#if you just paid attention to the things around you then you’d be fucking golden

[schmope-is-dead]

only based tiktok post

[eli-com]

୧ *·˚ SLURPEES — BILLY HARGROVE

୨୧ includes — fem!reader, non-proof read thoughtless writing, lewd comments from Billy, mentions of sex, fluff fluff fluff, mentions of abuse, sweet billy, bit of ooc billy, somewhat sad ending?

— “Cant wait for the day I can take you away from this shitty fucking town.” Your boyfriend’s voice would pierce through the previous silence, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he spoke, the both of you watching as it rose and eventually vanished.

Billy had picked you up from your house after a big argument with his dad, the two of you driving around town in his Camaro for a while before eventually ending up at Lovers Lake, laying on the hood of the blue vehicle, staring up into the dark, endless sky above. You could pretend you were anywhere when you stared up at the sky, imagine you weren’t stuck in a town with unreal, murderous creatures, imagine you and Billy had met under better circumstances, imagine that the both of you were free to do as you pleased.

Billy had fallen for you the minute he set eyes on you during his first day at school. He’d been waiting to receive his class rota from the receptionist when the sound of a door opening caught his attention, his head turning and his eyes meeting those alluring (e/c) ones. You had a pretty smile on your lips as you waved goodbye to whoever was in the office; the principle, your dad. It was almost laughable how cliche it all was, you were the ‘sweetest girl in Hawkins’, the golden girl who had everything going for her, whilst he was the ‘troubled bad boy’ your father would never approve of. After your first encounter you seemed to appear everywhere, in the school halls, at parties, the supermarket, fuck he even spotted you when he was just driving around town. Billy had never been so drawn to anyone in his life, never felt such a craving for another persons attention — he hated it. Instead of accepting his feelings he’d done his best to forget about them, taking a new girl home each night, sometimes multiple at a time, but he never managed to get rid of the thought of you.

He’d taken a particularly harsh beating from his dad one night, driving around town as he usually did, music blaring to distract himself from the angry tears that poured down his face. He felt weak, aggravated, all kinds of thoughts running through his mind. He could leave now, just like his mum had, just keep driving and never look back. But where would he go? How would he afford the gas? Food? It wasn’t realistic, he may not be the best in school but he wasn’t stupid. So instead he parked up at the closest gas station, on the hunt for a new pack of cigarettes (he could go through a pack a day if things were particularly rough). Upon entering, his eyes were immediately drawn to you, standing over the slurpee machine and watching as the syrupy liquid turned, sipping on your own cup, almost as if you were lost in thought. You were dressed in some pink pyjama pants with little dogs in sweaters on them and an oversized hoodie, cute.

Billy almost debated approaching you for a moment, debated asking what you were doing at the gas station at 2 am, wouldn’t your dad be mad? Did he even know you were out? What if something happened on your way back and nobody knew you were out? He’d shake the thoughts away, approaching the counter, only to find nobody there, his features hardening once more as he slammed a hand down onto the service bell, looking around for any sign of an employee. That was when his eyes met yours, an amused smile playing on your lips, which were now stained purple from the mix of red and blue syrup. He couldn’t help but wonder how sweet you’d taste.

“Oscar’s out back, don’t think he’ll be back for a while, his lady friend paid him a visit and he looked pretty eager to drag her out of here.” You’d speak in that sickly sweet tone of yours, his brows raising in confusion. Oscar? You knew the employee by name? Surely he couldn’t be your boyfriend, otherwise you wouldn’t look so amused by the ‘lady friend’ part of the story. Billy would lean his hands onto the counter.

“Great, that’s great. His boss know he slacks off to have fun with his ‘friend’?” He’d question, eyeing the array of different cigarette brands behind the counter. Surely this guys friend could keep him occupied long enough for Billy to hop the counter and take a pack without anybody noticing? Well, anyone but you, but considering you were out this late, which Billy knew wouldn’t slide with your dad from his many encounters with the strict man, he didn’t think you’d be all too bothered.

“No, how would he know? Nobody’s gonna tell.” You’d shrug with a coy grin, waving your slurpee in the air. Was this guy bribing you with free drinks? Billy couldn’t help the small grin that pulled at his lips, you looked so proud of your small act of rebellion, keeping secrets so some guy could blow his load in the back of a gas station, surrounded by trash. Deciding to go for it, the teenage boy would hop the counter, analysing the different choices he had before picking up a pack of his favourites, immediately opening it and placing one between his lips, lighting it and giving an exhale of relief. “You’re Billy, right? You’re in my home room!”

Billy wasn’t surprised you knew his name, most people in Hawkins did by now, he wasn’t exactly shy, yet for some reason just the sound of you saying it out loud made his stomach feel funny. He’d never given much thought to his name, but god did it sound good coming from your lips. He’d hum in agreement, finally turning to fully face you, cigarette still dangling from his mouth. That’s when he heard the gasp of shock that left you, confusion washing over him as he watched you approach, backing up until he was practically sat on the counter, you between his legs and staring up at him with a weird look on your face. One of curiosity, one of concern? He wasn’t used to seeing someone look worried about him.

“Holy shit! What happened to your face, did you get mugged or something?” Right, now he knew why you looked so worried. His dad had delivered a powerful blow to the side of Billy’s face during their argument that night, and there was no doubt in his mind it was already beginning to bruise. The sight of you looking concerned for his well-being had his chest tightening, he could practically feel your breath on him from this position. Fuck, since when did other people have such an effect on him? He’d never even spoken to you before yet you managed to make his cheeks become a rosy hue just from a look.

“What? No, you really think someone would try fucking mug me?” He’d scoff, almost offended, rolling his eyes and dropping the hardly used cigarette to the floor before peering back down at you, hard features suddenly melting at the sight of that caring look in your eyes, the way your lips pulled into a small frown. Did you know how gorgeous you were? He didn’t think so, nobody who knew they were as beautiful as you were would be hanging about in Hawkins. No, in Billy’s mind you were pretty enough to be a model, fuck, if he had it his way you’d be on every billboard and magazine cover out there. He’d never get tired of seeing those perfect features. “I just- I ran into my door, earlier.” He’d internally groan at the shitty excuse.

You didn’t question him, which he was grateful for; you could tell he wasn’t all that eager to talk about whatever really happened at the moment and you didn’t want to upset him more, it was clear he’d already had a tough night. “Does it hurt? Looks like it hurts.” Without thinking you’d raise the icy cup in your hand, pressing it ever so gently to the side of his face where the bruising had occurred. He’d hiss, trying to move away from it as it stung him, but your hand would follow, making sure the cup didn’t leave the side of his face. “Stop moving, it’ll help.” You’d speak sternly; you were bossy, he guessed you probably got it from your dad. But rather than getting annoyed with you like he would your father, he found himself obeying, relaxing back against the counter and letting you hold the cup to his face, the ice inside somewhat easing the burning of the bruises.

The two of you stayed like that for god knows how long, refilling the slurpee cup every so often and talking about anything and everything; California, your dad, music — all sorts. Billy was just grateful to be given the chance to have such a long conversation with you, even if he hadn’t been the one to initiate it. Eventually the gas station employee would return, he looked maybe only a few years older than the two of you, a lanky boy with hair so long in the front that it had Billy wondering how he could see where he was going. He wore a dopey grin on his lips until he spotted the two of you behind the counter, immediately throwing his arms into the air and ordering you both to move, mentioning something about how he said you could help yourself to the slurpee machine and nothing more. Billy drove you home that night, and when he parked outside of your house you grabbed a pen that had for some reason been thrown onto his dashboard, writing your number down onto the palm of his hand and offering a cheeky smile before rushing off back to your home. Billy called you the minute he woke up later that day asking you to see a movie with him, and since then you hadn’t left each others sides.

Billy had never felt so much love for another person until he met you, never wished for someone’s presence the way he wished for yours. When his mum walked out and left him behind with Neil, Billy didn’t blame her, in fact he probably would’ve done the same. Maybe she wanted to leave every trace of her old life behind, and that included him. Maybe she saw how much Neil had fucked him up and feared he’d turn out just like him; that was Billy’s biggest fear too, but when he looked at you he knew there was no way he could ever hurt you, especially not in the ways his dad had hurt his mum. You made him feel like he didn’t have to hide how he felt, you validated his emotions, helped him calm down when he was panicking, treated his wounds when he got into a fight with Neil. You reminded him that life didn’t end the minute his mum left, and that he was worthy of happiness. You let him know he had the right to feel betrayed, that it really was possible for someone to love him despite his anger and stubborn nature. Billy didn’t usually think of the future, he had a hard enough time just coping with the present, but since he’d met you it seemed he couldn’t stop imagining what life could be like as you grew together. He couldn’t stop imagining living that comfortable life he’d always hated the sound of until he began to imagine it with you; buying a home, getting married, having children, he’d do it all, as long as he got to do it with you.

So, as he gazed up at the stars above you both, he couldn’t help but let his imagination take over, a sigh leaving him as he exhaled another drag of his cigarette. “‘M gonna make you the happiest woman in the world, I’ll make sure of it… Gonna become someone your dad would be proud to see you with, someone you can brag about to your fancy friends…” He’d whisper, eyes never leaving the sky, lost in a daze. Your dad had made it clear to Billy since the moment you confirmed your relationship that he did not approve, and as much as Billy wished he could say he didn’t care — he did. You were his other half, and he knew how important your dad was to you. He wanted to fit into every aspect of your life and hated to hear of all the arguments you had with your father over him, how you had to defend him constantly. He didn’t want to be the reason for the strain in your relationship with your father, it hurt him to see you so upset, but at the same time he’d never give you up just because somebody else didn’t approve. He’d be damned if he lost you all because of another persons opinion, you were it for Billy.

“I dont care what anybody else thinks, Billy, you know that… I’m proud to be with you. I’m proud of you.” You’d voice, turning your head from the sky to look at him, eyes trailing over his side profile, from the long lashes you’d always been jealous of to those pillowy lips you knew the feel of all too well by now. You could stare at him for hours on end, he was just so pretty. “You already make me the happiest woman in the world just by being with me.”

He couldn’t help but shake his head at your words, taking your hand in his and lifting it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, eyes momentarily closing. This was the gentle side to Billy that only you got to see, and you couldn’t be more honoured. The little touches, gentle kisses, longing looks; all yours.

“What did I ever do to deserve you, huh?” He’d mumble against your hand, crystal blue eyes opening and meeting yours, a timid smile on his lips. “Still, ‘m gonna get you out of this place, take you to Cali and show you all the places I used to hang, teach you how to surf if you’re up to it.” He’d grin at the thought of you on a surfboard — you’d always been extremely clumsy, and he’d pay to see you take a tumble off a surf board and into the ocean. As if reading his mind, you’d lean over to slap at his arm before he copied you, throwing his cigarette away and attacking your sides with his fingers, sending you into a laughing fit as he tickled you. “Why’d you slap me? You gonna say sorry?” He’d joke with a wide smirk on his lips, his hands never ceasing their attack on you, enjoying the way you squirmed under him, involuntary laughs leaving you.

“Billy, enough! I can’t-” You’d break into another fit of giggles, doing your best to push your boyfriend off of you, but he didn’t budge. “William! I said enough!” You’d cry out, the use of his first name causing Billy to chuckle as he finally stopped tickling you, hands resting on your hips as he allowed you to catch your breath, leaning over your body, brushing his nose against yours affectionately. He'd always hated his first name, thought it made him sound old, but when he heard it coming from your lips? He couldn't have asked for a better name. “You’re an asshole.” You’d breathe out, lifting a hand and cupping his cheek as he smirked down at you, leaning into your touch almost instinctively.

“You’re so beautiful.” He’d lean in, whispering against your lips before capturing them in a slow, passionate kiss, one hand resting on your hip, thumb caressing it whilst the other travelled higher to your waist, his chest pressed to your own. Nights like these were when Billy appreciated you the most, the nights when you could make him forget about all his problems with just your presence — he had no idea where he’d be without you there to ground him.

“Meant what I said, every word of it. We’re gonna own a nice house on the beach and I’ll make sure it has a massive porch that you can practise your painting on… Can go for morning swims, I’ll get to see what you look like when I fuck you in the sand-” He was cut off by you sending another slap to his arm, only this time it was a bit harsher, causing him to laugh loudly. “I’ll buy you the biggest fucking rock of a ring you’ve ever seen, all the ladies’ll be so jealous, and all the guys will wonder what lucky bastard got to put that thing on your finger…” He’d place a tender kiss to your cheek before moving up to your forehead, then to your closed eyelids. “You’ll be the most gorgeous bride in the world, can’t wait to see you in one of those fancy dresses, all dressed up for me.” He’d lean down to your ear, lips grazing over it as he spoke, his breath blowing against it causing shivers to run down your spine. “Then ‘m gonna make you a mummy, yeah? Make your stomach all round, fuck, you’d look so good pregnant with my babies.” He’d nibble at your ear. “Just imagine it, teaching the kids to surf, watching them play on the beach… It’s gonna be perfect. Fuck, I hope our babies have your smile, gonna be the cutest kids around.”

His words had your chest tightening, a breathless smile on your lips as you stared up at him, hand slipping from the side of his face up to his head where it ran through his curls. If he hoped your future kids had your smile, you sure hoped they had his hair and eyes, they were two of your favourite things about him. It wasn’t hard to imagine a future with Billy, in fact, you’d been planning it since the moment you met the guy when you see both 17, the two of you now 18 and about to finish Highschool. Sure, you were still young, most people would likely say too young to talk about marriage and children, but you knew, you knew you wanted those things, and you knew you wanted them with Billy.

"You'll be a great dad, Billy, I just know it." You'd whisper back, arms circling around his neck and bringing him down into a slow, sweet kiss, your fingers tangling themselves in his hair, noses occasionally bumping and causing the both of you to breathlessly laugh. The moment was sweet, full of love and sweet promises.

And he would have been, had he been given the chance, had the summer not taken him away from you before he got the chance to fulfil any of those dreams. He would have found a way to buy you that ring, would have worked extra just to get that house on the beach, would have taken care of you and your children the best he could, made sure they would never have to wonder where they'd get their next meal, never feel any fear towards him like he felt for his own father. You just wish he had the opportunity to do all of that, wish the two of you hadn't met in Hawkins, wish he hadn't been driving to meet you that day.

[the-masked-ram]

Blurred Lines- Chapter Two

CW: NSFW, College AU, Roommate AU, Dom/Sub Undertones, Gambling, Friends with Benefits, Enemies to friends, Hate sex, Impact play, Mild Breath play, Drugs, Alcohol, afab! reader

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Chapter Two: Ground Rules

The apartment was amazing honestly. It definitely needed cleaning; it looked like an upscale bachelor pad. There were old food containers, dirty clothes lying around, and you didn’t want to know when he last dusted. But it wasn’t too much for you. You’d roomed with people, paid for places that were far more of a dump than this. You could see everything waiting for you underneath the mess.

The visit to the apartment made you eager to sign the lease. You couldn’t figure out why Touya seemed so happy with it. If he could afford a place like this, couldn’t he afford a maid service? But you wouldn’t question it anymore. You couldn’t afford to. This was your golden ticket to surviving college.

Two weeks later, after signing your lease, you were moving in. Heavy boxes weighed your arms as you climbed the stairs over and over. Your new roommate was nowhere to be seen after letting you inside, doing no more than pressing your shiny new key into your hand and walking off into the depths of the apartment. A glare found its way onto your face quickly. The only hope you had of moving the larger items was that Bakugou and Kirishima had offered to help.

You couldn’t let them help any more than that, despite their offers to help you finish. Your peace of mind would have forced you to thank them by buying food or paying them for their time, neither of which you could do right now. So, with a tight smile you waved them away as they reluctantly loaded up and you finished moving the boxes up far too many flights of stairs yourself.

By the end you were exhausted. Sweating badly despite the shorts and thin tank top you wore. However, all you could think of was how you were now moved into your new place, you were home. You had a key of your own, and the boxes filling your new room gave you a sense of renewal. Like this was a fresh start. With a deep breath you started the slow process of unloading your clothes. So right now, it was just you and some music to keep you company as you put stuff away until it was time for work. It wasn’t until an hour had likely passed, and you were far into unpacking, singing at the top of your lungs and still relatively poorly dressed in those cheeky shorts and that small tank top, that you heard the clearing of his throat. You started, blinking as you glanced over to Touya leaning lazily against your doorframe. His eyes lingering on your legs.

His gaze didn’t move, though he had to notice your attention on him. It lingered like a burning flame, stroking across your exposed skin. It caused goosebumps to rise and your stomach to squirm. Your bare foot hooked around your ankle as you tried to catch his attention another way. You cleared your throat and slowly, so achingly slow, his blue gaze flickered up your body, you duck your head nervously and murmured, “Ah, Todoroki. Sorry, was I loud?”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Alright, first thing, call me Touya, I fucking hate my family name.” He shoved off the frame and stalked into your room, you immediately stepped back as he said, “Next thing, we should go over some house rules and a schedule for when you can and can’t do things.”

He didn’t answer your question, but you wondered if perhaps the fact your music had been cranked up to an ungodly level had been exactly what prompted his desire for the ‘rules’ talk. You shivered in front of him, but it wasn’t from fear, it was from the way his eyes wouldn’t leave you. It was from the way they seemed to be snagging your soul and ripping it out through your chest. He was too much to look at like this. You couldn’t be this close to him. It felt like all the air was taken from the room. Like he was taking up the entire space. So, you did the only thing you could do, you nodded desperately, eyes wide, unable to glance away from him for a second. Unable to even blink. “Fucking cute,” he mumbled with an appreciative smirk curling his pierced lips.

He turned on his heel and left, only stopping long enough to glance back over his shoulder at you and tap his knuckle on the doorway. Once he was gone it was like a crushing weight on your chest was swept away too. You gasped in air greedily. Geeze, what was it about that man? Touya seemed to exert this oppressive pressure whenever he was in the room. You were never able to look away nor directly at him, or get near him, and he liked to push your boundaries in the most delicious way.

