!"

He couldn't let that happen—he had to get this over with, but his broken tibia ached and his fibula was threatening to pop loose again—he wasn't going to be able to keep up with her. Let her get away, a small part of him said, but he shook the thought away—he couldn't do that, but he wasn't sure if he could catch her, either.

Whether by stroke of luck or some devil tempting him, the woman's shoes caught on an uneven cobblestone, and she stumbled and fell.

Leave her alone, the small part said, but he charged at her anyway. He tried to yank her purse away, but wound up yanking her back up to her feet. Rolling with it, he shoved her against a nearby wall. She was crying.

"Leave me alone...!" she sobbed, as he tried to tug the purse away.

"I-I... I don't want to hurt you, señorita," Héctor stammered. "Just give me—"

To his surprise, she fought back, shoving at his sternum and jostling his broken ribs. He hissed in pain, but very quickly realized a problem, as the starlight above them reflected off her shining white bones: she was a remembered skeleton, and he was not.

"Get away, get off of me!" she cried, kicking and shoving at him as he struggled to keep hold of her. Her foot struck at his bad leg, and he held back a cry of pain, but the strained noise came through his throat anyway.

Apparently encouraged by this, the woman shoved at his bad arm, and he felt the two cracked halves of it rub against each other.

He couldn't fight her—she would win.

He had to play dirty.

Pulling back the arm that she'd successfully pushed away, he swung his fist at her, swiftly connecting with her skull and knocking it off her shoulders. While she screamed again, he'd successfully stunned her enough to stop fighting. He grabbed her purse, yanked it off her shoulders, and ran.

"No, no! GET BACK HERE! HELP! SOMEONE!"

But there was no one else around, and Héctor bolted off into the night.

He wasn't sure which was heavier: the stolen purse, which he struggled to carry, or his guilty conscience, which threatened to tug his heart down to the ground.

---

Héctor did not take the purse back to Shantytown, but sought out a safe spot on the way back to the location where he was to meet the awful men who started this in the first place.

Are you sure you're not one of them, amigo? a voice within him asked, and he swallowed the lump down again.

Sorting through the purse, he found several useless objects—a book of some sort, a box of candies, a stack of letters... He set them aside for now, continuing to dig through the purse until he found what he was looking for: a wallet.

As he'd hoped, it had a fair amount of money in it—more than he would have expected someone to carry on their person, but... he wouldn't complain. Pulling a meager amount of money out of his own pouch, he put it with the stolen money and began to count.

To his dismay, it was barely not enough. Wincing, he dug through the purse again, hoping he'd missed something, and sure enough, he found a smaller wallet within. For a moment he wondered why she would carry two wallets... until he realized this one didn't carry money.

Smiling faces of living family members peered out at him—brothers, sisters, parents, grandparents, nieces, nephews.

She had a family, too.

He turned to look at the other objects he'd set aside: The book was a sketchbook. The box of candies had a sticker label on the outside with a man's name on it. The letters were all addressed to different people with the same last name, in places in the Land of the Living.

She'd died recently, he realized—possibly on the way to mail these letters. She'd died, and had gotten lost, and he'd...

No, I had to do it. It's for Coco, it's...

Another thought shoved itself to the front of his mind:

What would Coco say, if she knew you'd done this to get to her?

His breath caught in his throat, and when he finally managed to breathe, it came in short, harsh sobs.

---

Héctor felt numb as he stood before them. He no longer had the purse; he'd hidden it away, feeling like he couldn't look at it any longer without getting sick.

"Ey, wasn't expecting you to actually do it," the man said, his mouth twisting into an unpleasant grin. "You came through, amigo."

I'm not your amigo. I'm not anyone's amigo, Héctor thought, but said nothing, staring off to the side.

"We could use someone like you."

"No."

"Suit yourself. Oh... but you wanted this, right?"

Again, Héctor said nothing, but didn't resist as the man pushed a large box into his arms. He did cringe when the man slammed a hand onto his back.

"Nice working with you."

Another voice spoke up: "Uhhh... jefe?"

They turned to see one of the other men, who had been counting the money Héctor had turned over. His stomach twisted.

"He's just... barely short."

"...Huh. You're right."

Héctor took a step back, wondering if he could make a break for it. "It's... it's only a little," he said. "If you give me another day, I could—"

"Oh, no, no, we had a deal." The man stepped up to him again, the friendly air he'd had earlier now long gone. "You make up the money to us, or we'll make it up with your bones."

"It's... I... I'm nearly forgotten, my bones are barely worth—"

The man lifted Héctor's chin with his knuckle, and Héctor grit his teeth as his head was turned to one side, then another, before he forcibly yanked himself away.

"No... I think you might have something worthwhile on you."

Héctor opened his mouth to protest, just as the man's fist connected with his face.

---

It was evening on Dia de Muertos, and Héctor had his scheme ready. His jaw still ached something terrible, but he reminded himself that he'd been lucky.

One tooth was a pretty small price to pay for being able to see his daughter.

But what about—

He shut down the voice again. No, focus, he just had to finish putting his plan into action, and then he could cross the bridge, and see his Coco, and then he would never have to think about the rest of this terrible, terrible week ever again.

"Hey, that's—"

"You!"

Instantly recognizing the voices, Héctor seized up in terror—no, this couldn't be happening, the police couldn't have found him this early—

"What do you think you're doing here, Rivera?! What are you doing with that?"

With a surge of panic, Héctor bolted, leaving behind the materials he'd fought so hard to retrieve, and any hope of seeing Coco that year.

He'd failed.

---

Héctor sat on the edge of his hammock numbly, having no other seat in his shack anymore. Dia de Muertos wasn't even over, but he couldn't even enact his plan—couldn't even go anywhere near the bridge. The police were clearly on the lookout for him—perhaps someone had given them a description of him as a forewarning.

He shuddered, one arm wrapped tightly around himself while his other hand massaged his jaw.

"You're back early."

Nearly falling backwards off his hammock, he looked up in shock to see Chicharrón standing in the doorway. The old man could move quietly when he needed to. "S... sí," he stammered, fighting to get back into a seated position again. "It's... it's not a good year."

He sat back, and the hammock immediately twisted, dumping him out the other side. He groaned, but made no effort to get back up.

Chicharrón stamped closer, grasped him by the heel, and yanked him away from the hammock. "Up."

Shakily he pushed himself back up to his feet, but couldn't keep his back straight for the heavy weight in his chest. Cheech looked him up and down, frowning, and Héctor sighed. "I didn't lose another rib, if that's what you're wondering."

"Then what did you lose?"

Perceptive. Héctor grimaced, showing his teeth, and turned his head to his right, so Cheech could see the missing tooth on the left side of his bottom jaw.

With a deep hum, Chicharrón turned around, stamping his way out the door. He didn't need to speak for Héctor to know that he wanted to be followed. Not particularly feeling like wallowing alone in misery tonight, he limped out after him. He would've snatched a bottle on his way out, but he'd sold that too a few days earlier.

To his surprise, Cheech immediately turned and climbed up the ladder (actually a series of boards nailed to the side of his house), sitting up on the edge of Héctor's roof, and Héctor joined him. The shack wasn't particularly tall, but it was still a nice view regardless. The old man produced a bottle that he'd evidently been hiding in his rib cage and took a deep gulp from it before passing it to Héctor, who gladly took a drink himself.

The alcohol took some of the weight off of his heavy heart, but it didn't make it go away entirely. It was better than nothing, at least, and Héctor and Chicharrón sat in silence for some time. No questions about how he'd lost his tooth, or why the night had been so terrible (other than the obvious). Just silence.

It was comforting, for a time. But the memories and thoughts of the past week didn't fade—of his failures, of Coco, of what he'd done. The latter especially still haunted him; every time he closed his eyes, he could see the woman's terrified face and hear her voice.

The comfort was soon gone, and the silence became suffocating.

"Cheech," Héctor finally said, voice choked. "Have you ever screwed up?"

"You think I'd be here if I hadn't?" Chicharrón snapped, yanking the bottle away and taking a swig, draining the last of it. He tossed the empty glass into the water below. "...Yeah. I have."

"What... do you do?"

"What can you do?"

Héctor snorted, leaning back to look at the stars, but it was cloudy tonight. It took him a moment before he realized Cheech was staring at him, and he gave a start.

"Wasn't a rhetorical question."

Oh. Héctor rubbed his jaw again, massaging the spot where he'd been hit. He couldn't go back to those men—there was no way he could get that money back without risking them trying to steal anything else from him. They may have already spent the money on who-knows-what anyway. He thought back to the woman, but he had no idea where she was staying. Even if he did, there was no way she would want to go anywhere near him. He couldn't blame her for that; he wouldn't want to go anywhere near himself either, after that.

"Well," he started, forcing a laugh. "I could... never do that again."

"Pshaw. Everyone screws up eventually."

Héctor shuddered. "No. Not like... not like what I did."

Shrugging, Chicharrón looked out over the town. "That it, then? Nothing else you can do?"

He thought about it further... and then he remembered. "Actually... I think there is."

"Yeah? What's—"

Héctor made to climb down off the roof, forgot he'd been drinking, lost his balance, and slid down off the inclined surface and into a pile of bones on the ground.

"Hm," Cheech grunted, staying up on the roof and tipping his hat over his eyes before leaning back. "Idiota."

---

He'd hid the purse away, in the midst of some fake plants, beneath the plastic wood chips that surrounded them. It took him a while to find the exact spot, and he earned himself a few odd glances when people saw him digging around. ("I dropped something here," he would explain, which wasn't technically a lie.) After a few hours of trying different spots, he finally unearthed the purse, carefully emptying it of any plastic chips before slinging it over his shoulder.

The next part of the plan was risky, but he knew a way to make it slightly easier. He swung by Ceci's place—her apartment, rather than her studio, and nearly bumped into her as she carried a basket of offerings to her door.

"Héctor?!" she cried, scrambling to keep a hold of the basket. "What are—ugh, I don't want to deal with your schemes tonight—"

"I—I know, Ceci, but please...!"

"I actually have the night off tonight, and for once—"

"I know Ceci, but I just—"

"Why are you wearing a purse anyway?"

"Ceci, por favor, I really, really need your help—just one thing, one."

He must have looked really desperate, because Ceci sighed, dropping her shoulders. "Fine. One thing," she said, stepping through the door to set the basket down. "What do you need?"

"I need... an outfit."

---

It was a nicer outfit than he'd expected—a warm cloak with a hood that he was sorely tempted to keep, but he'd promised her he'd bring this one back. To make sure he'd keep his word, she'd kept his goatee, which worked well enough, given he was disguising himself anyway. She'd also agreed to brush his wig, peppering it with some silver hairspray to make him look older. Instead of keeping the purse slung over his shoulder, he carried it in his arms, occasionally looking it over as he walked, rehearsing in his mind what he was going to say.