A way that had your thighs squeezing and your walls fluttering. Slick lined your panties, and you hated it, hated that somehow knew just how much you lusted for his gaze despite the way it made you nearly turn inside out. You also dreaded the fact that you now needed to face him after making such a fool of yourself. He was sitting on a recliner when you walked into the living room, one foot brushing the floor while the other was flung lazily over the arm. Scrolling through his phone with a look of disinterest, he glanced up once you entered, but took his time giving you his full attention, as he started typing something. You weren’t as irked as when he hadn’t been there to help unload. Though you weren’t sure if you had the right to be upset about that. He had never said he would do that. Perhaps you should feel more upset now, especially since he’d called you out here to talk to you. But also, this gave you a moment to observe him. It gave you a moment to get used to his presence without feeling suffocated.

So, you perched on the edge of the couch, waiting for him to finish, and glancing around at the sparse living room.

“You look like you’re about to take off at any time, like you might break. Like a little porcelain doll,” he let that word sit and roll over your spine, until you finally chanced a momentary glance at him. “Relax, babe. Nothing bad is gonna happen.” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, but avoided looking at him directly for too long, which only made his grin turn into a lopsided smirk. He knew just like you did that your moment of bravery was a bluff. His eyes raked your form with languid heat, his tongue slipping out to roll over his lip ring. You wondered how that tongue would taste? Immediately balking at how eagerly your lust laden thoughts had turn salacious. “Alright, little thing, you said you work Monday for six hours and then another ten hours the rest of the week spread out. Otherwise, it’s just your night classes?” the way his tone turned sharp and business-like had you snapping to attention, focusing on his words intently. You nodded, “Yeah, and I can cook your dinner ahead of time on nights I may be gone, to you know have some homemade pre-frozen meals, in case you didn’t want to order.” Your hand rubbed across the flesh of your thigh over and over, dimpling the flesh. Touya’s eyes drifted downward to follow the movement with a lazy intensity you didn’t think was possible. Your fingers curled into your palm and your nervous tick stopped almost instantaneously. He chuckled before turning back to the matter at hand. “Well, aren’t you helpful?” he patronized. “That’s very sweet. But I figured you’d make me lunch for every day of the week, and then three to five nights a week you could do dinner based on your schedule. I don’t eat breakfast.” Your eyes darted to the side only to then slide towards him under lowered lashes, hoping to shield yourself from the way he was staring at you, and nodded, “Ok. And I’ll do your laundry and keep this place spotless.” His grin stretched, “Don’t promise things that are impossible, babe.” Sighing, he leaned his head back on his shoulders before fixing you with a harsh and serious gaze. His relaxed posture changed, everything in him stiffened and he narrowed his eyes at you. There was something in him that changed from a relaxed predator to a dangerous beast. He was vicious right now, whatever he said next, he wouldn’t accept no as an answer. “W-what?” you asked, fidgeting. “Now to go over the rules. These are blanket rules and will affect both of us. Always knock-on bedroom doors and bathroom doors before entering, first one up makes the coffee, label your food if you don’t want it eaten, if you break it you replace it. This one is my personal rule for you, don’t come out of your room when I have a party,” he nearly snarled the last one and you saw a glimmer of how dangerous Touya could be if you crossed the line. You blinked, your jaw working around silent words trying to find an answer but unable to at the finality of his tone and the restrictions it put on you. “Why?” you asked. You didn’t argue, you just wanted a reason. You couldn’t argue with the way he stared at you, his blue gaze squinting, and his lip curled in a sneer. “I will give you a day’s notice before I hold a party at least, and if you need something all you have to do is text me,” he said, completely ignoring the question.

But you knew he heard it, had seen the way his jaw flexed at the single word. He didn’t like being questioned when it came to this. All you could do was swallow, the cool way he led the conversation had you nodding in agreement. His pleased expression made you realized what you had just agreed to. He’d have complete control over the household if you kept acting like a meek little mouse. “I knew you were perfect for this. Perfect to be here with me,” he murmured, the smirk pulling at his lips again. His eyes swept over you once more, lingering in places that only lover’s should indulge in. Once again, the stiffness left his muscles, and he was back to reminding you of a lazy cat. A big one though, like a lion out in the sun just waiting for it to cool off before it hunted. Before it became an issue and made a meal of you. Touya was dangerous, you just didn’t know why. Embarrassment flooded through you, nerves took over, and quickly rushed from the room. He cackled behind you and the sound followed you all the way to your room. Just who was Touya? Maybe it was time to keep an eye open on campus.

-Taglist- @arvandus

---- If you want to read up to chapter 4 of Blurred Lines (before it's all rewritten), want to get early access, or want some special original content check out my patreon! Link

[thebatfamfanatic]

Six Times He Met Her

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, guy taking advantage of a minor in first chap, mention of underage smut in fourth chap, making out?, violence, mentions of blood/injury, main character death, adult language, angst

A/N: First thing I’ve written on Tumblr!! Tell me if anybody likes it, or if I broke your heart. And yes, I know I’m evil.

1-

The first time he saw you was around 2:30 in the morning. Jason was squatting on the edge of a rooftop in Gotham, surveying the dark scenery below him.

Somehow, there was still plenty of traffic on the dirty streets, plenty of cars honking and driving around. Jason always wondered who the fuck needed to be somewhere at 2 am.

He fiddled with a loose seam on the Robin uniform he sported each night, hunting down the assholes of Gotham (pretty much 70% of the city) and putting them in jail, where they belonged.

At 16, Jason Todd technically should have been in bed, maintaining a healthy sleep schedule and doing some rich kid shit during the day. Of course, his adoptive (long story) father, Bruce Wayne, richest playboy in Gotham, employed him to be his little tweety bird sidekick at night, so here he was, at the rendezvous watching the streets. yay. A scream came from an alley nearby. Jason stood, stretched his legs, and leaped down from the roof onto the ground. He pinpointed the alleyway where the noise was coming from and raced into it. A girl, about his age, had been cornered by some bitch dude who thought he could take advantage of this girl. Not on Robin’s watch.

Before the girl could scream again, the guy was on the ground and Jason was helping her up. She shakily took the hand he offered her and looked him in the eye. Shit, she had gorgeous eyes. Jason froze for a second, lost in her beauty, before clearing in his throat.

“Hi. I’m Robin, uh, you probably knew that. Are you okay, ma’am?”

He hated the squeak that came out of his mouth. He sounded like a fucking 5 year old. The girl raised her eyebrow. She had recovered rather quickly. “You don’t have to call me ma’am. I’m not some rich-ass royal whatever from Britain.” Jason liked this one. Sassy, but just so. He inquired where she lived, and she gave him the address. With his grappling hook at the ready, Jason pulled her closer to him. She jumped at the sudden closeness, but seemed to enjoy it. Maybe? He didn’t know shit about girls.

Jason shot the hook, propelling them up in the air, and landed on a rooftop. They continued this routine until he got in front of her house. It was still several seconds before he released her waist.

She started to walk towards her door, before stopping.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Sorry, what?” Jason blinked.

“I thought you were smart, Robin. Its my name, dumb ass.”

Then Y/N disappeared into her house. Jason stood there foolishly outside on her front lawn for a while, thinking about the girl he had just met. She was unlike anyone he had ever met, and he realized 10 minutes later that he had forgotten to ask about where her family was and everything.

Oh well. Bruce would be expecting him anyways. Jason shot his grappling hook and started home, still dazed from the encounter.

2-

The second time you guys met was two weeks later. Jason was just Jason Todd, a normal 10th grader living in the shadow of his (adopted) older brother Dick Grayson. Nobody paid much attention to him, and he didn’t really mind. Mostly Jason focused on getting A’s in class and then retreating into the library until Golden Boy’s after school clubs were over.

That is, until you walked in. It sounded as if you had just moved here, and for a minute, Jason felt a little sorry for you. I mean, Gotham wasn’t the greatest place to spend high school, or any grade, in his opinion.

You looked at your schedule from across the hall and then up at the locker next to him. For a second, your eyes met his and Jason was content. Lost in those brilliant colors. And then you looked away and started walking towards him. He realized just in time maybe he should stop leaning over your locker as you stopped next to him.

“Hi. Y/N. Just moved here. Looks like we’re locker neighbors.”

Jason was about to reply with “I know” but restrained himself. “Jason. Nice to meet you. Congrats on moving to this shitshow.”

He managed to not grin like an idiot as you laughed. The sound was music to his ears, like beautiful bells. God, he was being sappy.

“It’s not much of a shitshow when you’re here.” Ooh, she flirts too. Jason smirked as you opened your locker and dumped your stuff inside, pulling out the things you needed for your first class.

The first bell shrieked just as you closed your locker. “See you around, Jason.”

The small smile you gave him made his day, and he almost forgot to get to class. Yes, you were certainly one of a kind, and yes, Jason wanted you. The question was how to get to that point.

3-

You guys had a couple classes together, and frequently sat at the same table during lunch, so it wasn’t long before you were quick friends with Jason. However, the next notable time you met was a little while after he got your number.

Jason was laying on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr as he thought about ways to ask you out.

Y/N, would you grant me the honor of going out with me? No, too Romeo and Juliet.

Hey, want to grab ice cream? He had to make it clear what his intentions were. Then it wouldn’t be weird if he kissed you, right?

Oh, god, if he fucking kissed you….what would that be like? Before Jason could start fantasizing, his fingers were flying across the keyboard and he had sent a text to you. What did he do, what did he-

Hey, I was wondering if you’d like to see that new movie this weekend. It seems like something you would enjoy.

Hm. That was actually pretty good. Where did he come up with that?

Jason had just started inspecting his fingers for some kind of sign of being possessed by smooth-with-girls-syndrome when you responded. He looked up and read it quickly.

Sure, I’d love that! Thanks for thinking of me ❤️

A heart. You had put a heart at the end of it. Did that mean you knew it was a date?

Jason sighed. He certainly hoped so.

4-

The weekend date went good. By the end of it, Jason was sure you knew it was a date. The second one passed, and then the third. The third one was when you hesitantly pecked him on the cheek. The fourth was when he kissed you actually. It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was just enough for him to take you on a fourth date. An actual “will you go out with me on a date” kind of thing.

He took you to a restaurant in the fancy part of things. You two ate food that two broke 16 year olds technically shouldn’t have been able to afford, but Bruce helped Jason out.

Jason drove you home afterwards and discussed the topic of the upcoming summer during the car ride. What you were doing, where he was going. The entire time, Jason had butterflies in his stomach. He wasn’t sure how to act. Was he messing it all up, or were you actually into him?

Once he parked in front of your house and walked you up to the stoop, you looked at him. He noticed you were biting your lip nervously, and god, why did he think that was so hot? “My parents aren’t home.” It was the softest Jason had ever heard you speak, but he knew what you meant. He smiled gently, and kissed you again. This one was destined to last longer, and before either of you realized it, you had opened your door and you were leading him to your bedroom.

That night was one neither of you would forget, and by the end of it, Jason had officially asked out successfully.

5-

You and Jason spent a lot of time together after that. You met his older brother, Dick (who was very happy for Jason, too happy in his opinion) and his dad, Bruce Wayne. Bruce was cool, but very busy all the time.

By two months, Jason still hadn’t told you his identity as Robin, and he was running out of excuses. One day, you confronted him, assuming he was cheating on you. He tried everything, but he had to go out on patrol.

Jason left that night assuming you were broken up. The entire patrol, he wasn’t himself. Truth was, he loved you so much he was afraid of losing you. That had become his greatest fear. It was that night everything went wrong.

6-

You were out taking a late night walk. Down by the pier, a cold wind was blowing, and as you walked past warehouse after warehouse, you pulled your coat tighter.

You were affected as well, and confused about where you and your boyfriend stood. Did you guys just breakup? Did he love you? Did–

A scream echoed from one of the warehouses. You turned, afraid of stepping closer but afraid of leaving the person. Eventually, your curiosity won over and you climbed up several crates to peer into the window.

What you saw inside almost made you scream yourself. Robin, the hero everybody talked about, lay defenseless and bloody on the ground as a tall man-the Joker- whacked him over and over again with a crowbar.

You gasped, wanting to help, but you knew that would be foolish. You would just get in the way for a minute. Tears started to form in your eyes as Robin weakly cried out from the pain. He looked so…helpless.

Joker relentlessly beat him with the crowbar, and Robin’s mask began to come off. You rubbed the tears from your eyes just as the mask fell to the ground.

“No.” was the only thing that you could muster. Jason lay on the ground in the bloody Robin suit. Jason fucking Todd. There was your boyfriend, being beaten to death by the asshole of all assholes. That was why he kept disappearing at night, because he fucking protected the city!

You were mad at yourself for being so cruel to Jason without knowing what was really going on. You barely paid attention as Batman and Nightwing suddenly burst through the windows.

Joker laughed, and said something you couldn’t hear from the outside. Probably taunting Batman as he watched his apprentice get beat to death.

A fight broke out, Batman lunging at Joker as Nightwing rushed to Jason, laying broken on the ground. You had just enough time to duck as a Batarang came swooping out of the hands of the Caped Crusader and straight through the window you were looking through.

It was then you realized how close Jason was to death, and what you needed to do. The window pricked your jacket as you jumped through it, but you didn’t care. Gymnastics back in 6th grade helped when you landed awkwardly. Nightwing spun around, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that was Dick, which meant Bruce was Batman.

However, none of that mattered when Jason was half dead in front of you. Nightwing- Dick- made no effort to stop you as you knelt in front of Jason. “No, no, no.” You cradled his head in your hands, trying hard not to recognize how limp his body was, and how his chest barely moved as he struggled to breathe.

Jason’s eyes were closed, tears running down his face silently. You were crying as well, mumbling curses and things that made no sense.

“Please, don’t be dead. Please, I-I love you.”

You watched Jason make no acknowledgement he could hear you, watched him breathe once more. His chest rose and never fell.

You screamed and buried your head in his costume, not caring about getting blood on your face. Dick pulled you away wordlessly, out of the warehouse. You barely registered that the warehouse exploded behind you a few seconds later.

Dick let you sob into his shoulder for what seemed like hours. Him and Bruce exchanged a short conversation, both riddled with grief.

Six times you and Jason had met, and that was the last.

[sightoru]

—𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝

☆pairing: 1950′s Keigo Takami x Fem!Reader

☆genre: dark content. set in a 1950s AU. 

☆warnings: 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, misogyny, dubcon, one use of the word daddy (not in a sexual way), keigo fucks up readers car, car sex, keigo is a sleezy womanizer, smoking, mentions of alcohol, praise kink.

☆word count: 2.9k

☆ authors note: part one of my 1950s au! masterlist is here! if you recognize this, it’s because it’s a repost from my old blog! title credit: Great Balls Of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis

☆ excerpt:

So when Saturday comes around yet again -Keigo’s thin body leaning up against the hood of his car with a cigarette delicately sitting in between his index and middle finger- he carefully looks at skirts swishing past him and deciding just who will be worth giving his undivided attention to on a Saturday night. Touya has often commented that Keigo looks like a predator on the hunt in these moments; his golden eyes flashing towards anything bright and pretty that moves in his direction, his lips formed in an effortlessly handsome half smile and the way his face darkens for a brief moment -just a second really, so slight you’d have to know to look for it- when he finally settles on who his catch of the day will be.

Takami Keigo’s never been the type of guy that’s cared for much. Always been the type to have a sort of tunnel vision, the type with an attention span that’s as flimsy as the last remaining leaves on a tree just before winter comes to freeze them off. This is especially true for things that don’t have any sort of immediate benefit to him, hence turning to factory work instead of attending college, fucking every girl that throws herself onto him, and smoking packs upon packs of cigarettes just to chase the rush nicotine gives him.

He’s also never been the type that’s been hard to please, considering himself to be the type of guy that enjoys the simple things life has to offer. He’s a man that loves driving too fast down country roads in his BMW 507 (often comparing the curves of it to the curves of the women he fucks), the taste of coffee first thing in the morning, and how satisfyingly smooth a new tub of hair gel looks before his fingers are in it.

Keigo’s weekends are often spent running around town with friends he keeps mostly at arms length, chain smoking in public parks, showing off his car at the local car show, and scoping out his next easy fuck so he can brag to his friends his new body count. This usually happens late at night in the den of Tomura Shigaraki’s mansion, Tomura listening with ruby eyes dripping with fascination and Touya Todoroki watching him with a lazy half smile, a cigarette -usually bummed from Keigo- perched elegantly between his lips.

Easy being the keyword here. Women with waists accented by fit and flare skirts and doe eyes covered in mascara that’ll do anything to have Keigo in between their legs in the back seat of his car. He’s not a monster, by any means. Usually taking them to dinner or a movie or something that women tend to like before explaining to them that they owe him one. He usually doesn’t have to state this, most women are eager to give Keigo a part of themselves, but every once in a while Keigo has to thickly lay down his charm and gently coax someone into wrapping their legs around them and show him exactly how thankful they are that he paid for dinner that night.

It’s quick, easy and not complicated. Just how Keigo likes it. He’s a simple man after all.

So when Saturday comes around yet again -Keigo’s thin body leaning up against the hood of his car with a cigarette delicately sitting in between his index and middle finger- he carefully looks at skirts swishing past him and deciding just who will be worth giving his undivided attention to on a Saturday night. Touya has often commented that Keigo looks like a predator on the hunt in these moments; his golden eyes flashing towards anything bright and pretty that moves in his direction, his lips formed in an effortlessly handsome half smile and the way his face darkens for a brief moment -just a second really, so slight you’d have to know to look for it- when he finally settles on who his catch of the day will be.

This fateful Saturday, he decides it's going to be you.

You’re stunning, a personification of a summer breeze in July, white silk blouse and an emerald colored poodle skirt paired with Jimmy Choos. You’re not paying attention to what’s around you, looking incredibly interested in Bakugou Katsuki’s Thunderbird and the bright shade of tangerine it is (a shade Keigo’s always thought of as ugly, much preferring the bright cardinal color of his BMW) when Keigo knows that he can’t allow a snot nosed brat like Bakugou be the one to take you home tonight.

Keigo slowly walks over to you, not getting close enough for you to notice, but close enough for Bakugou to. He looks up at him briefly, shit eating grin fading from his face and all the fire draining from his eyes. There’s something unspoken in the air between the two men; something about respect hanging between them. Bakugou tries for a moment to hold Keigo’s gaze, to tell him with his eyes to fuck off but he knows there’s no point; knows that as soon as Keigo sets his eyes on something and makes it his theres no point in arguing or fighting. In that moment, Bakugou decides that despite your pretty face and magical figure you’re just not worth it. Keigo hears Bakugou mutter something, some sort of half-assed excuse that he needs to leave. It hurts Keigo briefly, peering into the sad look in your eyes as you wonder “did I say something wrong?” but if Keigo is the one that gets a piece of you tonight - a piece of your soul- then he supposes it’s really all worth it now, right?

Keigo moves in closer, all the smoothness of a cat about to pounce; eyes focused hungrily on you like prey. “Hey there, pretty thing.” he says to you slowly, hands in his pockets as he talks to you out the side of his mouth. He watches your nose crinkle, skepticism leak into your eyes as you stare at him with distrust. You’re smart, doubting him already and he just can’t have that now, can he? Your trust isn’t something Keigo should earn, it’s something you should already give him and Keigo’s not used to having to work for a woman’s attention.

“Hi.” you say dryly, your lips pressed in a thin line as you stare at him suspiciously. You’re looking anywhere else but him; eagerly trying to find a way out of the conversation. Hoping for someone to walk by and notice the uneasiness lying just beneath the surface of your eyes and grant you salvation.

He extends a hand to you, mouth opening with the intention of introducing himself; with the intention of offering to wine and dine you all proper. Before he can though, you’re leaving, a smile spreading onto your face- a smile full of relief - your body carrying you towards some girl he doesn’t recognize and linking arms with her.

Too bad for you, Keigo’s eyes are on you, and he always gets what he wants.

————————————————————————

You just bought this car. It’s brand new, not even a thousand miles on it. So why are you now stuck on the side of some random backroad, engine sputtering and refusing to start. You started driving around to escape, losing yourself on backroads surrounded by empty and open fields and abandoned barns. But this feels nothing like escape. It feels like a trap, your car choking and sputtering as the engine refuses to turn over and smoke pours out of it.

“Need some help there, sweet thing?” You hear a familiar voice drawl, lazy and uncaring and sounding how it feels to lay on your back in a pool midsummer. It’s Keigo’s voice. Calling out to you from inside of his BMW 507 and looking at you like he expects you to treat him like some sort of savior when the reality is he feels like a fucking nightmare. “You look a little stuck there, sweetheart, need some help?”

You hate this; you want to scream, to tell him to fuck off and go back to whatever hell he came from but you both know that you’re the one that’s stuck and he’s the one here to save you. You stare at him, distrust leaking into your eyes yet again but this time there’s nowhere to go off and escape to, nowhere to run and no one but him to save you. “Yeah,” you say begrudgingly, spitting the words out to him like venom. “I guess I could use some help.”

He laughs softly, shaking his head and peering at you through sun colored glasses. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m here isn’t it, babydoll?” The pet name disgusts you. Makes you feel like bugs are crawling over your skin and bile rises in your throat.

He parks his car in front of yours, tucking a cigarette between his lips and walking slowly towards you, his hands in the pockets of neatly pressed khaki slacks.

“Are you gonna help me or not?” you call out to him, the indignant stomp of your heel is loud against the asphalt.

“Dove,” he says, irritation bubbling through the softness of the pet name. “I will when I’m done smoking this.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “Ya know, mister-”

“It’s Keigo.” He interupts dryly.

“Keigo,” you continue. “I don’t really believe what the doctors say. No way in hell those things are healthy. They smell god awful.” Keigo rolls his eyes so hard you swear you could see it from space. You force a smile down and swallow down the giggles that threaten to escape your lips. After a few more drags you watch him flick the cigarette on the ground and put it out with the heel of his shoe.

Keigo pops the hood of your car, rolling up his sleeves as his skilled fingers tug and pull at parts of the car. It looks foreign and strange to you. You’ve always liked cars. Like the freedom they give you, the way it allows the wind to flow through your hair and how easy life feels behind the wheel of a car. But the inner workings of a car and how it works has always escaped your mind, you’ve always been satisfied leaving that to people who know more than you.

“Sorry, baby. This is even out of my reach.” He sighs, looking over at you sadly. “You’re gonna have to have this towed and have a professional look at it. I can give ya a ride home though.” He smiles at you, and he looks like the sun; bright and warm. If you weren’t so stupid -if you could manage to think of Keigo as something dangerous and more than just a horny 20-something and trust your insticts- you’d be willing to wait hours for anyone else to show up.

You’re stuck. And Keigo knows this.

You reluctantly nod your head, following him to his car and sitting your body down against the hot leather interior of his passenger seat.

Keigo stays parked on the side of the street, one hand lazily gripping the steering wheel with his head cocked towards you expectantly. You can’t keep lying to yourself, can’t keep denying the unexplainable attractiveness of him; the way the sun catches in his wheat colored hair and that his eyes look like two pots of honey. His yellow sunglasses hang low on his nose as his lips curl into a smile.

“Why aren’t you going?”

“Well gas is expensive, sweetheart.” He chuckles, bringing a warm hand to rest on the inside of your thigh. “I can’t just help you for free now can I? Didn’t your daddy ever tell ya that?” He leans over you, his body crowding yours and cornering you into the door. His lips ghost over yours, his breath hot against your lips. “I know a few ways you could help me out.”

His mouth pulls away from yours and moves down your neck, his hands hot and skilled as they slide under your shirt to paw at your breasts. He twists and flicks your nipples as your hips grind against the seat of his car, your body begging for any sort of friction on your cunt. His hands move from your breasts to your thighs, soft and tentative as he moves up your skirt. You gasp when his fingers toy with the wet spot building on your panties; the way he expertly finds your clit and begins to rub circles around it. Your hips buck towards him, a pathetic whine building in your throat that you refuse to let escape. You hate this, hate how good you feel; hate how your cunt throbs around nothing and hate how you don’t want him to stop.

His hand moves to grip your jaw, a low and dangerous chuckle escaping his lips. “Come on sweetheart,” he breathes in your ear. “Show a little eagerness. You owe me one after all.” His fingers push your panties to the side, his bare hand touching your pussy and moving your essence around. You whine into his ear, a pathetic little sound that makes him go crazy, makes him want to know the kind of sounds you’d make bouncing on his cock. His finger teases your entrance, going in ever so slightly just to come back out and tease your clit again. Heat builds in your core, a red hot coil building and threatening to snap as you buck your hips towards him.

“Baby girl,” he coos mockingly. “Do you want something? Come on. Use your words.”

“Kei..” you breathe out, spreading your legs as wide as you can. “Please I wan’ more.” Keigo pulls himself back far enough to smile at you, watching satisfaction spread across your features as he easily slides two fingers inside of you. You practically fall apart when he finds that perfect spot inside of you, hitting it over and over again until your climax washes over you. He rides it out perfectly, whispering how good you are for him in your ear.

Keigo drags you over to him, placing both your legs on either side of his body. “Come on princess, don’t you wanna make me feel good too?” You’re too fucked out and dazed to understand what he means. You nod your head dumbly, tiny fingers moving to the zipper on his slacks. He cock springs out immediately, long and thin and pretty, thick veins running down the sides; a drop of pre sitting at the top like a pearl. You lift your skirt, moving your cunt along your folds and soaking it with your essence.

He whines, grabbing you by your hips and impaling you. He’s so needy; wants to tell you he’s never tried this hard for any girl to notice him and he’s gotta make sure he gets a good fuck out of you. You start bouncing up and down, your head buried in the crook of his neck as you move, his hips bucking up into yours; his cock kissing your cervix with the prettiest grunts coming from deep in his chest. It’s music to him, the sounds escaping your lips and you’re drinking up every sigh that comes from his. Your mouth hovering over his as you both breathe each other's air. His grip on your waist is bruising as he sucks galaxy colored hickies along your neck and jawline.His hand finds its way to your clit, forcing another orgasm to rack through your body.It doesn’t take much longer for him to cum, following closely behind you with a few more erratic thrusts of his hips.

Keigo practically tosses you off of his lap, setting you back into the passenger seat and buckling you in. He doesn’t say anything to you after, you’re both quiet. The only sound between you both is the low voice of Frank Sinatra playing over Keigo’s stereo.

Keigo drops you off at your house, watching your frame walk up the steps and into your front door, not even sparing him a glance. He feels smug for a moment, sitting in his car at the curb, unlit cigarette in between his lips. He thought you would be smarter, that you could put together that just a little bit of water in your gas tank made your car stall. It wouldn’t have mattered if you did or didn’t figure it out, he would’ve gotten what he wanted anyways.

He’s a simple man after all. Since he doesn’t want much, it should be easy for him to get the things he does want.

——————————————————————

Keigo stares at a glass full of ice and whiskey; his fingers delicately wrapped around the expensive crystal glass as Tomura and Touya pass a cigarette back and forth. There’s something growing in his chest, something he’s not sure of clawing at his ribs angrily and rearing its ugly head. He’s not quite sure what this feeling is or why he’s felt it since he left you; all he knows is that glass after glass of whiskey will help drown out the strange pain.

“Keigo!” Touya’s husky voice breaks him from his thoughts, sapphire eyes burning into his with an intense curiosity. “Did you manage to get any pussy yesterday night?” He snickers along with Tomura, the both of them jostling each others shoulders with knowing grins; eager for a story to start.

Keigo swallows, whiskey going down his throat strangely slow and smothering the ugly feeling before it can threaten to overwhelm him again. He’s not sure why he wants to keep you secret; why he feels sick at the thought of telling his best friends what happened. “Sorry boys,” he sighs with a small frown. “I struck out yesterday.”

Tomura just sighs, says something along the lines of better luck next time as he smiles smugly into his glass. Touya looks at Keigo, cerulean eyes turning into stone as distrust clouds his voice. “That’s a shame,” he says after a long puff off a cigarette. “s’not like you, Keigo. Once you decide you want something, you always get it.”

Keigo laughs, a choked and dry sound. “Not this time.” He lights a cigarette and holds it between clenched teeth. “Not this time.” he says again under his breath, more to himself than his friends.

[zhongliologist]

In the Dark | Childe Smut

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Genre: SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!!

Words: 1.9k

*WARNING!! THIS IS PURE SMUT. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, IT IS UPON YOUR DISCRETION. PLEASE READ RESPONSIBLY* 

A/N: MERRY FCKN CHRISTMAS Y’ALL!!

It was never clean cut or anything.

Like shadows in the dim light, everything was vague and hazy—thinly veiled by smoke and meaningful lies. There was never an agreement, yet as soon as your eyes meet and fingers touch, such tumultuous desire could never be denied. Just like how the both of you play and reside underneath the shadows, you breathe deception and swallow bitter truths while honey and milk drip from your lips.

He, as a Fatui Harbinger, was an omen of chaos wherever he went. He craved anarchy and disorder; his blood curdling with excitement whenever cataclysm befell. You, on the other hand was a product of desperation; pushed further and further into the darkness until you wore it like a second skin. You were the eyes and the ears of anyone who paid you handsomely, knowing no loyalties except towards the golden coin.

Yet, in some arbitrary reason, the both of you knew instinctively what the other needed—thus no physical or verbal contract has been made; only consensual desire written on skin as lips touch with fervor.

And that is where you found yourself, dragged in a dingy room of a musty inn with deep dark blue eyes piercing through you with unbridled desire.

“N-Not here….” You whispered, as his lips left you in a moment of repose. “Childe!”

“But I want to fuck you right here, princess.”

He only chuckled darkly; your wrists pinned on the brick wall as he attacked your neck with a voracious appetite. Pressing his warm body against yours, you could easily feel your sobriety slipping away and replacing it with lust.

Yet if only it were that simple, the both of you would have never repeated this vicious cycle over and over again.

“That’s enough!”

In an impulse, you pushed him away; your nails leaving scratches on his neck like a decorated scar.

Your body was heaving with eyes crackling like thunder. The air between the two of you permeated densely; charging with heat and electricity despite the distance.

Childe could feel you preparing to strike, like a snake judging the right time to lunge at their prey. He knew that if he moved an inch, he’d be electrocuted in an instant. Yet it only made his eyes dilate and his blood rush faster.

“And here I thought I’ve had it easy,” he began; a smirk hanging from his lips. “Took you long enough, princess.”

You scoffed at him. “I’m not like you.”

At your words, he arched a brow.

“Oh?” He began circling around you, like a predator to a hapless prey. “You’re not like me…what a funny thing to say.”

Childe mused to himself, flicking his hand to toy with droplets of water between his fingers. You felt uneasy at his flippant tone, knowing full well that he was contemplating something, and usually it wasn’t to your favor.

“You, who would drag your fingers on my arm while nobody noticed. You, who would keep on denying me, but want me more than anyone. You, who keeps on saying we’re not the same? Wow.”

Completing a full revolution, he then stopped behind you. Even without seeing, you could feel him breathe behind your back; hearing the sound of water moving to the motion of his fingertips.

“Wha—!”

You tried to turn around yet the cold wet droplets slid up your neck, making you stand rigidly in place. You could feel water move against your warm skin; the contrast making you shiver—he wasn’t even touching you yet you were already at this state.

“Yet look at you now, princess. We barely started and you’re trembling…” his voice had a mocking playful lilt; both sexy and charismatic.

“Just say you want me.”

It was disgraceful.

Fueled by your wounded pride welling up in your chest, you jerked back and launched a series of electrical currents towards him. Childe easily dodged the first few, yet couldn’t avoid the rest. However, instead of jerking away like you expected, he dashed towards you; seizing your wrists and pining you back on the wall with a loud thud.

Even with your wind knocked out of you, you could feel electricity still coursing on your skin—continually emitting waves towards Childe who was stubbornly strong, despite being electrocuted.

“Aahhh….Princess…” he muttered, his lips trembling. “You really are something, aren’t you?”

Struggling to remove your wrists from his grasps, you grimaced at how he pushed even harder. In this game of push and pull, there is no clear victor. Yet victories aren’t the reason why you keep coming back. You knew there was something primal, something twisted running underneath your veins whenever Childe pins you against the wall like this; feral eyes blown wide.

“I never realized how much you’re in denial,” he grinned. “You’re not like me? Bullshit.”

Leaning close to you with lips mere inches from one another, Childe stared right at you with those ocean eyes, daring you to sink further into the abyss.

“We’re cut from the same cloth, Princess,” he purred, his knee pressing against your apex. “You like it when I fight back. You like it when I’m rough with you. You want me to fuck you hard and rough until you cry out in pain and pleasure. Am I right, Princess?”

At his words, you could only glare at him; not trusting to open your mouth when he was rubbing you at the right places.

“I trust your silence means yes,” Childe amused himself, his lips brushing against yours. “After all, people like us…we need to feel things quite intensely, don’t we? Mild, gentle, sweet…those things just don’t cut it anymore. You and I…we’re the same sort of crazy.”

His lips then crashed against yours ferociously, biting and nipping on your until they were swollen. Of course, you fought back. You bit on his lower lip until it bled, yet instead of pulling away, Childe on grinned and pried your mouth open with his tongue. You can taste his blood and the sheer lust he poured into the kiss. It was both intoxicating.

“You’re amazing, princess,” he purred to your ear, his knee grounding against your core as you rubbed yourself for some friction. “Ah, fuck. I’m so turned on.”

“C-Childe…!”

You tried to push him away one more time—or else this game would get boring, right? Yet he was prepared for it, catching your wrists and turned you around, effectively pushing you against the wall. You can feel his hard on pushing against your butt.

“Now, now. Be a good girl, princess. I’ll make you feel good in a sec.”

Releasing one of your hands, he relied on his weight to push you to the wall as he turned his attention to your already wet cunt. Pulling aside your garments, Childe’s fingers slid inside your underwear and began to rub your sensitive clit.

“W-wait…! Nmmhhn….!”

The sudden stimulation made you moan, closing your eyes as you felt your strength giving away at how much he was pleasuring you.

“Now, that’s what I wanna hear,” he whispered, sliding his tongue on your exposed shoulder. “Scream out my name next time, princess?”

With those words, he continued to make you feel good. Childe’s fingers brushed against your dripping wet slit, making it easy to circle around your nub. You could no longer keep your thoughts coherent; it felt so good that you couldn’t really think of anything else, much less stopping. The sound of his seductive humming kept you going, clouding your mind with a heady haze.

Eventually, he slipped two fingers inside of you. Long and agile, he could reach places you could never reach on your own. It didn’t help how he already knows which spots to send you over the edge. With just one push against your walls, your back arched, squealing in delight at how good it felt to be fingered by him.

“C-Childe….! Fuck…! P-Please…I—” you panted, turning your head towards him.

He smirked. “Oh? Is there anything you want, princess?”

You grimaced. You knew he wanted you to say it directly to him—to say how much you wanted to get fucked by his large cock which kept on rubbing against your ass. It would hurt your pride but—

He pushed his fingers against your sweet spot once more, interrupting your thoughts as you had to moan the pleasure he was giving you.

Pride, it doesn’t matter right now.

“C-childe….!! G-Goddamn it…mnnhmm…! F-fuck….me…please fuck m-me…nghh…! Hurry….!”

Smirking against the nape of your neck, Childe chuckled. “Well said, baby girl.”

With one of his hands, he pushed aside the rest of your clothing as he unzipped his pants. You could feel his hot and hard length gliding against your slit and coating it with your juices; the head of his cock brushing against your clit and making electrifying sensations throughout your body.

“S-stop…stop teasing me….aahhh—!C-Childe…! Childe…please…!”

“Here you go, princess!”

With one push, he slid his cock inside of you all the way to the hilt; making you keen against the wall. As soon as he was in, Childe began pounding against you as roughly and ruthlessly as he could. You could feel his length pushing all the way to the end, hitting all those wonderful spots which made you see stars.