Still he felt uneasy as he reached the police department, and forced himself to walk through the doors without limping. A woman glanced up at him as he set the purse on the counter.

"I found this discarded near the street," he said, trying to hide the fact that his leg was in agony, as well as his terror that they would recognize him here. "Did... someone report a missing purse?"

After a brief conversation, the woman said she'd get it sorted out—a few people had reported missing purses recently. Héctor nodded, grateful, and left the building, nearly forgetting to mask his limp. He did limp back to Ceci's, though, exchanging the borrowed outfit for his original and his goatee.

"What were you doing, anyway?" Ceci asked, as he stuck his goatee back on. She was a lot less short with him than usual, and he chalked it up to the fact that he'd actually returned the outfit intact.

"Had to... return a stolen purse to the police," he said, quickly brushing his hands through his hair in an attempt to knock the silver out of it. He only succeeded in dusting the palms of his hands silver. "The police and I are, um... not exactly on good terms, heh, so I had to go in disguise so no one recognized me. They'd think I was up to something otherwise."

"You usually are," Ceci remarked, then swatted at his hand when he tried to brush it through his hair again. "Stop that, you'll get that silver everywhere." When he sighed, she crossed her arms. "You returned it, didn't you? What's there to be upset about?"

Good question. "Just... tired," he lied. He was hoping he'd feel better after returning the purse, but all of that woman's money was missing. Even if he'd been able to put it back, it wouldn't erase the fact that he'd chased the woman down and hit her.

He did have one extra thing added to the purse, however: a note.

I'm sorry for what I did. My daughter would never have wanted this. I hope you can enjoy your time with your family, on both sides of the bridge.

It didn't change what he'd done, but for now, Héctor hoped it would be enough.

[changingthelights]

A Familiar

Waylon stared skeptically into the dusty walk-in closet tucked into the back room of Leon's shop. Books, tomes, bottles, and random cleaning supplies dangled haphazardly off of various shelves, and what Waylon thought was a desk and matching chair were buried beneath a piled of... towels? Clothes? Waylon couldn't tell, and it made him a little nervous. There was something to the right of the desk that looked like it might be a broom, but it in front of it were stacked unused shelves for the bookcase beside it, and on top of those- a stack of actual books. Why the shelf hadn't been put together to hold them- Waylon wasn't about to ask.

“Leon hasn't touched this room in years,” Rudi said from behind him, and Waylon turned to glare at the immaculately dressed familiar. Compared to Rudi's playful smirk, Waylon was clearly not amused. Rudi always looked out of place in Leon's homey little shop, dressed in a tailored three-piece suit with his long hair perfectly quaffed and tucked neatly behind his ears. Despite his time here, Waylon still hadn't grown used to the contrast in his appearance compared to his humble, earthy surroundings, and Rudi spending most of his time with Waylon did not help with that.

“It's a room?” Waylon asked, and he glanced back through the doorway, his skepticism increasing.

“Yes,” Rudi huffed, and his brow twitched in a way that signaled to the witch he'd said something to annoy the taller man. Unfortunately for Rudi, Waylon had made it a secret pass-time of his to irritate the fruit bat as often as possible, and he was always extra pleased with himself when he managed to do so without trying.

“Well, it looks like a closet.”

“Alright then,” Rudi let out a long-suffering sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose, “then should I tell Leon you don't want it as a personal workspace? That's why he's having you clean it out.”

That caused the crease in Waylon's brow to disappear, and excitement lit up his honey brown eyes. Having a workplace of his own in the shop meant he'd have full access to all the books and supplies here at his disposal, which Leon had already granted him, but to have a workspace within arms reach of said items would be more convenient. Plus, it meant more complicated spells could be worked on with Leon nearby, and there were certain things he was instructed to wait for assistance with before practicing. Now he had a space in which to practice those specific spells, and the elated swell of excitement in his chest caused him to look at the closet in a completely different way.

“No- no! Sorry, I definitely want the space...”

It was cute, in Rudi's opinion (which he would rather die than admit to), how easily excited Waylon became with even the simplest magick. There was a passion to learn in the witch that he admired.

He knew his suggestion to give this little space to Waylon was the right one. (Also, something he would rather die than admit). In time, Waylon would be able to expand the little room on his own using magick, but this was a perfect place to start. Leon had agreed.

Rudi tilted his head as he watched the young witch enter the room and start to poke around.

“What does he want me to do with what's in here?”

“Toss it, unless you want to keep it yourself. There shouldn't be anything of real importance in there, from what Leon was saying. Just- don't open any unlabeled bottles. If there are any in there, we should have Leon look at them. Also, anything that looks odd- don't touch- and if it looks out of place just- you're smart, Waylon. If you're unsure, just ask.” Rudi shrugged, and with a soft rustle of leather and the blink of an eye, Rudi disappeared. He reappeared in his fruit bat form, hanging upside down from the rafter above the desk leading into the shop.

Taking that as a signal, Waylon set to work.

Waylon wasn't the type to waste anything if he could help it, so first, he tackled the shelves. Once those were cleaned and clear, and the pile of shelves beside the desk returned to the pegs, he could use them. That made room for any of the other miscellaneous items he knew he'd decide to keep, including the pile of cloths that, when cleaned, would have a place to rest. Books were moved to shelves to be read and sorted later, bottles were separated into piles of filled and empty, labeled and not, and the cloth was separated into different bins depending on the type and it's potential use.

It wasn't long after the top of the desk was clear that Waylon noticed the sheen of sweat formed on his brow. He reached up to wipe it away with the back of his wrist, but based on the texture of his wrist across his forehead, that was a mistake. He was pretty sure he just smeared dust across his forehead, and that was when Waylon noticed the dust particles floating through the air.