“F-fuck princess…! You’re so fucking hot…!” he groaned to you ear as he nibbled on it, keeping his pace relentless as the grip of his hands to your waist.

He was already so addicted to this pleasure—of dominating you, of winning against you who kept him on his toes. He wanted you so much that if possible, he’d keep you as his. And of course, you were already his, as much as you had already ensnared him to be yours. It was toxic and definitely dangerous—but that’s where the thrill comes from.

“Mine,” he growled against your skin, filling every possible space on your shoulder with his marks. “You’re mine, princess…”

“A-ahh…! Ohhh! Childe…fuck…yes!! H-harder!”

He kept on pounding into you, his hand wandering to your breasts as he fondled them. You could feel him so intensely now, his hard cock rubbing your walls as he kept on stimulating your clit. Any moment now, you’d be sent to the edge.

“H-hey…can I come inside…?” he whispered on your lips, giving you small kisses here and there.

With half-lidded eyes, you caught his lips once more, giving him one long drawn kiss before replying. “It’s…fine…nghh! Fill me with your cum….!”

Definitely satisfied with your answered, Childe then pinched your clit without warning, surging pleasure throughout your whole body. You could feel your fingers and limbs tremble at how intense he was pounding into you; your head resting on his shoulders as Childe fucked you from behind.

“O-oh god—! C-childe!”

With one sharp thrust, you were pushed off the edge—coming so intensely as if you could faint from ecstasy. Your walls clamped hard on him, making him groan your name over and over again. A few erratic thrusts after, Childe finally came inside you as he bit your shoulder, filling you with his seed; the warmth spreading all over your lower half.

Falling down from both your highs, Childe began to lick the wound he had made on your skin. For some reason, he liked the taste of blood, more so yours.

“C-Childe…” you muttered, once again turned on even after you had just orgasmed.

He smirked. He knew right away what you wanted, and pushed his half-hard dick still inside you.

“You know princess, I think we’re really made for each other.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Do Us Part

Warnings: nonconsent and rape; oral, fingering, marital discord, cheating, spousal arguments and mental/emotional abuse, age gap (Peter is 24/25 and reader is 35/36)

This is dark!Peter Parker x 30s/’older’ reader and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find it hard to accept that not all good things last as you face the changes in your marriage, yourself, and your marriage.

Note: I wanted to write Peter again but also I’ve seen this nonsense about how 30+ writers are too old for fanfic which is dumb af. And I wanted to turn the age gap trope a little so that it wasn’t the reader being the younger one in the relationship. I label it older reader but I don’t think being in your 30s is old tbh (my bf is 36 so pfft). It was all just a conglomeration of circumstances that inspired a deceivingly sweet dark Peter and I hope you like it. Also it’s 7.4k so a bit of a longer read.

Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You walked slowly along the transparent shelves set into the pristine white walls of the cosmetics section. The department store was a haze of distant voices and the chirp of scanners as customers milled the aisles and waited their turn to check out. You whiled away your time looking at things you’d never buy as you waited for your husband to return from the men’s department.

You thought of the sparse make-up bag under your sink and the liners and shades you hadn’t used in years. They were likely expired and better tossed in the bin. You hovered along the crystal bottle of designer scents and stopped to test a particular blush-tinted fragrance.

You set the bottle back and peered over at the dark cubbies that housed the men’s scent. Even from there, you could catch a whiff of the heady scents as a younger man with reddish brown hair examined an angular vial of Dior Men. You suddenly felt out of place; a mid-thirties woman in her out-of-season clothes fantasizing about overpriced perfume.

Your husband's voice further cemented your reality as you fingered the golden cap of the Coach eau du parfum. Wesley rolled his eyes and flipped up the little plastic panel that hid the bold prices and huffed.

“I hope you don’t think I’m gonna pay for that shit,” he sneered, “what have you been doing? I was waiting for you.”

He waved a plastic bag as his lip curled and you pressed your mouth shut tightly and swallowed. The day began with another argument as he discovered the seared hole in his shirt and instead of blaming the crappy old dryer, he blamed you. Most of your clothes had been chewed up by the thing but you never complained.

“No, I was just… looking,” you teetered in your flats and glanced around. The young man at the corner display quickly turned to hide his nosy observation, “did you find some new shirts?”

“No thanks to you,” he sniffed.

“Oh,” you played with the hem of your tee and tucked your hands into your pockets nervously. You’d left him to look alone as you only seemed to irritate him and rarely took your advice on matters of clothing, “well, I thought I’d give you some space--”

“Stop acting so pathetic. Start taking responsibility for yourself. For god’s sake, you're almost thirty-six and you don’t know how to hang a shirt to dry?” He spun on his heel and snapped over his shoulder, “let’s go.”

You flinched but followed behind him as he strode away and you stumbled out behind him through the automatic doors. He tossed the bag into the back seat and slammed the door before flopping angrily into the driver’s side. You mirrored him daintily and squeezed your legs together as you tried to make yourself as small as you could.

“I told you about the dryer,” you said.

“And?” he started the engine and slapped his hand around the wheel, “call a fucking electrician or some shit.”

“Alright,” you shrugged as he stopped at the exit of the parking lot and checked his phone quickly.

“Benny wants to do a round of golf,” he peeled out and you grasped the door as your heart raced. You hated how reckless he was when he was angry. You hated how easily he got angry these days.

“Okay,” you picked at the fraying stitching of your purse.

“Don’t start moping,” he sneered, “I fucking work all week and I can’t go out and have a few rounds?”

“I never-- I didn’t say anything,” you murmured.

“You don’t need to,” he turned the wheel sharply as he cut off another car, “you sit at home all day and do what?”

“I work too,” you said.

“Uh huh, sure, if that’s what you call it.”

You ran your fingertip over the bleach stain on the knee of your jeans and said nothing. When he was in a mood, he would latch on anything until he outright exploded. You tried to think of when he changed, when he had stopped being the chill guy you met back in college. It felt like a slow trickle, small things you ignored until it was a mountain you could not see past.

You felt like crying but you’d stopped that a while ago. You existed in a purgatory of acceptance and helplessness. You wanted him to love you again, wanted to believe you could fix things. So you would keep trying. You would do better.

💍 

You picked out a large flank of steak and winced at the price. You had a special dinner in mind. It was Friday and the work week was done. You wanted a weekend without a fight and Wesley was always one for a nice big cut of beef. You hadn’t made him one in a while, your dinners were the usual repetitive drumsticks and rice or your homemade mac and cheese.

You continued onto the fish section and grabbed some salmon for yourself. You’d gained some weight and decided to cut out dairy and red meat if you could help it. The pile of produce in your cart reminded you of the extra jiggle around your stomach and thighs. You also grabbed one of those women’s magazines that advertised a regimen to help slim your figure. You only hoped you could stick to it this time.

With your weekly haul in tow, you wheeled up to the check-out and waited behind a young man who looked oddly familiar to you. Maybe that was the passing years. You always felt a vague glimmer of deja vu, more often a sense of forlorn nostalgia of what you would never have again.

As you stared thoughtlessly, he looked over and smiled. He bent in front of your cart and picked up a thin packet of seasoning. 

“You dropped this,” he said as he held it out and you thanked him before quickly snatching it and looking away. 

He paid for his large bags of chips and over salted pre-packaged meals and packed up at the end as you loaded up your own goods, the cashier sending them down the parallel belt. You swiped your card and tried to calculate the chunk of money from your last check. You thanked the clerk and sidled past the young man as he finished up.

You rounded the counter as he lifted his three bags. You looked up without thinking, the sleeve of his shirt tight around his bicep. You caught yourself staring and looked back down as you packed in the cans. 

It reminded you of Wesley; he’d also started being more mindful, he hit the gym after work and you noticed the little pudge that started just after he turned thirty was slimming out. It was that exact reason that made you notice the extra pounds on your own frame, not that you didn’t realise before.

The man left and you unfolded the little buggy you slid under the cart. You loaded your bags into it and dragged the cart behind you as you made an awkward exit with both wheeled trolleys. The compact fabric buggy was easy enough to fit on the bus if you stood.

You pushed the cart into the row of empty ones and continued across the parking lot. You rolled up to the bus shelter and checked the bus times on your phone. You dug out your strip of tickets and ripped one away. You leaned on the thin handle of your trolley and looked over your shoulder as you heard someone approach.

The man who checked out ahead of you put his bags on the metal bench inside the shelter as he sipped on a bright drink from the place just beside the grocery shop. He sent you a smile over his straw and you spun back to crane your head and search for the bus.

When the metal beast barreled up and cranked to a stop at the curb, the man waited behind you and as your wheels caught on the edge of the ramp, he reached around you and helped push it over the lip. You thanked him shyly and continued up. Usually you tried to keep the shop light on weekdays but you hadn’t really been paying attention.

You pushed your cart against the small barrier just behind the accessible seating and stood beside it, conscious not to take up too much space. The man stood just behind you two bags on one shoulder and the other dangling from the opposite elbow as he sucked on his straw. You grabbed the upright bar as the bus took off and watched the electronic banner for your stop.

A sharp stop had you veering back and you were caught by the young man as he chucked, “oop, you okay?”

“Yes, thank you,” you muttered and gave a sheepish smile over your shoulder.

“There’s a seat,” he gestured just behind you, “I’ll watch your stuff.”

“Um, no it’s… fine,” you gripped the bar tighter as the bus shuttled forward, “my stop is soon.”

You looked ahead of you and three stops passed before yours. You exited through the front with your buggy and headed down the sidewalk as the bus pulled away. You were exhausted just from your little sojourn and it wasn’t even two o’clock. God, you felt old.

💍

You had a salad chopped and tossed and the steak and fish laid out and seasoned. As you listened to your old Spotify list, the music dipped and the notification blipped over the screen. You washed your hands and grabbed the phone. You frowned as you read the lone message from Wesley, the only one you got from him all day.

‘Just finished at the gym, getting drinks with Andrew,’ you read and re-read the message as your heart fell.

You typed out a whole angry response and backspaced it all. You replaced it with ‘ok, have fun’ and blacked the screen. You shoved the meat back in the fridge and stretched saran wrap over the bowl of salad. You placed it on a lower shelf and closed the door, quickly swiping a can of the craft beer Wesley kept around.

You shut the light off in the kitchen and ignored the pang in your stomach as you cracked the can. You climbed the stairs as you sipped the hoppy foam. You put it on the night table and changed into the old butterfly pajamas you wore most nights and turned on the tv mounted against the wall. 

You turned on Netflix but hardly paid attention to the carelessly chosen movie. You sat against the headboard and down the bitter beer until the can was hollow and your eyelids were heavy. You slumped down so that your shoulders were at your ears and dozed off in the stiff position as the room moved with the colours of the television. 

The anger and alcohol shaded your shallow sleep and you hardly heard Wesley when he came in, only waking when your bladder was ready to burst and his snores rumbled in your head. You went to the bathroom and returned, wide awake, and stared at the shape of him in the dark.

You remembered when he used to kiss you when he came home, even when you were asleep, he’d wake you with the little pecks. You remembered when he was happy to come home. You remembered when you were happy. 

You swallowed the acrid aftertaste of beer and left him to snore. You went downstairs and curled up on the couch but didn’t sleep. You just stared at the shadows of the furniture until the sun rose.

💍

The next day, Wesley didn’t wake until after noon and when he did, he didn’t say a word to you. He took his coffee and sat at the patio table in the back as you stewed and cleaned the kitchen. You had nothing to say to him even if you felt stupid for being mad.

“Gotta head down to the dealership,” he said as he interrupted your scouring of the stove.

“The dealership?” you said after a moment, deciding whether or not to break your vow of silence.

“I told you on Wednesday, I’m picking up the car--”

“We talked about this. We should wait a little longer--”

“It’s my money and I got a great price,” he sighed, “just because you have to pinch your pennies--”

“We’re married,” you squeezed the foam sponge, “it’s our money. Don’t act like I don’t pay for anything around here.”

“Oh thanks, honey, so wonderful you paid for a five dollar steak,” he scoffed, “I’ll be impressed when you can make a mortgage payment on your own.”

“How dare you!” you turned your back to him and kept scrubbing, “fine, but not a penny of my money is going to that thing.”

“That’s fine, I’m selling the old one, that should cover most of it--”

“What?” you slammed your hand between the burner, “you said we would hold onto it so I had something to--”

“Then you can buy it from me,” he said venomously.

“I’m your wife,” you spun to scowl at him again, “I-- what is wrong with you?”

He tilted his head and squinted as he poked his tongue out along his lip. “Nothing wrong with me,” he shrugged, “what’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t--” you warned as you pointed a finger at him through the bright yellow gloves, “don’t do that… I’ve been trying and you just keep pushing me away.”

“Me pushing you away?” he rolled his eyes, “you were passed out last night when I got home. Maybe if you didn’t fall asleep before nine I could actually fuck you… or at least get it up if you worked on losing some of that cellulite on your ass.”

Your lip quivered and you sucked in a breath. You shook your head and turned around again. You ignored him as your hand shook and you continued your work, scratching at the dried-on food around the burner. His empty mug clinked onto the counter and you listened to his exit.

Fuck him and his new car. You were done trying with him.

💍

Wesley’s new car was shrouded in the shade of the garage as the old black Hyundai sat out on the driveway with a red and white “For Sale” sign on the windshield. Right after he got back from his extravagant purchase, he made the listing online and several perusers stopped by Saturday night but Sunday morning saw the car still there.

You sat by the border of stones around the garden as he drank beer in the garage and approached any interested buyers who appeared; although so far he’d only had two before noon.

You tucked your clippers into your apron pocket and dusted off your gloves as you stood. You were a little dizzy from sitting out in the sun and a glass of water was the perfect excuse to drown out the annoying sound of your husband’s voice.

You ignored Wesley as you trod through the garage and kicked your sneakers off on the mat right before the three steps up to the house. You went to the kitchen and put your gloves on the counter as you filled a glass from the dispenser on the front of the fridge. You’d given up everything but water and the slices of lemon were the only flavour you had.

You took the glass and your gloves and headed back. Wesley waited just at the bottom of the stairs as he glared up at you with arms crossed. You sighed and descended but he didn’t let you pass.

“What is your problem?”

“Are you really asking me that?” you hissed.

“You giving me the silent treatment isn’t gonna fix this,” he snarled.

“You know what you said so… I shouldn’t have to tell you to apologize,” you retorted and he stayed put.

“Is this about the car?”

“The car is just another thing,” you cross an arm around your stomach, “you think I couldn’t use it to get around, to get the groceries maybe? Or, I don’t know, maybe since you have such a problem with my home office, I could go out and get a ‘big girl’ job as you put it so many times--”

“Your mother has a car she never drives. You can just take her with you, two birds, one stone. I need to sell this to pay for the new one--”

“The one I begged you not to buy,” you huffed, “you could’ve waited a few more years until we were a little more comfortable--”

“Oh, wait? Until we have a kid and all my money goes to it,” he snapped, “yeah, I’m sure we’d have the money then--”

“You’d have to fuck to do that,” you stepped down the last step and pushed past him.

As you came into the sunlight and shielded your eyes, a figure stood by the garden, knelt just by your tulips as he felt the soft petals. You narrowed your eyes. You recognized him for sure. It was the stranger from the bus.

“Um, hi?” you croaked as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Hey, it’s… you again,” he chuckled softly as he stood, “I saw an ad for a car and… well, I’m getting tired of the bus.”

“Oh, uh, my husband,” you pointed over your shoulder, “you’ll have to talk to him.”

“Okay,” he smiled, “Peter,” he held out his hand and you stared at it. You introduced yourself and shook his firm grip.

“Like I said, it’s my husband selling the car,” you brushed by him and got to your knees by the flowerbed. “Unless you’re looking to buy some wilting pansies.”

“Hmm, I like the tulips better,” he said as he slowly inched away, “thanks.”

You sat back on your heels and he strode over to the open garage. You heard Wesley greet him and didn’t bother paying attention to the same pitch you’d heard all morning. You pulled on your gloves and wiggled your nose as it tingled. You really just wanted to keel over and bawl.

“Sold,” Wesley announced and you heard a clap, “all yours!”

“I’ll just transfer the deposit,” Peter said and a minute passed before he emerged again, the keys hanging from his finger, “Thanks, Wes.”

You hid your distaste. It used to be that Wesley hated being called ‘Wes’ but lately, he introduced himself to everyone as just ‘Wes’. He really had changed. You must have too.

“Hey,” you looked up and blinked as the sun made your eyes water as it shone around Peter.

“You bought it?” you asked as you yanked free a weed.

“Yep, but uh,” he glanced over his shoulder as the old car stereo Wesley used blared out a classic rock tune, “I… wasn’t eavesdropping but I heard some of it and… if you ever need a ride to the grocery store, I usually try for Wednesdays,” he tucked his hand in his pocket, “I don’t live too far and since we go to the same one--”

“No, no, you don’t have to do that,” you looked back to the soil, embarrassed.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he kept the keys dangling from one finger and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and slid out a card with some effort, “I’m supposed to have these handy but I never really use them.”

He offered the business card and you read his name above the title, ‘senior photographer’. You gave a half-hearted smile and put it in your apron pocket.

“Thanks,” you said, “I can manage.”

“You don’t have to though,” he said kindly, “but I’ll, uh, leave you to your gardening. Sorry if I bugged you.”

“You didn’t,” you assured without looking up, flattered that anyone cared enough to even offer help.

“Hey, Pete,” Wesley stopped Peter as he neared the car, “you can have one before you go.”

“Oh, no, I’m gonna be driving,” Peter argued.

“Pfft, it’s a celebration and one won’t put you over the limit,” Wesley insisted and handed him a dark bottle of craft brew, “come on.”

“I really should go--”

“It’s a Sunday, where do you need to be?” Wesley patted his shoulder and looked over at you, “hey, honey, you wanna see if we have any snacks for our guest?”

“I’m not hungry,” Peter said curtly, “really. Just the beer is fine.”

They disappeared back into the garage and you cringed. You hated that. Wesley only every acted like a husband when others were around.

💍

You waited a whole week before returning to the grocery store. You were short on everything and it was a reason to get out of the house. Your husband had made both your home and your workplace hostile.

It irked you that Wesley resented you working from home when a couple years ago he was so happy about it. Then, he’d been so enthusiastic about starting a family but when it didn’t happen right away, he grew disillusioned and bitter. Now, he seemed to have no interest in being a husband let alone a father.

As you packed up your spinach and bottles of Perrier, your cart rolled just a little as someone nudged it from the other end. You raised your head and hid your surprise and discomfort as Peter smiled back at you.

“I thought you said Wednesdays,” you murmured as you dropped a bag in your cart.

“I forgot eggs,” he held up the carton, “I guess I have good timing.”

“You do?” you asked as you pulled your cart forward and maneuvered around to push it out of the way of fellow shoppers. You bent to grab your trolley from beneath and he caught it as you unfolded it.

“I’ll drive you,” he said.

“I told you--”

“I’m here so why not? Save the ticket for next time,” he urged.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why does it matter? Why do I matter to you?” you asked.

“I don’t know, I… like helping people,” he shrugged, “what if I told you you were helping me? I have this horrible need to be the hero.”

“That will go away,” you muttered under your breath and he lifted a brow, “sorry, I… thank you.”

“Alright, let’s go then,” he collapsed the trolley and carried it easily under his arm as he cradled his eggs in the other, “I got the A/C fixed on the car too.”

“Mmm,” you hummed and walked with him out of the store. 

You crossed the parking lot and helped you load up the bags in the trunk. That car should have been yours; you’d made enough payments on it yourself but Wesley was such a stubborn ass.

You sat in the front seat as he slid into the other and started the car. He drove cautiously through the lot and you read the store signs as he came to the exit.

“How long have you and… the old man been together?”

“Um,” you glanced over at him and chewed your lip, “since college so… almost fifteen years now.”

“Fifteen?” he turned out onto the street, “really? I thought he was older than you.”

“Christ,” you scoffed, “don’t flatter me.”

“Really, I woulda said twenty-eight at most,” he said coolly, “wow, I feel so young now.”

“And I feel so old,” you grumbled as you crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice the wrinkle in the pink capris.

“Whatever, you’re not even forty,” he said, “and time has treated you well so I can only think in a few years… oh jeez, sorry, that came off weirder than I intended. Not that I meant for it to be weird at all--”

You giggled at his rambling as he rolled to a stop at the sign and peeked over at you in the rearview. You caught his eye and quickly looked away, “what?”

“Just… you have a nice smile,” he said as he turned down a side street, “and a nice laugh.”

“Thank you,” your voice was brittle at the genuine compliment, “you’re funny.”

“Am I? I wasn’t trying to be,” he took the same short cut you took when you walked home from the convenience store which was closer than the plaza.

“And nice,” you said as he came onto your street, “you really didn’t have to drive me. You could’ve dropped me at the corner--”

“No way, I was raised better than that, and if you think I’m letting you carry that all in by yourself--”

“Raised to help little old ladies?” you mused.

“Raised to treat ladies properly,” he corrected, “especially pretty ones.”

“I’m married,” your heart pattered as you dared to flirt back, almost in disbelief that he was humouring you, “and your lies don’t work on me, young man.”

“Not that young,” he insisted as he pulled into the driveway.

You got out and went around to the trunk. He handed you the bag with the bread and other light products, and loaded up with the other bags.

“You get the doors, let me do the heavy work,” he said and nodded you towards the house.

You went ahead of him and unlocked the door. You let him inside and pointed him into the kitchen. He placed the bags on the counter and stretched his arms and hands as you set yours on the other side. The muscles of his arms moved under his skin and you could trace the lines of his torso through his grey tee.

“So,” he took out the bottle of Perrier, “this going in the fridge?”

“What-- you’ve done enough.”

“Fridge?” he ignored you and pulled out the other.

You gave a long blink and threw up your hands in surrender, “yes, please,” you came around and reached in to grab the whole grain buns, “bottom shelf.”

You finished unpacking your groceries and took the empty bags from Peter and shoved them under the counter. You stood and looked at him nervously as he watched you, his fingers tapping on the granite.

“Do you want a snack? Something to drink? Water?”

“I’ll have a water,” he said and moved to leaned his elbow on the countertop, his side snug to the edge.

“Sparkling or--”

“Regular’s fine,” he answered

“Ice? Lemon?” you pulled out a tall glass.

“Just ice is fine… then I’ll be out of your hair,” he said.

Ice clinked into the glass and you covered it with the distilled water from the fridge. You slid it onto the counter and stepped back.

“Oh, I… actually, it’s a good thing I ran into you,” he said and took a sip, “my aunt, she likes to garden too but she got some bulbs she’s not gonna use, I thought maybe… maybe you would like some to fill in the holes?”

“What kind?” you asked.

“Some daffodils and some crocuses, I think,” he said, “I could bring them over next week after work?”

“That sounds like a lot of work,” you scrunched your lips, “you could probably just give them to a neighbour.”

“It’s not out of the way,” he said, “you want them?”

You stared at him and thought. He was nice. Too nice.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing, I… I’m sure you have a girlfriend you could be spending time with--”

“I don’t. Not anymore,” he interrupted.

“Oh, sorry,” you said, “I didn’t--”

“Like I said, I always wanna be the good guy,” he finished his water and the last of the cubes settled at the bottom, “thanks.”

“No, thank you,” you said as he set his glass in the sink and backed away, “really, you made my day so much easier.”

“I hope your weekend is better,” he said, “but…”

He didn’t finished and you folded your hands together as he hesitated by the hallway.

“But what?” you prodded.

“Nothing,” he shook his head, “nothing. I should go.”

“Okay,” you rubbed the back of your neck, “see ya.”

“Monday,” he confirmed as he turned to the doorframe, “I’ll bring the bulbs. Just after seven.”

“Right,” you slanted your lips and watched him go.

The door marked his departure and you turned to exhale and lean against the counter. You could still smell his rich cologne. Then you felt guilty. It was stupid to think he was doing anything more than being nice, that the flirting was anything but a joke, but still, you missed feeling that way and it should’ve been Wesley making you feel that.

💍

You squeezed the phone as you clenched your jaw so tight it hurt. Your eyes were wet and finally the tears were ready to start falling. The smell of steak filled the kitchen, another meal you wouldn’t eat. At the last minute, Wesley texted to tell you he was hitting the gym. Again. He was already late after a long meeting but promised he’d be home to eat.

So you waited for him to answer your furious phone call but got his voicemail instead. Your eyes narrowed at the bottle of wine and your chest knotted as the tone sounded.

“Wesley, this is it. I can’t do this anymore! I’m your wife. Do you even want to be with me? I can’t go on like this and now you won’t even answer my calls,” you snarled. You knew he had his phone on him as he no doubt had his Spotify work-out list on shuffle, “when you come home, you can sleep on the couch.”

You hung up and grabbed a stemmed glass from the cupboard. You filled it to the brim with Pinot Grigio but before you could taste it, the doorbell made you jump. You set down the glass and walked up the hallway. Just on the other side of the frosted glass was a silhouette. You opened the door and touched your forehead as you faced Peter.

“I totally forgot you were coming,” you breathed, “I’m so sorry. But thank you, you really didn’t have to--”

“Are you okay?” he asked as the paper bag in his hand crinkled.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I… thank you for the flowers,” you looked at the brown paper bag and he handed it over, another bag on his wrist; white with ribbon handles, “what’s that? You headed out for a date?”

“Um, no,” he said, “actually, I was just…” he pushed his fingers through his hairs, the reddish brown locks slightly curled with sweat, “I wanted to talk to you.” He looked past you and his warm eyes returned to yours, “Wesley isn’t home yet?”

“No, he won’t be for a while,” you backed up, “so you might as well come in. I have a steak no one’s gonna eat.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t be,” Peter said glumly, “and steak sounds good.”

He closed the door behind him and followed you into the kitchen. You put the bulbs at the back of the counter and grabbed the bottle, “wine?”

“No thank you,” he said.

You plunked down the bottle and took a gulp of your wine before you turned to plate the steak and your chicken breast alongside the fried asparagus and roasted potatoes. You set the filet before him as he sat on the stool and climbed up across from him at the long island.

“Thank you,” he watched you slide a steak knife and fork towards him and his gaze lingered on your lips as you took another thirsty mouthful, “this is for you, actually.”

He pushed the white bag over to you and you smelled the subtle floral scent rising from it. You put your glass down and pushed open the top of the bag and peeked inside. You shook your head and rescinded your hand as if you were slapped. It was the same perfume from that day weeks ago.

“You… how?”

“You don’t remember?” he asked.

You thought back on the day you wanted to forget. He was the other shopper in the perfume section, the one who sent you that sympathetic look as Wesley reproached you. You winced and grabbed your utensils. You cut into the chicken and shoved it in your mouth. You swallowed loudly.

“Take it back,” you sniffed, “I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it.”

“You do. He doesn’t deserve you,” he carefully sliced into the medium rare steak.

“Is that what this is? Some perverted joke? A challenge?” you dropped your fork and knife, “you think you can seduce the sad housewife and then laugh at it? Sow your wild oats?”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” he calmly put down the silverware, “I… what I didn’t say when I showed up is I just came from the gym.”

You frowned in confusion and wrinkled your nose. You took another drink of wine as you tried to understand.

“I saw Wesley,” he said as he leaned on his elbow and pulled out his phone with his other hand, “I didn’t wanna say anything but… you’re here beating yourself up over him and-- just look.”

He slid his phone across the counter and you looked at the screen. Your entire body felt heavy and your veins filled with ice. You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to wipe the sight from your eyes; the image of your husband groping a woman in yoga pants, an act she wasn’t deterring.

“I knew it,” you sobbed as the tears burst forth and leaked down your palms, “I knew it. And why wouldn’t he? I’m old, ugly--” you sniffed and pulled your hands away to wipe them on your pants. Peter held out a paper towel and you took it as you avoided his eyes, “thank you but I think you should go. I’m humiliated enough.”

“You shouldn’t be alone,” he said as he climbed down from the stool and rounded the island, “he’s an asshole. He’s blind.”

“Please, Peter, just leave me alone,” you slid off the stool and he caught your shoulders. You looked up at him as you dabbed away the streaks of sadness with the paper towel, “Peter--”

“I’m not leaving,” he said firmly, “he’s out there having his fun, so why don’t you have some of your own?”

“Peter, that’s-- that’s wrong. I’m too old for you. And… I’m fat and--”

“You’re perfect,” he reached up to frame your chin with his hand, “you’re gorgeous,” his other hand trailed down your arm and to your hip, “that’s the first thing I noticed about you…” he pulled you closer and tapped your ass lightly.

“No, I can’t-- I just want to be alone,” you pushed on his arms and felt the thick biceps as he flexed and kept you close.

“Well, baby, what I want,” he turned you so that you were pinned between him and the island, “is for you to put on that perfume… I want you wearing nothing but that.”

“Peter,” you pushed on his chest that time and the hard muscle wall didn’t budge, “Peter, go--”

“Baby,” he bent and scooped you up suddenly. 

His hands spread over your ass as he lifted you and crushed his lips against yours. You murmured in surprise and he placed you on the granite countertop. He parted from your lips as you sat up and he shoved your legs apart, inserting himself between your knees. He played with the bottom of the dress you’d worn in hopes of rekindling your dying marriage.

“We can go slow,” he tickled along your thighs and pulled back suddenly, “just a little at a time.” 

He leaned in as he reached around you and grabbed the small white bag. He pulled out the perfume and snaked his hand around your neck. He pulled you to bend over him and he kissed your neck just before he sprayed a puff of perfume across your throat. He stood back and took a deep breath. He put the bottle on the counter and his hands went back to your skirt.

“Peter,” you caught his hands as they crept under the fabric, “please.”

You tried to slide forward and he stopped you as he grasped your hips and held you in place. He bit his lip as his eyes glimmered up at you. He drew a hand away and took the glass of wine and held it before your mouth.

“Drink, relax,” he cooed, “forget about him.”

You stared at him and he brought your hand up with his and wrapped it around the full body of the glass. He nudged it to your lips and watched you until you drank from the crystal rim. He smirked and lifted your skirt as he bent to bury his head beneath the folds.

You gulped and choked on the wine as your skirt fluttered down over his shoulders. You felt his finger on the lace trim of your panties and winced. He squeezed your thighs with his other hand and nuzzled the crotch of your underwear. You tried to close your legs but he kept them apart easily.

He curled his fingers under the elastic of your panties and tugged. He pulled until you lifted your ass just enough for him to get them free and he guided them down your legs before quickly parting them again.

You set down the glass and almost overturned it, the last mouthful splashing up the side. You pressed your hands to the granite and peered down at the shape of his head beneath your skirt. You gasped as his cool tongue grazed your warm folds and delved deeper.

“Peter…” you wisped and closed your eyes as you tried to hide from your own shame.

He purred as his tongue flicked over your clit and you twitched. He caressed the crease of your thigh with his fingers as he lapped at your, his other hand pressed against your stomach until you fell back across the counter. You arched your back instinctively and his hand cupped your tit through your dress.

He blindly pulled until your chest slipped out and pushed the cup of your bra as he teased your clit with his tongue. He felt along your cunt with his fingers and shoved his index inside of you. You moaned as he pushed another inside and curled them as he suckled on your bud.

Your core burned to life. Your entire being was set alight after months without affection. You quivered in delight and fear. Your nerves stormed both out of guilt and hunger. It felt so good but you knew it was wrong. The scent of the perfume filled your nose as your skin grew hot.

He moved his hand in time with his mouth as he doted on you. His touch intensified as your legs bent around the side of the island and your fingernails dragged along the granite, your voice rising without thought. He pinched your nipple and you cried out as you came in a wave of sheer pleasure and grabbed his wrist as you tried to steady yourself.

He eased off slowly as you trembled in the afterglow, his lingering touch tickled along your legs as he pushed your dress up. He pulled you to sit up and lifted the fabric over your head and ripped your sleeves free from your arms. He tossed as side the garment and swiftly covered your mouth with his so you tasted your own arousal on his tongue.

He unhooked your bra blindly and slid it off your arms. You were intensely aware of your nakedness and as you brought your arms up to cover yourself, he forced them down and ran his hands over your bare torso. 

“Beautiful,” he said as he laid a trail of gentle pecks along your throat and chest, pausing to take a nipple in his mouth as he rolled the other between his fingers and sent a shiver through you.

He kneaded your sides and hips, his fingers danced along your thighs and he followed the path with his mouth, kissing and nipping your flesh. He lifted his head again as he took your hands and twined his fingers through yours. He tugged you gently until you slid off the counter and landed on your feet shakily.

“Baby, you’re so amazing,” he placed your hands on his chest and pushed them down his muscled torso and brought them back up beneath his tee shirt, “go on.”

He let you go and you continued to roll up his tee. He dipped his head and raised his arms to help you and you clung to the tee as it fell limp in your grasp. Dazed, he snatched the shirt from your hands and flung it. He once more pressed your hands to his chest and guided you in feeling the lines of his toned flesh.

He pushed your hands against the top of his jeans and leaned into you. He kissed your temple and whispered along your hairline, “turn around, baby.” He squeezed your ass and purred, “mmmm, please, I wanna see that ass.”

You blinked, dazed, and spun slowly. You caught yourself on the edge of the counter as your legs trembled and you heard the subtle zip. He kicked his foot between yours and pushed your legs apart as he led you back so that you were slightly bent against the island. He ran his nails down your back and gripped your hip with one hand as his other drew away from your skin.

You flinched as you felt his smooth tip against your ass and he rubbed it between your cheeks. You inhaled and held in your breath as his hold on your tightened and he angled his dick under your ass and grazed your cunt. He poked your entrance and pressed his chest to your back as his hand covered yours on the granite.

He slid into you and your voice fizzled in the air as he forced the air from your lungs. You pushed your head back and it met his shoulder as his other hand crawled down your front. He spread your folds with his fingers and swirled another around your clit as he tilted his hips and thrust into you slowly.

“Ah, Peter,” you slapped the counter and he shushed you as his hand left yours cold and his fingers stretched over your throat.

His motion picked up as the noise of him crashing into you echoed around the kitchen. Your eyes rolled back as he rammed into you even harder. You were on tiptoes as he was driven by the weak moans that leaked from your lips and your wet pleasure squelched around him. He pressed two fingers to your bud and rubbed until you squeaked and your thighs quaked around him.

“That’s it, baby,” he growled, “I bet you never cum like that for him.”

You whined and he sped up again. He pinned you against the counter so that the lip pressed into your stomach. He took his hand from your cunt and pushed your head down as he kept his other hand around your neck. He didn’t waver once as he fucked you.

“Touch yourself, baby,” he commanded, “I want you to cum again for me. I know you want to too.”

His thick breath warmed the air and grazed your back as he held you down and his hold on your neck tightened until silver stars rose in your vision. Your feet dangled against the tile and you reached down to play with your clit as it buzzed. It was only seconds before you were murmuring in ecstasy once more.

“Fuck, baby, can you feel that? The way your clinging to me,” he puffed as he slammed into you over and over, “he can hardly fill you, can he? Hmmm? Little man.”

You wheezed as he choked you and his other hand kept your head pinned. You heard a distant creak but could barely do more than keep your fingers moving as your heartbeat deafened you. You came again and croaked as your cunt squeezed him hungrily.

“What the fuck?” the voice broke your lusty trance and suddenly you were pulled away from the counter.

Your head lulled as Peter held it up and turned you around, his pelvis slapping against your ass as you faced your husband. Your mouth hung open as your blurred vision barely registered the scene and the deep grunts only got louder behind you.

“Look who’s here,” Peter rasped as he snaked his arm around you.

“The fuck are you doing?” Wesley sneered as your eyes closed and your ass rang with each thrust.

“What you can’t,” Peter snickered, “doesn’t she look so happy?” He grasped your chin and pushed his fingers into your mouth as he held your head up, “well, you into watching or you gonna let us finish, old man?”