“Time for a break I guess,” he hummed to himself, to let some of it settle. If he tried to continue now he'd he kick more up, and Waylon was surprised that he hadn't started coughing or sneezing already.

Waylon sank into the seat of the newly cleared chair with a satisfied sigh. As he did, his foot knocked against the inside of the desk, and with a soft 'click' a tiny seam appeared in the wood next to his shoe.

At first Waylon didn't move, as he wasn't sure of what he was seeing, but after a moment his curiosity won him over, and he leaned down to run his fingers along the seam. With a little pull, a small door swung open, revealing a secret compartment. Rudi's words echoed through his mind, warning him about anything weird, and Waylon quietly debated with himself. This wasn't really... “weird”- by itself. Secret compartments were a pretty non-magical thing, and it wasn't an unlabeled bottle, so...

Waylon glanced at the door and listened for any sound from Rudi, or the shop. When there was none, he dropped on all fours so he could peer inside. It was dark inside, but Waylon could make out something small and flat. He reached inside, and after gently tracing one of the edges, he recognized what it was.

“Huh...”

The witch leaned back so he could sit cross-legged on the floor, and out of the compartment he pulled a maroon, pocked-sized, leather-bound book. Waylon turned it over to inspect the spine, and when he saw no title a crease formed between his eyebrows. What kind of a book had no title, or no inscription of any kind on the outside? Journals perhaps, but why would Leon keep a journal tucked away inside an abandoned desk? It must not be that important if he forgot about-

It was then Waylon noticed a shape pressed into the bottom right corner of the cover, and he squinted at the small shape. A weasel? A ferret? An oddly shaped rat? Waylon wasn't positive, but before he could think about his actions, or heed the warning Rudi had given him barely an hour and a half before, Waylon opened the little book.

“Ah!” Waylon shouted and slammed his eyes shut as a blinding white light flashed outwards from the book. The sound of rushing wind filled his ears, and a gust swept up around him, knocking the books, bottles, and shelves- all of his hard work- onto the floor. Waylon covered his head with his arms to shield himself from the falling debris, and in his surprise, the book slipped from his hand. As soon as it hit the floor between his feet the light faded, and the wind stopped, leaving the young witch surrounded by silence that felt almost painful.

Hello Master!

A tiny voice echoed through Waylon's mind, surprising him, and his eyes snapped open. Between his feet, where the book had fallen, perched a tiny white ferret with his little paws spread over the open, blank, pages.

You are the one who freed me from the book, yes?

The voice again, as Waylon stared, mouth agape, at the tiny little creature. It tilted it's head, and it's little white ears twitched towards Waylon.

Hello? Do you talk?

The ferret bumped its head against Waylons ankle, as if trying to get his attention. It was timed weirdly well with the voice...

I've been waiting for so long for someone to free me! That cranky 'ole bat couldn't take a joke- and I-

The ferret started to approach Waylon, head tilting in time with each inflection of the voice in his head-

“YOU.”

Rudi's voice, filled with a furry that made Waylon cringe, interrupted their little interaction.

The ferret let out a terrified squeak, and before Waylon could stop it, the furry creature had scrambled up his thigh and under the hem of his shirt.

“H-hey- hey!” Waylon balked as little claws scratched at his skin, but the animal was surprisingly slippery in Waylon's attempts to catch it. Once it reached Waylon's chest, it's furry little head poked up through the neck of Waylon's shirt, and it glared tiny daggers at the man fuming in the doorway.

Please Master- please don't let him get me! Rudi just can't take a joke and didn't like competition! I didn't do anything wrong-

“You lie, you little beast!” Rudi hissed, apparently he could hear that little voice too, “Leon was kind enough to take you in until you could find your own witch, and then you tried to take him away from me! Not that you had a chance- but then you fucking cursed my hair purple! It took Leon weeks to figure out how to get it out-”

Well I could'a removed it if you hadn't locked me in a book!

The ferret hissed in return, barring it's little teeth up at Rudi. That earned a glare from the fruit bat familiar, and he took an aggressive lunge towards Waylon and the ferret that made the smaller creature squeak and disappear under Waylon's shirt.

“Hey- HEY!” Waylon shouted, drawing attention to himself between the two fighting creatures. “Do ou think you two could set aside whatever beef you had so you explain to me what's going on? Like, who are you- and why do you keep calling me 'Master'?” Waylon pointed to the ferret, whose ears perked up as he was addressed, and he moved to scramble up out of Waylon's shirt through the neck.

Rudi's fury faltered at Waylon's question, and he narrowed his eyes as the little ferret crawled back down Waylons chest so he could perch on the top of Waylon's bent knee.

Waylon seemed a little apprehensive, he was still reeling from the shock of opening the book, but that didn't stop him from helping the ferret when there was a moment he seemed like he might slip. Once he was settled Waylon's hands folded across his lap, and he leveled an expectant stare at the little creature.

I'm sorry!

The ferret's head tilted and dipped in an apologetic nod.

My name is Valens! I'm a familiar- and that mean 'ole Rudi over there-

Valens' tail flicked in Rudi's direction, making the other familiar twitch.

-locked me in a book cause I played a little prank on him. I was staying here with Leon, and before that, I'd been searching for a witch to make a contract with for some time!

Tiny, little red eyes sparkled at Waylon, and the young witch suddenly felt like a bug under a microscope. He was a witch, and he didn't have a familiar, but- he wasn't a witch of any talent! This- Valens- couldn't be serious.