[realcube]

you flinch during an argument pt2

navi | masterlist | part one

thank you to anon for this request

characters ♡ sugawara, bokuto & akaashi

tw ♡ cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt to comfort, hinted ptss, mentions of ashes/cremation & parent! reader in bokuto’s

KŌSHI SUGAWARA

♡ a grimace; the expression sugawara had been wearing for the last 10 minutes as he bickered with you in the kitchen while cooking his meal prep

♡ “i just don’t understand why you need to study for hours on end. at this point, i think you’re just making excuses to avoid me.” sugawara spoke, his incomprehensible tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he was being kind or condescending, or whether that last comment was supposed to be a joke

♡ “why would i do that?” you inquired innocently, keeping your gaze fixated on preparing your own meal. honestly, he didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention after elongating the conversation to no end. “exams are less than a week away and if i don’t pass then the last two years will have been for nothing. not that i’d expect you to understand.”

♡ you acknowledged that was a low blow, but your mind told you to just blurt out the first thing that you knew would make him shut up, and it unfortunately worked. 

♡ immediately feeling a wave of wave of regret wash over you, you shuffled over to his place at the kitchen counter, pressing your cheek to his arm to show affection before muttering, “sorry, i didn’t mean that. please don’t take it personally, kōshi.”

♡ usually an act like that would put an end to one of your silly squabbles but today was different

♡ out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something come flying towards you and — contextually — it didn’t take long for you to figure out that it was sugawara’s hand 

♡ that was enough reason your mind need to take the following course of action: your arms shot up to shield your the side of your face while your knees bent, brining you closer to the ground while your eyelids squeezed shut

♡ although after a few without the expected impact, your eyes fluttered open and you dropped your guard, allowing yourself a few moments to collect yourself before looking up at your boyfriend who’s demeanour had changed completely from a few seconds ago 

♡ now, his face was pale and his jaw was tight. as for his eyes, not so long ago they were faux-soft, now it was as if he had witnessed a crime; his pupils were constricted and his eyes were wide. he still stood tall as always but he appeared to be frozen in place, with his arm — that you had deemed a threat — looming above your head 

♡ you glanced up for a moment just to take a look, and upon noticing how his hand was cupped, you realised that his intention was to pat your head. it was a gentle gesture which he did often to show affection so you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ever assume he was going to inflict harm on you 

♡ “(y/n)!” he finally managed to choke out, hastily retracting his hand back to his side, “are you alright?” 

♡ you were unsure as to why he was asking such a question, considering that he didn’t even lay a finger on you, but you answered none the less, “i’m fine, are you?” 

♡ it was clear that you didn’t think much of your actions, which made sugawara even more concerned. if he were to be completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug and prattle on about how much he loved you and how he would protect you with his life for hours on end, but he knew that’d be an immature way to deal with such a situation so acting in an adult fashion, he stood at a respectable distance from you and spoke concisely

♡ “why’d you flinch?” he blurted out, feeling like a complete idiot as you replied almost immediately with, “i’m not sure.”

♡ your nonchalant and unaffected attitude made him wonder if he was making a big deal out of your simple action, since you didn’t seem that bothered by it at all. however, his morals spoke louder than logic and told him that he needed to resolve this issue, even you didn’t view it as such.

♡ “i swear i’d never do something like that.” was all he could think to say. so he decided it was best to stay silent right now, allowing you to head up to your room to study without another word spoken. 

♡ the next hour or so was spent trying to think of something to say to you. evidently, he was at a loss for words and all he could do was bury his face into his arms and mentally curse himself for being so confrontational over such a trivial problem

♡ eventually, he came to the conclusion that you’d probably want some space so for now, he’d allow you to study in peace and come out to talk when you are ready 

♡ but he is still sugawara, so expect there to be a place of sliced fruits outside your bedroom accompanied by a little motivational note 

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 

♡ arguments with bokuto only came once every blue moon since you both seemed to agree almost all the time, and even when you didn’t, bokuto would either apologise within less than a minute or simply oblige because he hates seeing you mad at him, or just mad in general 

♡ but sometimes — no matter how much he apologised — you’d still resent him for whatever he did, and a part of him just felt like that was so unfair. perhaps it was a childish thought, but why can’t you just understand that he made a mistake and move on? after all, he always learns and it’s rare that he makes the same mistake twice, so why are you still angry?

♡ plus, he always forgives you immediately when you do something wrong. he just wanted the same treatment and he realised this at the worst moment possible.

♡ “saying sorry won’t fix it!” you barked, wiping away the tears as they fell from your lashline. your skin felt like it was on fire but you paid no mind, just focussing on remaining stable and not losing yourself to a crying fit, “it’s gone forever now, i hope you are happy.”

♡ bokuto seeing you upset more than anything, and knowing that he was the cause of your tears only made things worse. he felt so worthless. 

♡ the only words combatting the voice in his head telling him that he couldn’t do anything right, were the ones reassuring him that it was simply an accident and that if he had known that there were ashes in that jar, he would’ve been more careful when walking around it. 

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you.” he muttered under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear. of course, you thought you had misheard him as you knew him better than to say something so audacious, “huh?”

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you!” he repeated, but this time he lunged forward to yell it right in your face so you’d hear him for sure. “there’s nothing i can do to fix it now, so why can’t you just forgive me?! i’m so sorry and i’d do anything to make it up to you yet you are still so fucking nasty to me! no one wants to be with a stubborn bitch!” 

♡ blinded by rage, it took him a few moments to realise that you weren’t standing as you were before he lunged at you, but rather you had stumbled backwards and were now on the ground with your hands raised in defence

♡ as much as he wanted to continue with his momentum and yell at you while you were down, his subconscious acted fist by outstretching his hand to help you up, “(y/n), why are y--”

♡ he cut himself off as something finally clicked in his mind, helping him realise that he was the reason you were on the ground. you must’ve flinched and fell backwards when he suddenly moved towards you, but why? i mean, it’s not like he was gonna hurt you. so were you just surprised? well, if you were just shocked by his movements you probably wouldn’t be defensive and appear terrified.

♡ upon coming to this conclusion, bokuto dropped down to his knees and shuffled towards you, evidently having calmed down as his cheeks were no longer red with fury and his eyebrows had separated. 

♡ “i’m so sorry.” he mused with wide-eyes, his blank expression and stare kinda scaring you as not even for a moment did he release you from his gaze.

♡ ‘sorry’ appeared to be the word of the day

♡ “i’m sorry too, kō.” you admitted, lowering your head and allowing the hair that hung down in front of your face to shield you from bokuto’s penetrating stare. “i know you didn’t break it on purpose, so of course you are forgiven.” you knew the feeling of frustration all too well, and you were ashamed that you were cause of it for bokuto.

♡ like magic, your statement pulled bokuto out of his trance and back to reality, where he was able to beam and throw his arms open to offer you a hug, “you don’t need to apologise. c’mere!”

♡ you hesitated at first, but there was truly nothing more comforting than the sight of bokuto’s bright smile and glistening cheeks under the golden sunlight which seeped in from passed the blinds; it was almost angelic. hence you found yourself leaning into his arms without a second thought, finding solace in the way his shaky breath tickled the warm skin of your neck

♡ though he didn’t say much in the moment, the image of you cowering in fear away from him will permanently be inked into his mind 

♡ but that’s not to say his words didn’t have an effect on you

♡ your kid grew up knowing endless forgiveness and tolerance from both you and bokuto, as whenever you saw your son’s golden eyes gaze up at you through a stream of tears, all you could see was bokuto, and all you could hear was him calling you a stubborn bitch 

♡ it was almost funny how your brain made that correlation, but rather than laugh, you simply smiled and kneeled down in front of your son, cupping his cheek in your hand, “it’s fine. i forgive you.”

♡ the poor boys glossy gaze flickered between you and the shards of the mug he had chosen for you scattered across the floor

♡ his teeth gritted together, presenting an expression of anguish which was only highlighted by both of his fist curling into balls before he lunged forward to throw his arms over your shoulders and bawl into your chest, “i’m so sorry!”

♡ you pouted, glancing between your son and bokuto who just stood with an awkward smile on his face, watching the scene while knowing full well that it was mostly his fault for entrusting a fragile mug to a four-year-old 

♡ although, it wasn’t as if you could stay mad at either of them; you love them too much

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ arguments with akaashi were rare. after all, communication is key in a relationship and he ensures that you both tell each other everything. hence you can see the irony in the situation where his order of transparency is exactly the reason you were so pissed off.

♡ “please tell me what’s wrong, dear.” akaashi almost whispered, trailing behind you like lost puppy while you stormed towards your front door in order to lead him out

♡ “i’m tired, i said i‘ll tell you later.” you groaned, feeling guilty for being so impatient with him but you truly didn’t have the energy to argue or explain how you were feeling tonight. really all you wanted was to get some rest and discuss everything in the morning but akaashi clearly felt like there was something deeper that needed to be unpacked first.

♡ “you say that but you’ll probably be too tired tomorrow as well.”

♡ you quirked a brow, taking a pause and leaning against your doorframe just as you were about to lock him out, “and so what if am? goodnight."

♡ “don’t be immature.” each word sharper than the last, they stung your eyes.

♡ “tomorrow, akaashi. love yo—"

♡ the next few moments were a blur. It was as though your body reacted on it’s own to seeing akaashi reach out towards your face, so without a moment of consideration, you found yourself jerking away from his touch; appearing alarmed while your heart rate skyrocketed for reasons beyond your knowledge

♡ once your mind was finally able to comprehend what happened and absorb the context, it didn’t take long for you to figure out that he outstretched his hand so he could tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, an act of affection he performs often yet it just happened to slip your mind

♡ akaashi yanked his arm back to his side, staring at his hand — eyes filled with disgust — as if he were presented with a murder weapon. despite that, his self-loathing was short-lived as he immediately inquired, “are you okay? do you need water?” he wasn’t really familiar with the ideal procedure he should take in a situation like this, so he used his judgment which told him that water was the solution to most problems, hence this should be no different.

♡ before you could deny his offer, he was already rummaging through his satchel in search of his water bottle, and once he found it he was quick to hand it to you

♡ after taking a few sips of water, you placed his bottle back in his bag and zipped it up for him, “thank you.” you murmured, not sure as to whether you should apologise or just play it off as if nothing happened. however, guessing by the dazed look in akaashi’s eyes, it would be safe to assume that these events have been permanently inked into his memory

♡ for the first time ever, he was truly at a loss. usually people would look to him when in trouble – or even danger – but now he was the threat, the cause of your stress

♡ perhaps it was because of how long you’ve been together, or maybe it was due to the fact you converse so often with him, but you could read akaashi like an open book. where others see a deadpan, dull setter; you see your boyfriend who is just in desperate need of affirmation from time to time

♡ a few minutes ago, you could’ve sworn you didn’t have enough energy to smile or communicate your feelings but here you were now, wearing the sweetest grin you could muster and humming in a honeyed voice, “i really do love you, keiji. and i’m not afraid of you either.” to emphasise your point, you leaned forward to plant a brief kiss on his cheek and tuck an imaginary loose strand of hair behind his ear, all while he stood speechless. not that you expected a reply anyway.

♡ “i love you too, dear.” akaashi finally uttered after an elongated period of silence.

♡ it was amazing how much you could tell simply from his eyes. his irises no longer vibrated as if they were pending an eruption, and pity behind his gaze seemed to have dissipated slightly. there was still somewhat of a glassy look to them, but he could say the same about yours.

♡ “goodnight. i’ll message you in the morning.” he smiled, mimicking the kindness in yours well as he turned around, promptly heading towards the bus stop with a final wave of his hand

♡ and he didn’t lie either. not only did he text you goodnight again, at exactly 6AM you received a notification from none other than akaashi himself reading:

♡ ‘good morning, sweetheart <3  how’d you sleep? i’m about to head to the shop, do you need anything?’

♡ although you denied his offer, he ended up buying you your favourite drink anyway

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can we get sequel to goose’s best friend??? That was fantastic

I'll have you all know I had this saved under the working title "Goose's Mom Has Got It Going On"

Goose's Best Friend, Part 2

Part 1

Summary: After finding out your flirty pen-pal was Carol Danvers, you have to see if you can look past your shared past and make it work.

Pairings: Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 2,897

A date with Carol Danvers was dangerous. There were about a million things that could go horribly wrong, all of which you ran over in your head as you walked to the cafe down the street, the blonde in question at your side. Neither of you had spoken a single word since you’d agreed to a coffee date after she’d shown up at your apartment and admitted that she had been the girl you’d been flirting with over the little notes on Goose’s collar.

When she’d first showed up at your door, you’d refused her.

You hated Carol Danvers, right? She was arrogant, self-centred, and an all-around pain in the ass. She was not a joy to be around and that had never, not once, been debatable. Not until that moment when, for some unknown reason, your heart skipped a beat when that too-familiar grin crossed her lips. You’d managed to ignore the feeling, tightening your grip on the doorknob to ready yourself to shut the passage that was open between you.

“Danvers,” you’d said, suppressing the shake in your voice. “Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Wasted my time? What do you mean?”

“We’ve never gotten along much, have we? Who’s to say that should start now?”

You’d tried to shut the door, then, but she’d put her foot in the way. “Coffee. Tomorrow morning.”

Uncertainty was something you thought you’d never see in the eyes of the army pilot. Yet, there she’d stood, gaze cast just past your head at the golden numbers nailed to your apartment door. It was something that made you momentarily forget just who it was. That show of uncertainty was comforting to you. It showed she’d changed. If she could change her attitude for just a moment then, who was to say she couldn’t change her attitude just a little more? You wanted to meet the Carol who had sent you all those notes.

“Tomorrow morning,” you’d agreed. Then you’d shut the door.

Now, here you were, walking into the small cafe at her side. She held the door open for you, an awkward smile tugging at her lips as she did. Your smile was just as forced, and the quiet thank you just as uncomfortable. Neither of you fit into the atmosphere one bit. It was calm, peaceful, and comfortable inside. You were wringing your hands together because you weren’t sure what to do with them, and your gaze was locked to the ground, unsure if you should be looking at Carol or not.

You finally stepped up to the front of the line, eyes travelling over the board quickly. Carol ordered a black coffee, and then her eyes turned to you. You cleared your throat hard before you ordered yourself a drink. When the barista asked suddenly, if it was together or separate, you and Carol both tensed up impossibly more. Her mouth opened and then shut once as she tried to find words. After forty-five seconds of tense silence, you whipped your wallet out.

“Together. Credit.”

You paid for both drinks and then moved to wait for them to be prepared. The entire time you waited, neither you nor Carol spoke a word. Instead, you bathed in the most uncomfortable silence you’d ever felt before in your entire life. Finally, the drinks arrived. You handed Carol hers, and she led you to a table in the corner. You both sat down, the silence reigning until you finally decided to clear your throat and be the first to speak.

“So, you have a cat.”

“Yeah. He’s a good cat. I got him from a friend,” Carol said, before sipping her drink. “Long story.”

You decided not to prod about that. You didn’t know her well enough to. Instead, you only nodded in response. You took to glancing around the room, something that gave you a reason to look away from Carol whilst not seeming awkward about it. There weren’t many other people in the cafe, and you didn’t stare too long at any one of them, lest they think you were being rude. Eventually, your gaze moved back to the blonde across from you.

“So, I guess this was unexpected,” Carol laughed tightly. “Me, I mean.”

“I was surprised. It was… unexpected,” you repeated.

“You don’t sound overly pleased.”

You had to stop and think about that. You’d been avoiding pondering just how you felt about this. When you’d worked up the confidence to ask your anonymous pen-pal to a coffee date, you’d been quite excited. Once you’d found out just who you’d asked on a date, though, your feelings had changed. You were still open to it, even if you were a little more hesitant. It made you nervous. Carol Danvers had never liked you and you’d never liked her. She’d spent every moment you’d ever spent with her teasing and taunting you and you’d never enjoyed it.

“Surprised,” you repeated. “We’ve never much gotten along.”

Carol shrugged. “Well, I wasn’t ecstatic either, you know.”

That was starting to sound a little more like the Carol you knew. Of course she would say something like that. For a second you had to stop and remind yourself of who you were talking to. You took a deep breath, focused on the warm drink in your hands, and then looked back up at the army pilot. She wasn’t looking at you, the comment she’d made obviously not having meant anything to her. That fact almost made you even angrier.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Carol only let her gaze flicker to you once before turning it back to whatever she was looking at behind you. “I mean it’s you,” she said nonchalantly. She looked back at you. “But I came anyway. After those notes, how couldn’t I?”

“You came anyway,” you repeated with a scoff. “And that was right after you overlooked the fact that it was me, right?”

Your voice had risen just enough that the table next to you was able to hear your conversation. They may have been trying to be discreet about it, but you know the young couple sitting across each other, hands clasped under the table, were listening in. Every once in a while their eyes would wander to your table, their conversation had dropped, and they were leaning a little closer than necessary. You wanted to give them a rude gesture with your hands, but then again, you wanted to give that same gesture to your date.

Carol rolled her eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then tell me what you did mean.”

“You’re not exactly my type, you know.”

“And what’s that mean, Danvers? I'm not exciting enough for you? Pardon me for enjoying peace and quiet.” You stood up. “You’re welcome, by the way, for the coffee.”

You stood up and left your half-empty drink on the table, making for the exit. Carol didn’t stop you.

*

You were half tempted to hang up on the woman that was on and on in your ear. You lay back against the arm of the sofa, tucking the cordless phone between your ear and your shoulder. You grabbed the TV remote off the end table beside you and turned the TV on. It was the time of day for your favourite TV show. The sound of the theme song caught the attention of your best friend. She gave a very loud shout of protest, making you scramble for the phone to pull it away from your ear.

“You are not seriously watching TV right now!”

“I am seriously watching TV. Miami Vice is on.”

“You need to go knock on Carol’s door, and-”

You snarled. After the whole incident with the notes on Goose’s collar, you’d been unable to not think about the sweet side of Carol. When you saw her or saw Goose, it’d been all you thought about. But you’d gotten over it. Once more Carol no longer elicited any feelings other than rage. That was how you liked it. There was no want for anything else. In fact, you made sure that Carol no longer took up more than five minutes of your thoughts. You didn’t need to let her rule your life like that.

“I won’t do any such thing. I’d rather date the Wicked Witch of the fucking West.”

“Well, pretty soon that’s going to be your only option left.”

“You should see me right now. I've practically fallen off my seat with laughter,” you said, sarcasm coating your words.

There was a knock at your door before she could answer. You didn’t even tell her as you put the phone down on the coffee table, turned the volume down on the TV, and headed for the front door. You opened it up without checking who it was, and your eyebrows furrowed momentarily when no one was there. When Goose strode into your apartment with confidence, though, you couldn’t help but smile. You shut the door behind him and picked up the phone once more.

“Sorry. I had to get the door,” you muttered, jamming the phone between your ear and your shoulder as you reached for the cat treats.

“Was it Carol?”

“It was not,” you said, rolling your eyes. “It was my new best friend.”

“New best friend?!” She hesitated a moment. “It’s that cat, isn’t it?”

You decided not to dignify that with an answer. You turned to hand Goose one of the treats, only to find that he’d disappeared. You glanced every which way to find him, but the tabby was nowhere in sight. His presence was announced when you heard the shatter from the living room. The red mug that your grandmother had given you for your birthday was in pieces on the floor. You scowled at the cat, but when he glanced up at you with wide eyes, you found you couldn’t stay mad at him. Instead, you grabbed the dustpan and hung up the phone with a quick apology.

As you swept the red pieces of ceramic off the floor, you glance up at Goose. Casually, he licked one of his front paws where he was sat upon the coffee table. You might have looked away, but you noticed the small piece of paper taped around his collar. There was some unidentifiable feeling swirling around in your stomach. You hadn’t talked to Carol since the incident in the cafe. You had half a mind to just leave the paper where it was, but you found, as you dumped the broken mug in the trash and tried to resume watching your show, you couldn’t get your mind off it. Finally, when Goose made to stride past you, you reached out and took it.

For a few long moments, you held it folded in your hands. There was no way there was any sort of apology on the small note. That was not the style of Carol Danvers. Not that you knew, anyway. You turned it over a few more times in your hands before you finally unfolded it, still hesitating before you read it. Goose was watching you as if he were interested to see what your expression might be. You glanced down at the untidy scrawl that belonged to your least-favourite neighbour.

Can we talk?

You wanted to write out a simple no as a reply. She didn’t deserve that, did she? Not when you’d already given her a chance after she’d been nothing but terrible to you for well over a year. You crumpled the note and threw it across the room, watching it fall on the floor beside the TV. With nothing more than a simple grumble, you reached for the TV remote, turning up the volume, sitting back, and putting all of your attention into the show in front of you.

*

The sun streaming through the window of your bedroom was blinding. You’d been too distracted to remember to close the curtains the night before, so it was unobstructed as it was amplified by the glass pane in your window and shone into your eyes. With a hand raised to protect your eyes, you glanced over at the digital clock that was sat on your nightstand. You’d slept in. That fact didn’t surprise you much. You hadn’t slept much.

Only when you let your head fall back against the pillows once more, eyes squeezed shut to protect them from the bright light, did you realize the second presence you could feel in your room. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, a little surprised that it was still present. You reached out with your left arm, using it to feel around the bed to find them. It didn’t take long, the other body being well within your reach. Your hand made contact so that you were both awake.

“You’re still here,” you mumbled, stretching as you turned your head to meet open eyes. “I thought you’d be gone by now.”

Of course, Goose didn’t answer.

He’d been your companion the night before when you’d been tossing and turning, unable to get your brain to stop thinking about Carol’s note that was still crumpled into a small ball on the floor in your living room. He’d sat by your side and let you stroke the fur on his head as your mind raced, your own thoughts not letting you get a good night’s sleep. Eventually, he’d even curled up next to you on your bed, a strong sense of comfort coming from the action. You ran a hand over his head.

“Thanks, Buddy.”

He mewed in response.

You decided it was well time to get up, so you rolled off the bed. The first thing you did was jump in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of the stress from the night before. When you emerged in sweat pants and a t-shirt, Goose was still on the bed. You waved for him to follow you into the kitchen. You started the coffee maker and went to the fridge to grab the creamer. There was none left. You groaned, the noise drowned out by Goose’s loud cry from behind you. He was sitting by the empty bag of treats.

“Yeah, me too,” you grumbled. “Wait here. I’ll go get more.”

So, you grabbed your keys, slid your feet into your shoes, and headed out the front door. You weren’t expected for Carol to be there, hand raised as if she’d been preparing to knock on the door. For a brief moment, she glanced behind you to take a look at Goose on the kitchen counter. Her gaze moved back to you. You were still a little shocked, not having been prepared for the early-morning (or, technically, early-afternoon) encounter outside your door.

“He stayed the night?” She asked.

“Mhm.”

It was a stupid response, and you cursed yourself for it right away. She didn’t seem to think twice of it. Her eyes were searching your face carefully. You didn’t know what she was looking for, but you were forcing yourself from blushing bright red. Judging by the absence of her usual smirk, she didn’t know that. You shut the door behind you, stepping around Carol to remove yourself from the closeness you’d been forced into.

“I was just going to get some coffee creamer. Did you want him back?” You said, shoving the keys into your pocket.

“No,” she said, twisting her fingers together. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh,” was all you said. “Why?”

“I wanted to talk.”

You could’ve slammed your palm into your forehead. Of course that’s why she was looking for you. She’d actually told you that she’d wanted to talk. You shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d sought you out to do just that. You supposed that’s what you got for not giving her a response. You nodded, finally, and leaned against the wall behind you, arms crossed over your chest. It was a posture that made you look closed off, and that was exactly what you wanted.

“I’m sorry for what I said the other day,” she began slowly. “And I’m sorry for the way I’ve treated you since I’ve lived here.”

Maybe you’d been mistaken. Maybe she did know how to apologize.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I’m sorry I stormed out.”

“I was just… I was hoping you’d give me another chance. Maybe lunch this time. On me.”

You sighed. “How many chances do you think you deserve, Carol?”

You’d meant to ask the question with anger. It had been intended as something rhetorical. What it came out as, though, was hurt and broken. At some point, it had become a sincere question. With eyes just as sincere, though, Carol took one single step closer.

“I just need one more.”

You hesitated. She’d hurt you. She was dangerous. But she didn’t want much. Just one more chance. You wanted to give it to her. You wanted to let her try and prove herself. That’s what your heart wanted. Your head was powerful, though, and rejected the feelings of your heart. It was screaming something different.

It was only one more chance, but you had to decide if she deserved it.

“Why don’t you start by walking with me to the store?” You offered.

Carol nodded. “I can do that.”

And, just maybe, that was the start of one more chance.

[alrightberries]

dante’s inferno

request: wassup homie could you maybe write a college au fic where levi and reader are rommies, then one day reader brings home an adopted cat without levi's prior knowledge? You could decide what happens next lol. Tysm 🥺

❈ pairing: levi ackerman x reader

❈ genre: fluff, semi-crack ❈ word count: 4k

❈ summary: college au. in which you bring a stray cat to your dorm and your neat freak roommate won’t let you keep it.

alternatively: a compilation of college shenanigans where you and levi are best friends who are bad with feelings (ft. an unamused cat named dante)

❈ trigger warnings: profanity. mentions of alcohol and smoking. implied smut.

a/n: this was supposed to be loosely based on the nine circles of hell according to inferno by dante alighieri— hence the title— but i did my research wrong so now it’s loosely based on the seven terraces of purgatory according to divine comedy. i’m keeping the title tho.

Inspired by this art by @ryuichirou on tumblr.

Permission to repost art was granted by the artist. Do not repost/edit the art without explicit permission from the artist.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

i. first terrace: pride

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why?”

“We’re not keeping it.”

“But why.”

Levi’s tongue clicks in annoyance. His eyes glance next you where the offending creature lay on your bed; tail curling, paws kneading at his your favorite fleece blanket. Quite frankly he’s a little offended when the little shit has the audacity to glare at him back.

He’ll never admit it, but his ego’s a bit bruised because the cat’s glare was slightly better than his.

“I said no,” he firmly replies, looking back to you. “It’s bad enough I have to share a room with an anarchist who has no respect for boundaries—“

“One time, I forgot to use a coaster that one time!”

“—and now you expect me to share a room with a dirty fur ball who does nothing but eat, shit, and sleep?”

“He’s a cat, Levi.” You murmur, scooping the cat into your arms. “And he has a name,” you give a nervous smile when you see your rommate grit his teeth. He feels a headache coming.

“You named it?”

“Dante is not an ‘it’.”

Levi makes a move to step closer but immediately stops when the ‘Dante’ hisses at him.

“Aw, he likes you.” You coo.

“Clearly,” he replies unenthusiastically. “Listen,” he sighs. “I respect your cat’s pronouns but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to stay. Or do I need to remind you of the mac and cheese incident?”

Okay, maybe he was on to something. If you got caught with a pet in the dorms you’d breach your third and final warning, and you’d be forced to dorm off-campus. The fact that you were still here after the mac and cheese incident was solely because Levi pulled some strings (aka asked Erwin, golden boy of the campus who owed him a favor, to pull some strings).

But you couldn’t just let Dante go. There was something about him that felt so familiar; something about his black fur, thin silver eyes, unamused snarl, and overall grumpy demeanor. Especially endearing was the way he’d grumble and pretend to be annoyed whenever you tried to cuddle him but would complain if you stopped.

You just couldn’t figure out who or what he reminded you of.

Maybe you would’ve figured it out too if you weren’t so distracted with watching Levi and Dante stare at each other. Your eyes dart back and forth between the grouchy cat sitting on your bed and your grouchy roommate sitting on his desk. Both were slightly crouched over with their heads tilted up in a show of dominance; they were engaged in what seemed to be a glaring contest, gunmetal irises unamused and mouths taut in a snarl as they protected their territory.

You sigh. You really, for the life of you, couldn’t figure out why Dante felt so familiar.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ii. second terrace: envy

Levi is not jealous. He’s not.

At least that’s what he tells himself as he sulks alone on his bed. His arms are crossed and his lips are in a pout, eyebrows knitted in distaste, occasionally glancing to your side of the room where you sat up on your bed. He’s sure whatever movie you chose to watch together is interesting and all, but right now all he could pay attention to was that stupid cat. Sitting on your stupid lap. Getting its fur stroked by your stupid hand. Getting all the love and affection his stupid self should be receiving.

It was him you should be cuddling, not Dante. Saturday nights were reserved for him and you, not you and a cat while he happened to be in the room. He’s been trying to make a move on you since high school and he can’t fucking believe he’s losing your attention to a cat. Sure, he’s always been too chicken to make a move and had to suffer seeing you get together with assholes— as per your type during your emo high school days— but this was a new low. He can’t wrap his head around the concept that he’s losing his longterm crush to a motherfucking cat.

When you coo at how adorable the fleabag was for what felt like the 50th time that night, Levi decides he’s had enough of the cuddle-hogging piece of shit.

Wordlessly, he crosses to your side of the room and lifts the cat from its perch, ignoring your protests as he sets it down on the floor and tells it to ‘scram, you little fuck.’ He uses a hand to dust your lap free of any microscopic cat particles Dante probably left behind before lying down his head down once he was satisfied. He grabs your hand to put it on his hair.

“Stroke.” He orders, eyes closing.

“What? No! You pushed off Dante.”

“He was in my spot.”

“You couldn’t have given up your lap pillow for one night?”

“One night?” He scoffs and turns to look at you. “You’ve been abandoning me for two weeks. That disgusting, tic-infested, rabies-carrying slob has no business sitting on your lap.”

“He’s not disgusting, you gave him a shower before you agreed to let me keep him. And I took him the vet to make sure he had all his shots. He’s clean, Levi.”

“Tch, good. Now throw him out and let him find someone else to freeload from.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” You guffaw. “You’ve been grumpier than usual. And why’re you being such an ass to Dante? He’s just a cat.”

“Don’t think he’s special in some way. I’m an ass to everyone.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re always extra mean to him?”

He doesn’t reply. His lips are downturned into a frown when he looks away with a click of his tongue, and you realize with a sigh you won’t be getting an answer from your cryptic roommate soon. Your fingers start mindlessly stroking his undercut when you get lost in your thoughts— a habit you developed through years of Levi using your lap as a pillow. He always complained the first few times you did it but you knew it calmed both him and you, and that it put both your minds at ease. Moreso Levi right now, apparently.

You’re keenly aware of how he seems to curl up into you the more you keep going. You watch as his shoulders slump down when you stroke the side of his face, and his eyebrows relax slightly. From your angle, you could even see the way his eyes close in content. Maybe even a tiny smile if you were being delusional.

Your lip twitches upward.

“Oh my god, Levi, are you jealous of a cat?”

“Shut up and play with my hair.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iii. third terrace: wrath

“You owe me a new cravat.”

You blink up at your roommate. “What?”

“You owe me a new cravat.” He repeats. He pulls from his pocket a white piece of fabric— barely recognizable— torn into shreds, releases it mid-air. It gently lands on your open palm.

“Wait, did Dante do this?” You ask, eyeing the slik in your hands.

“Unless you went feral in the middle of the fucking night and decided to cut up my clothes, yes.”

“Oh my god, Levi, I’m so sorry. I swear Dante will never—“

“You actually owe me three cravats,” he interjects. “The first two I overlooked since they weren’t that expensive but I draw the line here.” His lips are downturned into a frown, eyes poorly concealing his clear distaste. “This one’s my favorite and it was made from silk.”

You eye the fabric in your hands once more before nodding in understanding, setting down the once beautiful cravat before taking out your wallet. It was only fair that you paid him back; he was being more than generous with letting your cat stay and keeping it a secret, and now you wonder how many bad things Dante’s done that Levi’s overlooked or simply never brought up with you.

“Sure, I’m really sorry. How much do I owe you?”

Levi doesn’t say anything. Instead he pulls out his phone and types something on what you could only assume was google, most likely looking for the same brand of the cravat your cat had just torn into shreds. You weren’t entirely sure how much those could cost, but surely you could afford—

“What the fuck!” You screech, eyeing the page with very, very hefty price tags listed. Holy fucking hell where did he even get the money to buy something so expensive. Gulping, you nervously look up at your unimpressed roommate. You already knew he was taking it easy on you; his aura was the only thing intimidating, at least he wasn’t giving you the murder eyes. And even though he was a man of his word, you were thankful he hasn’t reported Dante.

Still, it didn’t change the fact that Levi looked pissed beyond belief.

“Uhm... can I pay you with a check that’ll definitely bounce?”

“You will pay me in cash.”

“Fuck, fine!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

iv. fourth terrace: sloth

Levi silently works on his desk. His laptop’s open in fromt of him, numerous notes from classes and books from the library surrounding him. The gentle sounds of clicking and clacking echoe throughout the room as fingers typed at the keyboard, eyes concentrated and lips pulled taught as he focuses on his task. He’s on a roll. He’s almost done with this part of his research, nothing could snap him out of this, he just needs to—

“Levi, when do you think Dante will come back to me?”

He stops typing and grits his teeth.

This is how it’s been the entire night. Ten minutes of peace before you ask him some stupid questions that could’ve been answered with common sense.

“Fuck if I care.”

“Do you think it was something I did?”

He resumes typing. “Yes.”

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

“No.”

“Even after all we’ve been through?”

“Still no.”

“I miss him,” you sigh. “I miss him so much.”

“Then you shouldn’t have left the door open.”

It’s been a week since Dante escaped the dorm and Levi doesn’t understand why you’re still so depressed about it. I mean, you only lost a cat that you loved and treasured and treated like family. Surely a week of moping around in your pajamas and eating nothing but chips and soda was catharsis enough.

He hears you shift in your burrito blanket, presumably to turn away from him so you can sulk into the wall next to your bed. Good. Now he can get back to working on—

“Levi do you think Dante-“

“Enough.” He grits, slamming his laptop shut.

“Where’re you going?” You ask, eyeing the way he hurriedly stuffs papers and books into his bag along with his laptop.

“Out.” He replies, grabbing his keys and his coat. “I can’t stand this shit anymore.”

Your head is burried in your blankets when he slams the door shut and all you could do was slump down because great. You lost Dante, and now you’ve royally pissed off Levi.

Great. Just fucking great.

Unlike your cat, however, your roommate comes back hours later, just before curfew. He doesn’t bother with a hello— he never does— and neither do you, opting to stay hidden underneath the sheets. Though suddenly, there’s a dip in the mattress followed by a pur next to your head.

Could it be?

“Dante?” You murmur, lifting your head from underneath your cocoon of fabric. Small black paws and silver eyes meet your gaze. “Dante!” Immediately sitting up, you pulled him to your lap, scratching his little head and cooing about how much you missed him as he purred and curled into to you.

Levi would never say it, but he missed seeing you smile at the little fleabag.

You turn to look at your roommate. “How’d you find him?”

“Asked around the campus. He wandered into another dorm building and probably thought it was ours.”

“Well yeah but... I thought you hated him?”

“I do.” He replies instantly.

“Then why’d you find him?”

“I hate him, not you.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

v. fifth terrace: avarice

“I fucking hate both of you,” Levi grumbles, staring at the dorm.

Towers of boxes lined his supposed to be clean dorm room. He had a hard time prying the door open since it was blocked, and he wasn’t even sure how the boxes weren’t blocking out the light from how high they were piled. Dante’s sat on a stack of box directly next to the door, purring and flicking his tail around. Levi squints his eyes and glares at the little shit.

“You especially.”

“Mrow?”

Levi’s day had been, with no irony or sarcasm at all, amazing. He got a good grade on his research paper; the guy in front of him at the cafe accidentally ordered an extra serving of (coincidentally, Levi’s favorite) tea and gave it to him for free; and he got full marks for the presentation he’s been worrying about for weeks. His class even got dismissed early so he had an extra hour for lunch. He knew you didn’t have classes, so in honor of his great day he thought he’d do something nice and take you out for lunch. His treat, of course.