Silence rolled between the three, and the longer it stretched, the more pressured Waylon felt to respond. He looked over at Rudi expectantly, hoping for some sort of add-on to the conversation. Surely, Rudi had more to explain, or a denial of the Valens accusations, but it seemed both familiars had forgotten about their feud. Both had their eyes trained on him, looking expectantly in return.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Waylon asked as his cheeks warmed. There was no way a familiar would consider him for their witch. He didn't consider himself a witch of any note, and from what he'd read, both familiar and witch benefit from a contract. Why would any familiar want to lend themselves to his lackluster abilities? He'd only just learned how to make that ball of light with ease- and that was a fairly simple spell from what he could tell. “You can't- you can't be asking to make a contract with me, right?”

Valens' pure white head tilted to the side, and Waylon was sure he could see the familiar smiling. Did ferrets have the type of muscles needed to smile?

I don't see any other witch in here. Do you?

Waylon stared, and Valens stared back as his fluffy tail swished idly over Waylon's shin.

“This is uh... a little much. Don't you like- shouldn't we like, think about it? Get to know each other?” Waylon asked, which earned a curious tilt of Valens head.

Nope! I know you're the witch for me! I just feel it in my bones. Plus, if you're Leon's apprentice, you must have some skill. So, it's a win for me either way, really. As much as I was interested in a man with Leon's abilities, contracting with a younger witch has its own benefits that we both can enjoy! I like fostering the abilities of witches, and in the long run it helps my abilities grow as well.

Waylon stared for a few more seconds before he looked to Rudi.

“Is that normal? To just- want a contract out of no where?”

“For him, yes,” Rudi chuckled, although the look in his eyes indicated that fact annoyed him. “All of us are a little different. Some of us, like him- apparently- forge contracts based on instinct. Sometimes, you simply click with a witch. Leon and I clicked when we first met. It felt natural to contract with him. Valens is an impulsive little rat, but the desire to contract like this with you is not out of the ordinary.”

“If that's true, then why were you searching so long for a witch? It seems unlikely to me that you would just.... pick me.”

Valen eased backwards off of  Waylon's knee, using his little claws to scoot himself down Waylon's pant leg and onto the ground. He took a seat between Waylon's feet, and his curious expression returned.

Why wouldn't I want to pick you? Plus, it's not like I follow every impulse I have. I just follow the ones my gut says are the right ones, and you, Waylon, feel like a right one!

“I didn't tell you my name.”

I can hear it silly! In your head. Now come on, it's not every day you can make a contract with a familiar!

Waylon glanced warily up at Rudi, who shrugged.

“It's up to you, little witch. He's not a bad guy, for as much as I wish to wring his neck. He's just a prankster. He's not even that strong, so he's fairly harmless. He could be a benefit to you, and that's all I will say. If you don't want to be bound together, there are rituals that can be performed to remove him.”

Valens' ears flattened against his head as he turned to narrow his eyes at Rudi, and they perked up when he turned back to Waylon. When he turned back, Waylon was /sure/ he was smiling, and he realized Valens' adorableness was... dangerous. Those little red eyes were very hard to resist.

“Alright...” Waylon answered after a pause, and he eyed the little animal thoughtfully.  “I wouldn't mind some help in my practice, so I'm down for a trial run as long as you promise to behave yourself when we return to where I spend most of my time.

I live with my boyfriend in his aunt's home. They're both vampires, and I'm fairly sure neither of them have the type of personality that would appreciate any sort of shenanigans or pranks. Anything like that could get me kicked out, both of us killed, or... I don't know. Something horrible. My boyfriend's aunt... she doesn't like me already, so I'm serious when I say you can do nothing that would put you on her bad side. Alright?”

Waylon gave Valens a hard stare.

“I'll have to clear it first with my boyfriend, to make sure you can stay there when I'm there, regardless. But, if not, I have a motor home you can stay in on a separate property. Can you agree to behave appropriately when in spaces that don't belong to me?”

Valens nodded eagerly. The adorable twitch of his round little ears made it hard for Waylon to hold his stare.

Yes! I can behave! I only played pranks because they amused Leon! I can be good, I promise.

Waylon wondered quietly why he was agreeing to this all so quickly. Maybe it was the rush of adrenaline from their encounter, coupled with the excitement of getting his own workspace? The curiosity that came with having a familiar of his own? The excitement that he could further his abilities with a little extra boost? The same desire to know the unknown, the same desire that had driven him to reach into a hidden compartment, immediately after Rudi warned him to be cautious?

Waylon could hear a voice in his head reminding him of his low impulse control, it was part of why he had spent so much time traveling, but in most cases it had rarely steered him wrong. Obviously, practicing magic wasn't nearly the same thing as choosing a random place to travel. Lack of control could be dangerous, but he trusted Rudi to stop him if this was truly unwise. Nothing about Valens said 'malicious' or 'dangerous'- and Waylon usually had a keen sense of a person's character upon a first meeting.

A soft sigh escaped Waylon's lips. At least, if this ended up not working out, the contract was breakable.

“How do we do this, then?” Waylon asked, and he watched with gentle alarm as Valens' body started to vibrate with excitement.

A loud 'pop' ripped through the air, and Waylon winced. In a single blink, Waylon went from watching a ferret shudder, to being face to face with a man with a well defined jaw, eerily beautiful red eyes, and short, tousled hair nearly as white as the fur he'd sported in his much smaller form. It didn't help that their position was rather compromising, with Valens kneeling between his thighs, trapping Waylon against the wall as his taller form towered over the witch.

“What-” but Waylon's question was cut off as Valen's lips pressed against his own. Waylon squeaked and froze, startled once again by... everyhing. Waylon remained perfectly still, frozen in shock as he tried to process what was happening. Only as Valens' lips moved against his own, as if to try and deepen the kiss, did he snap back to the present.

“Hey!” Waylon twisted his head away from Valens and thrust his arms out to put some distance between them. “I said I had a boyfriend, what the hell are you trying to do?!”

Valens pouted as he was pushed, but he relented, and he shimmied back so he could kneel a few feet away from Waylon.

“That's how you seal the contract,” Valens grumbled sheepishly, but he offered no further explanation.

Waylon was struck with the thought that this was, already, a mistake, but by the look in Valens eyes and his downcast gaze, Waylon could see there was some sort of remorse there. The familiar tugged idly at the hem of his tight black t-shirt, and as Waylon followed the motion of his hand, he was surprised to notice rips in the knees of Valens jeans. Compared to Rudi, this outfit was painfully simple. Rudi almost always wore some variation of formal wear, often suits, and Waylon didn't realize he'd come to just expect familiars to dress the same way.

“Well I highly doubt you needed to keep kissing me,” Waylon rose to his feet and swatted at his pants to dust himself off. It gave him a moment to calm the blush burning in his cheeks, and to find his words.

When he did look at Valens, he scowled as if he were trying to scold the other, but the look in his eyes said he wasn't truly upset. “Don't do that again. I don't appreciate it, and I don't think my boyfriend would much appreciate it either. I'd prefer if he liked you, at least a little. Also- no more calling me 'master'- just call me Waylon.” He reached up to give Valens' head a gentle pat, to show he'd been forgiven, and the familiar's expression brightened considerably. It was almost blinding, the smile that followed, and Waylon was again surprised, this time by how quickly Valens' mood transitioned.

A second later, Valens scrambled to his feet, and Waylon was surprised to find himself looking up at the familiar. He was tall!

“Understood, Master!” Valens chimed in a voice fitting for his size, deeper than the voice he had in ferret form. Waylon wondered if he should be shielding his eyes from the brightness of that smile.

“Waylon.”

“Oh- right- Waylon!” A gust of wind followed, and in a blink Valens was gone. Waylon felt something small press over his shoulders, and when he looked, a little white ferret perched there, head cocked and little red eyes sparkling. Valens was smiling again in his ferret form, and Waylon reached up to give Valens chin a scratch. He nuzzled into Waylon's finger, and that worry that this had been a mistake, faded a little.

Are you gonna introduce me to your boyfriend now? Valens voice asked in Waylon's head, and he looked over at Rudi.

“What time is it?” Waylon asked, and Rudi waved his hand towards the door of the shop.

“Go on, I can watch the shop for the rest of the day. Just don't try any magic until we can do some tests to gauge how your abilities have changed.”

“Changed?”

Yes! Now that the contract is made, you'll be stronger, and the type of magic and spells you have an affinity for might become more apparent, Valens chimed in, it's probably best to wait to do any spell work in a controlled setting- with someone else to help out. I could, but its safer with someone not tied to our contract.

Waylon nodded.

“Alright, see you tomorrow, Rudi!”

At the parting sound of the familiar bell above the shop door, Waylon stepped into the cool afternoon air and headed for home.

[completelypeccable]

Can I Have This Dance?

Chp 1. Dancing on my own

The Wayne gala was even more insufferable than normal, Damian thought as he maneuvered his way away from the reporters intent on getting a scandal. Her nails dug into his hand as he twisted away, and her handprint on his arm pulsed hot, hot as he squeezed between dancers swaying hip to hip and waiters with wine stained socks. Yes, suffer he did, as the building was overfilled with all sorts of idiots from the business sector to the fashion world, and the press that tracked their every breath.

Sardines in a can, he thought. That’s what Richard would say. But Richard wasn’t here. In fact, all his siblings were busy tonight, and Damian could admit to himself that he missed them. Had missed them, ever since they went their own ways several months prior.

Bloated ignoramos, Damian hated the way people kept being able to touch him, without him even seeing it coming. He jerked as another large hand grabbed his shoulder. The ballroom was dark, with only enough visibility to tell where the dark figures swarmed, thereby cloaking all in anonymity. The room was too busy, what with the number of dresses and suits flitting here and there, the staccato pulse of music, and the incessant hands grabbing at him. To Damian, the figures loomed above him and blocked his line of sight in most directions. The event wasn’t exactly meant for minors, yet here he was. His fleshy cage was becoming suffocating, and he sucked in the stale, sweaty air coming out of their open mouths. Laughing, laughing.

The guests moved by the light of the massive fluorescent flowers on the wall, which pulsed to the beat of the music blasting from each of the 57 speakers and cast the room in uneven green light. Entirely excessive seemed the motto of the night. And the most excessive thing still was the sheer number of people drinking, talking, laughing, and dancing. Excessive drinking, and everything that went along with that.

He ducked out of the way of Reporter Claws, seriously? Stalking kids?, and he couldn’t escape the feeling that everything was another part of his training, that he would be attacked from any moment on any side.

Another another pair of stilettos stumbled and splashed a streak of champagne onto his suit. Damian just wanted a corner. A wall. Somewhere he could make sense of this swarm. His face felt hot, and phantom nails scratched and pinched his cheeks. He cursed his height for the thousandth time that night. Wiping his sleeve only mixed his sweat with the sticky alcohol, everything coming up muddled. The flowers. The flowers meant the wall.

His mind felt fuzzy, like the crinkle of a cut-out com. Cut off. Alone. Surrounded by faceless shadow beings, their mouths unhinged to bear their shining teeth.

Damian reached out, slipped, and squished his cheek against the pocked gray paint. He spun and pushed his body flat, sucking in short breaths.

Survey your location, his mother’s voice barked. Never stand unguarded.

There were too many bodies, twisting through, in and out. I just want to go home, Damian thought. His palms slipped, too wet to hold him up. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing felt real, there was a wall of cotton between him and the crowd, the crowd where angry eyes held knives and waited.

A weak fool, grandfather whispered.

Damian’s knees shook. His head was full of static, and he couldn’t remember where he was, or what he had to do. What had Mother said? Memories came under his eyes and Damian couldn’t get out, couldn’t escape the fingers, the teeth, the knives-

Stop, no. Just- please-

Grandfather’s fist-

Shhhh, hey, hey.

Callused hands cupped his face and Jason crouched in front of him on the rooftop. Rain slid down his face, but his smile was soft and warm.

Five senses, kid. Use your words. Just like we practiced.

Damian held his breath until his lungs shook. The static cleared slightly. Senses, which? Um, hearing, a- a woman. Loud, booming, asserting her... reputation?

That meant music. And the buzz must be a crowd. He felt warm and very sweaty, wet on his face, back, and hands. When did he sit down?

Taste. His mouth tasted salty.

Not ready to open his eyes, Damian crinkled his nose. It smelled vaguely rank, but with a cocophany of heavy perfumes. Kind of gross. And wet.

The song changed three times, fast beats Stephanie would probably like. She sometimes started singing under her breath when patrol got slow.

The flower stopped pulsing, and cool blues and purples mixed together on the other sides of his eyes. The music slowed, and the DJ called for dancers to find who they came with.

Father...

“Father, I didn’t want to come, could we go some-“

“No, Damian.” He waved his hand in dismissal, already distracted and smiling to some dark haired woman. “This is important.”

His hand slipped from his shoulder, and he passed through the crowd to her side.

Damian stood alone, trying to control his breathing as another couple cood and grabbed his face with smooth fingers and sharp nails. A blinding camera flashed.

Yes, to his father, some things were more important than others.

But just maybe... he hadn’t seen him all night. It had been hours. Maybe he would try to find him now?

Somebody said you got a new friend

Does she love you better than I can?

Damian walked his way across the wall, scanning the room for his father’s familiar figure.

There's a big black sky over my town

I know where you're at, I bet she's around.

There! On the other side of the room! Damian awkwardly slipped around couples connected at the hips, shoulders, and mouth.

And yeah, I know it's stupid

But I just gotta see it for myself

Father must have seen him, he must be coming this way, too. In his excitement, Damian tripped over a dancer’s leg. A lone waitress caught his arm, swinging him back up. Damian wiggled, looking past her as the crowd cleared in front of them.

“Sweetheart, where are your parents? Is your mom here?”

“My dad, he’s coming, he’s right-“

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh oh oh

Father hadn’t seen him. Now, with a clear view, he didn’t even look. Hadn’t looked. He stared at the woman draped all over him, a smirk on his face. Damian stopped talking.

I'm right over here, why can't you see me, oh oh oh

“What was that, sweetheart? Where’s your dad?”

And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

“Um..” Damian looked away as the dark haired woman touched his father’s cheek and kissed him.

The waitress came back into focus. Professional smile.

“Um...”

I keep dancing on my own

“I need to use the bathroom.”

Damian twisted his arm and slipped through the crowd, even as the waitress called after him.

His eyes itched.

I'm just wanna dance all night

What had he expected, anyways? A hug? Father to say they had done enough and could end the night, like it were some sort of mission?

And I'm all messed up, I'm so out of line

Father... Father preferred this company. Preferred these happy, attractive fools to... useless difficult children. The way he looked at the woman-

Stilettos and broken bottles

The tears slid down his face, and his body felt hot shame all over.

I'm spinning around in circles.

Damian stumbled through blurry vision. He ran into someone and fell flat on his rump.

Blinking rapidly, he tried to make sense of the lights and moving colors. Still he scrambled to his feet and left before the dancers could grab him with their red tipped hands. He scratched his face on their shiny skirt.

And I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh

It was always another disappointment with Father. Damian knew he was a hard person to deal with. He knew, he knew he could be stubborn, and rude, and everything they said about him.

I'm right over here, why can't you see me, oh

But he was trying! He listened, and obeyed. That had been enough even for mother, for grandfather. But he wasn’t enough here- he was never going to be enough. He wasn’t, he wasn’t-

And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

He wasn’t wanted. He was the accident, the kid dropped on the doorstep. All the others, they were chosen. His father cared about them. And they were all better than him, they were good. Father hadn’t even looked for Damian all night. He hadn’t talked to him in weeks, barely saw him. He was always gone, always avoiding him. Was he that disappointing?

I keep dancing on my own

Damian reached the back of the room, where the equipment and tables were.

Who would want me?

He tripped on a wire, scrambling forward on his hands.

A failure, a stubborn freak. A murderer, and a weak one at that. Who no one cared about. Who no one looked for. No one, no one- loved.

Damian curled into a ball behind the mega speaker, squeezed his eyes shut, and cried.

The crowd kept dancing.

...

So far away but still so near

The lights come up, the music dies

Damian didn’t know how long he could keep feeling this heartbroken.

But you don't see me standing here

How had he let himself set expectations to get let down?

I just came to say goodbye

He was an unwanted problem. All evidence led there. Damian couldn’t really think of the last time he’d been happy, ever since he’d been living with his father. His father was always angry or disappointed. Mostly just gone.

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh

Damian could disappear.

And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

He could go back to Mother... but that might kill him.

I keep dancing on my own

What could he- where would he- who-?

Sit down in the corner, watching you kiss her, oh no

Damian sobbed.

And I'm right over here, why can't you see me, oh no

“Hey, hey!”

Someone rubbed his back and held his face with long, calloused fingers.

Stupid, he thought, even as he leaned into the rough hands. Didn’t even hear them coming.

“Hey, Damian, please bud- you’re okay.”

Damian tried to stop crying, but he couldn’t breathe.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, you’re okay. Come here, I found you.”

Damian would have fought it if he could find it in himself to care that his grandfather would be so angry.

Instead, he let the man pull him into his lap and tuck his face into their neck.

Wait... I know...

I keep dancing on my own

Damian leaned back and looked.

“There you are,” Timothy smiled, tightening his arms around him. He was holding the back of his head like an infant, his other arm curled around his side and back.

It felt... nice. Did he deserve that?

Damian sniffed, another tear dripped down, and Tim’s face softened even more. He pulled the boy back into his chest, carding his fingers through his curly hair.

And I'm giving it my all, but I'm not the guy you're taking home, ooh

Timothy, of any person, should be here the least. After everything.

“I’m sorry,” Damian whispered. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m-“

Tim shushed him, and simply curled around him more, resting his cheek on his forehead to complete the cocoon.

Timothy kissed his hairline and Damian breathed, easier than he had in a long time.

So far away, but still so near.

Timothy tucked his hair behind his ear. He was warm and real, rocking slowly.

“What do you think about ditching this place? I have some movies back at my apartment, or we can play Minecraft. We could do creative, and see who can make a better fortress.”

Damian smiled into his shoulder, nodding.

“Alright,” Timothy stood, shifting Damian onto his hip.

Damian curled his arms around him and pressed his nose into his brother’s neck, just above his suit, squishing into his stubbly skin.

The lights come up, the music dies

Timothy continued to murmur as they made their way through the crowd, pushing through various fabrics and the people in them. Damian felt each word thrum up, buzz against his face before reaching his ear. It tickled just a little, reminding him this was all real, all happening.

You’re really here.

“I’ll grab that blanket Dick gave me, the weighted one with every version of Robin on it. I have popcorn and cashews at my house. Those are your favorite. I keep some hummus in the fridge, usually too.”

You’re really here this time.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, I doubt you actually ate tonight, so I can pick up some-“

“Timothy?”

He stopped short for a second, a quick stutter before he was walking again and petting his hair.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Why are you here?”

But you don't see me standing here.

Above Damian’s head, Timothy glared across the crowd where he knew his father still danced, completely unaware. The venom in that look made a confused movie star swallow and skitter out of the way.

“I just got back from a mission with the Titans about an hour ago. I stopped by the manor and found out you were here, so I came to keep you company.”

Tim’s neck got just a little wetter. His heart broke. Damian felt so small in his arms.

He was going to kill Bruce.

“Oh,” came the tiniest squeak.

“These gala’s are the worst. I know how overwhelming they can be when you’re on your own.”

A shake breath tickled his chin.

“Everyone kept touching me,” Damian wiggled his cold, wet nose down to his collarbone, and Tim ducked his head to press his cheek to his forehead.

This poor little kid.

“Rich folks are the worst. You know what Jason says.”

“We should,” a sniff, but a little smile, “eat the rich.”

Tim smiled widely and kissed him again.

Another song played, but the lights stayed dim enough that they stepped out of the ballroom without too much of a fuss.

Timothy kept holding Damian, even as he stepped into the Uber he had asked to wait 15 minutes before. He didn’t tell Damian about how Dick was getting increasingly frantic and worried about Bruce raising Damian, giving him mission after mission outside of Gotham so that he barely saw the kid anymore. How he grew jealous and angry when Dick got Damian to laugh, or hug him, or hang out for the day. Tim didn’t tell him how Jason told him about Damian’s anxiety and trained fear, or how he got into a screaming argument with Bruce about how he talked to the kid. Tim didn’t tell him that he was starting to resent Bruce for the cold person he was becoming, and for the way he was the worst form of Batman to his own son.

Tim just held him as they drove, as Damian’s breathing finally evened out and his long, dark lashes tickled his neck.

Tim didn’t tell Damian about how Steph and Cass were already coming over tomorrow with plans to make Damian act like a real kid, maybe with a zoo trip in mind. Or how Dick was planning on taking Damian home with him as soon as he got back in a week. How Jason was already headed back to the apartment with some sort of vegetarian dish he swore the kid loved.

Tim kissed the kid’s baby curls and wondered how he ever hated him. Damian whispered a small thank you, but Tim just murmured nonsense into his ear until they pulled up to his apartment.

They were going to have a long night, where he and Jason tried to convince him that he was safe, that they cared so much about him. Where Damian and he inevitably joined together to make the most impenetrable and dramatic castle, while Jason pretended to be some villain (butt-head man, or the green uvula) that was always defeated with brute force and sarcasm. Where Damian was always touching someone, curled up against their side, sitting on their lap, laying between their legs.

But for now, for now, Tim held his baby brother against his chest, stroked his hair, and promised the universe that this kid was his, and he would always be there for him.

Damian smiled, and Tim hoped he got the message.