But any trace of his good mood vanished when he went back to the dorms and got greeted to a room that looked like it came from an episode of Hoarders.

This is what he gets for trying to be nice.

“Levi! Is that you?” You called out.

“What the fuck happened?”

You laugh sheepishly— at least Levi thinks you do. He couldn’t see you beyond the hundred boxes that took up your shared room. He hears some rustling and the sound of things being moved around before finally your head pops out from behind a wall of brown, smiling at him apologetically before walking towards him (and tripping a few times).

“Remember when I said I’d order some toys for Dante as a surprise?”

Levi’s eye twitches. “Don’t tell me—”

“I accidentally ordered 10,000 instead of 10. Online shopping struggles, am I right?” You nervously chuckle at his pissed off face. Levi was not in the mood.

Your smile widens as you make twinkly gestures with your hands. “So uh... surprise?”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vi. sixth terrace: gluttony

The clinic is still when you first entered.

The harsh smell of alcohol and sterile metal makes your nose grimace, and the coldness of the thermostat brings goosebumps to your arms. Behind the wall, somewhete in the waiting room, cats are hissing, dogs are barking, and you could even hear the sound of birds angrily chirping and rattling their cages.

Dante cowers in fear on the silver table, and your heart aches. His ears are down and his fur’s standing on its ends, but you couldn’t comfort him. Not right now, at least. The veterinarian still needed to do a few more checks.

You gulp, “how’s... how’s Dante looking, doc?”

“Not good,” she murmurs. Her eyebrows are furrowed, and she takes a deep sigh as she eyes the information on the chart. “It’ll take months before he can walk properly again, possibly more if we don’t do anything about it soon.”

“Don’t tell me... is he—-”

“I’m sorry, my dear,” she sighs. “But your cat is heavily obese.”

The corners of your lips twitch down into a frown, and your palm is warm when you start to stroke Dante’s fur. He calms down a bit from your touch, less on edge but still guarded as he warily eyes the doctor’s gloved hands.

“But I don’t understand,” you reply. “I’ve been following the recommended diet you put him on, and I haven’t been feeding him anything other than the cat food and vitamins you recommended. How’s he still obese?”

“Well, we could look into other solutions, but for now I think we ought to look at whether or not Dante has an underlying health problem.”

Levi tunes out the chatter between you and the vet, bored eyes staring into nothing. He’s leaning against a wall and he’s watching the cat carrier. Your bag’s slung over his shoulders and your coat’s in his arms, and he was sure you didn’t even need him to be here for “moral support.”

He mentally scoffs. You probably just needed a chauffeur to drive you for free, and honestly, Levi would rather feel like a chauffeur than a coat rack.

His eyes make contact with Dante’s, and all the fear in the cat’s eyes is suddenly gone, replaced with a steely glare and bared teeth. A warning, one no one else notices but him.

Levi gives him a solitary nod, understanding what Dante wanted to say.

Don’t tell Y/N I’ve been sneaking to the neighbors.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

vii. seventh terrace: desire

There’s something about the buzz of alcohol and nicotine that makes Levi confident—- the liquid courage in his veins and the smoke in his lungs clouding his judgement. Perhaps that’s where he finally gets the balls to cross the room, drunken eyes on your equally intoxicated ones, before he pulls you in for a kiss.

The kiss starts slow, with lips just interlocking and lightly testing the waters. But then he feels your tongue make its way inside his mouth and your fingers weave into his hair to tug him closer, and Levi loses the last threads of inhibition he has. His tongue massages yours and one of his arm wraps around your waist, the other comes down to grope and knead your ass. He feels you walk backwards and your hand pulls at his tie, dragging him with you. Suddenly he’s trapping you against a wall, lifting one of your legs up to wrap around his hips so he could grind his crotch into yours.

Levi doesn’t expect his first kiss with you to be like this; messy and full of tongue and spit, full of fingers clawing at clothes and small grunts escaping your lips. He was hoping it’d be more romantic, with warm cheeks and fingers softly intertwining, shy kisses exchanged through little smiles.

But he’s not about to complain—- he’s wanted to be with you for years, and god he loved having you like this. Loved having you all hot and desperate, trapped between his firm chest and the wall. His cock is hard in his pants, and he just about growls when he feels you start to undo his belt, the fly of his pants coming down as you got on your knees and stared up at him with innocent eyes as you pull out his aching boner. There’s a cheeky grin your face when you pump at his length, and your tongue peaks out of your mouth before—

“Levi, are you okay?”

His eyes snap open, and he’s greeted to the sight of your worried face directly above his.

“Fuck!” he yells, and his forehead slams into yours when he flinches away. “Sorry, sorry” he quickly ammends when you yelp in pain.

He’s covered in sweat, he notices. Chest heaving, heart beating a little too loud for his liking, and he silently pulls the blankets over his cum stained boxers when you sit beside him.

God, he was really hoping you wouldn’t notice the fact that he came in his pants like a high schooler. And it was before dream you even got to suck him off. How much more pathetic could he be.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, m’fine, it’s just...” your eyes are distracted, staring off into space. Fingers trace his thighs, and you sigh. “You were having a nightmare,”

Levi blinks. “What?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you repeat. “Kept tossing and turning and groaning in your sleep. And you kept making these... funny faces,”

“...right,” he nods. Sure, a nightmare. A nightmare he never wanted to wake up from.

It takes about ten minutes to reassure you that yes, he was fine, don’t mind the way his cheeks are flushed, he was just... shaken up from his nightmare, is all. Then you’re back to bed, sleeping the night away, and twenty minutes later he’s on his way back to bed too; this time with a fresh pair of boxers and a content look on his face, all thanks to him finishing off his fantasies in the communal bathroom during his shower.

The door makes a quiet click when he shuts it behind him, and he freezes when he catches sight of Dante sat up on your bed, tail flicking behind him as he gives Levi a knowing look.

Levi squints his eyes, and he threateningly whispers, “you tell no one.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

epilogue

The half empty room brings a frown to your face, and all you could do was pout as you sealed up the last of the boxes.

“Why do you have to leave again?” you ask, and Levi turns around as he finishes folding the last of his clothes. He shrugs. “Cats aren’t allowed in the dorms.”

You owed him your entire college career, that much was sure. The RA’s found out about Dante, and Levi had taken the fall to spare you. He wasn’t required to move out since it was only his first strike, but he insisted on doing so so that Dante wouldn’t be alone, saying he already found an apartment nearby and he’ll never hear the end of it from you if he didn’t take Dante with him.

Bullshit. Levi had a soft spot for Dante, you knew that much. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. Though normally you’d be overjoyed to know that Levi really did secretly like the cat he pretended to hate so much, this time, you were just pissed. You couldn’t believe a fucking cat was stealing away the guy you’ve been in love with since high school. Sure, you were too much of a coward to ask him out, but he was basically your boyfriend already—- the entire campus knew you inadvertently had dibs on each other.

“Yeah but... do you have to leave me alone?”

“I asked you to come with me, and you said no.” He points out. “I still don’t see why when we’ve been roommates since we were freshmen.”

“It’s different off-campus!”

“How?”

“Because it’s like... it’s like we’re moving in together, y’know?” you reply. “And it seemed wrong to move in with you when we’re not even dating.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, handing you a spare key to what you could only assume was his new apartment. You glance between him and the key in your hands, and he rolls his eyes when he realizes that you still don’t get it.

“I know we’re doing this backwards since couples don’t typically move in before the first date,” he says before gesturing to Dante. “But we already have a son, and I know you’re his favorite parent. We can share custody until you can move in with me.”

You blink. “What?” Your brain stopped working when Levi referred to you as a couple, and you’re pretty sure your heart stopped beating too. At this point, anything he said went in one ear and out the other. He flicks your forehead.

“Hey— ow! What was that for?”

“You weren’t listening.”

“And you’re being a prick!” you grumble. “It hurts, y’know.”

He scoffs. “What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” he scoffs.

Your mouth moves faster than your brain, “I’d rather you kiss me.”

Wait. What?

Before you could go back on your words, Levi shrugs. Warm palms gently grab your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his. Your eyes widen and you momentarily freeze, brain definitely not working anymore. He hesitates when you don’t make a move, but then you’re shyly leaning forward, and that was all the confirmation Levi needs.

“If you insist,” he whispers, and suddenly your words die on your tongue when his lips interlock with yours.

alrightberries © 2020. do not modify or repost.

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[anniebrainrots]

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past. 

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warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n 

wc: 3.2k 

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,) 

===========

You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin. 

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off. 

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it. 

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him. 

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back. 

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come. 

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him. 

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it. 

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else. 

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations.  It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out. 

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?” 

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?” 

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him. 

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night. 

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed. 

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could. 

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age. 

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?” 

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.” 

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort. 

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time. 

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months. 

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies. 

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed. 

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused. 

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror. 

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had. 

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks. 

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down. 

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages. 

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace. 

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent. 

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?” 

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.” 

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind. 

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory. 

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.” 

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—” 

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?” 

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?” 

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’. 

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother. 

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.” 

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep. 

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment. 

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.” 

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops. 

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil. 

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him. 

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse. 

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks. 

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person. 

“I know.” 

[jinxdidnothingwrong]

fix you (1)

Viktor x fem!Reader; 2.9k; SFW (mentions of fighting/blood)

In order to avoid a group of enforcers on your way home, you turn into on of the undercity's many alleys, only to see something you probably shouldn't have. In an unfortunate turn of events, the night ends with you receiving an injury you cannot fix yourself, lucky for you, a certain tall golden golem seems to know someone who can.

A/N: hello there! This is the first time i'm actually releasing something i wrote! Its one of two or three parts to the series (can you tell i haven't actually finished it yet). I also have requests open, so feel free to help me get my creative juices flowing! Enjoy!

Today really wasn’t your day.

You were already in a foul mood after leaving ‘the last drop’. The place simply gave you an icky feeling after Silco took over, and it only got worse after he left. But you didn’t have much of a choice, it’s where your, well, business partners liked to meet, and who were you to ignore their orders? It was you who worked for them after all. But you were on your way home now and when you arrived, you could relax, maybe even finally get some sleep. And God did you need sleep. You’ve been working for days now, doing whatever you could, as long as you got paid. The little sleep you got in between jobs wouldn’t keep anyone alive. The last thing you wanted right now was trouble. So when you turned onto one of Zauns busier streets and where greeted by a couple of enforcers in the distance, it was the obvious decision to turn into an alley to avoid confrontation. Surely, taking this path would take longer to get home and therefor delay the long-awaited date you had scheduled with your bed, but you’d rather not be noticed by the enforcers. There was really no need to raise those demons this late in the evening.

Trouble avoided, successfully.

Or so you thought.

You came to a halt as you saw a familiar scene in front of you.

Poor kid, you thought, wonder what he did to get beaten up by three guys at once.

Then again, it’s not an incredibly rare thing to encounter down here. Hell – it would probably be more surprising not to see something like this when you’re outside (or inside for that matter). While you’re ready to shrug it off and continue on your merry way, it seems you haven’t gone unnoticed.

“Please… Help me”

Fuck.

You weren’t a righteous person. You really weren’t. You couldn’t be, not down here. If you wanted to survive you simply had to look away sometimes, and right now, was one of those times. It definitely was, so why you turned around just to stop right behind the group of men was a mystery, even to you. Maybe it was the lack of sleep clouding your judgement, or maybe it was the fact that the kid couldn’t be older than 13. You knew he had to learn how to survive on his own someday but three against one was a bit much.

“Hey” you tapped the shoulder of the man who held the boy by his collar.

He stopped, visibly loosening his grip.

“What” He growled back. The two men that stood at either of his sides giving you nasty looks.

“Well… I really don’t mean to disturb- “ “Then don’t”

They all turned their attention back to the boy. It’s not that you expected to have a civil conversation with them, but it was worth a shot at least.

You took a few steps back, pondering your next move. Whatever you did, you would get hurt either way and you really didn’t have the energy to think up some intricate plan. So, as you bend down to pick up a stone about the size of your palm, you lock eyes with the kid now laying on the ground.

Here goes nothing.

*thud*

God, you should really work on your aim. You were aiming for the shoulder or even the back of the one who seemed to be the leader, just to… ruffle him up a bit, get his attention just enough for the boy to run. So how you managed to hit him straight in the head was beyond you. But what’s done is done. The three men, now standing up straight, were much bigger than you had anticipated, and it seems that all the anger they had before was now focused on you.

At the very least, it seems the boy wasn’t stupid, he ran the second their backs were turned, leaving you to deal with the mess.

You only had a few options now, and fighting really wasn’t one of them, especially with the only weapon in sight being a stone that now lays behind your opponents.

Damn it.

You had to run. But where? Into the busy street where you came from? There are at least five enforcers waiting for the chance to arrest someone, anyone really. And even if you didn’t get arrested who knows what they’d do if one of them recognized your face.

That’s not an option.

All that’s left is to run into the other direction. And you did. Even if you couldn’t shake them off, they were bound to grow tired at some point. They had to.

You didn’t even know where you were now. You were too tired to process your surroundings and just ran left and right taking turns randomly just praying they’d stop. But they didn’t and now you’re stuck. Dead end. You look around frantically searching for a place to hide – nothing.

You stand with your back turned to the alleyway looking at the wall in front of you. There’s no way anybody can be this unlucky. Though it’s not a matter of luck, you suppose, you’ve brought this upon yourself.

There are footsteps coming closer and you brace yourself for the fists that will inevitably make impact any second now. There’s no way they’d kill you right? You turn around and look up, greeted by three ugly smiles – there’s no doubt in your mind now. They would. They definitely would kill you.

“Ugly bastards” you mutter under your breath and before you could even register his hand, you take a hit straight to the gut, smashing you into the wall behind you. You hunch over in pain.

“No fair. I’m usually really good at blocking those”. You look up only to be hit right in the face. You stumble to the side and fall onto the ground. There’s blood dripping out of your nose. Everything seems to be spinning. You wonder what would happen if you fell asleep now.

I probably shouldn’t.

You couldn’t - even if you wanted to, being forced awake by a foot to the stomach. You couldn’t help but notice that you’re only being hit by one of them. Maybe the others couldn’t fight. Maybe they got a weird kick out of watching.

You try sitting up a little bit, holding your stomach and leaning against the wall for support. You look up at the man on the left. He’s tall and blonde, kind of scrawny looking. He’s laughing at you, and it bothers you.

“What?” you scowl “can’t even do it yourself?”

He looks at you, clearly annoyed now. You know you shouldn’t provoke them. There’s nothing you could gain from it, but God did you find that face annoying. You were proven right once again as he pulls a knife out of his pocket. He kneels before you, face way to close for your liking.

“You stink” you whisper, not even enough energy to laugh at your own joke.

He traces the knife along your body. From your collarbones down to where your hands fell to the ground, back to your stomach. You try lifting your hand but it won’t budge. You’re completely beat.

“Any last words?”

Your throat is dry.

“Next time” you croak

“I should use a bigger rock”

You barely feel it now, but he’s pushing the knife into your side. You clench your jaw when you feel yourself leaning forward. It hurts, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been stabbed, maybe you’ve gotten used to the pain. Your eyes are only half open now. The sound around you is fading out.

“What seems to be the problem here?”

Your vision is blurry and the alley you’re in is turning darker by the minute, you can barely make out the enforcers that just entered. Great. If you had the strength to, you would roll your eyes – but you don’t.

Maybe they want in on the fun.

But to your surprise it’s not you they’re going for. They’re talking, but you can’t understand a word they’re saying. You shut your eyes for what you think is only a second, but when you open them again the three men are being handcuffed and led away. In front of you kneels another enforcer. He looks at you and then back at the others.

“What about this one? She’s injured pretty badly; we should probably get her some help.”

That’s unexpected. Who would have thought, they know how to care.

“Leave her. We’re here for them and only them. What happens to her is none of our business”

Now that’s less unexpected.

The enforcer gives you one last look before he stands up and follows the others. You like to imagine that the look he gave you was apologetic, but you would never know, and you didn’t want to think about it any longer. You were tired. Oh, you were so tired and now you could finally sleep.

“… need help?”

What?

“If you want, I can help you.”

Who’s there?

“You seem to be hurt. I can help you.”

Right, I’m hurt. I need help. I need to get up.

You slowly open your eyes trying to make sense of the situation you’re in. It takes a few moments for you to realize your laying on the ground. There’s something wet on your cheek but you can’t tell what it is. Maybe its blood, it could be water, or maybe it’s both. It doesn’t usually get very cold in Zaun, but you can feel yourself shaking. You grunt as you sit up and fully lean against the wall behind you. Your side hurts but you can manage. If you could just go home, you would be fine, you’re sure of it. You thought you heard someone speak, but it’s dark and you can barely keep your eyes open. How long have you been here? You have no idea.

“You are awake now! Do you need help?”

Your eyes shoot open, startled by the sudden voice. You look around and for a second you think you’re still dreaming. In front of you sits a robot, not the first you’ve seen in the lanes, but this one looks different. Less green for one. Your eyes dart down to its fists. They’re huge, it probably wouldn’t take much to crush you, or anything for that matter. Nonetheless, you didn’t feel threatened. More than anything, with the way it is sitting there, only a couple feet away, small legs sprawled out in front, it reminds you of a child. Its head is maybe half the size of its fists, tilted ever so slightly to the side, big eyes glowing back at you, as if waiting for an answer.

Right, you think, it is waiting for an answer.

“I… need help.”

“That is okay. I can help.” Its voice is rough and a little echoey, but you pay no mind to it. For a second, you even think it sounds kind of nice, like you could trust it, but you shake the thought, blaming it on the lack of sleep. There’s steam coming out of its back as it stands up, now completely towering over you.

“What… are you?” you’re having trouble understanding why this robot was trying to help you. It just doesn’t look like this is what it’s supposed to do. You’d assume it was used for mining, so what was it doing here, in the middle of Zaun?

“I am Blitzcrank. You can call me Blitz. My friends also call me Blitz.”

“Your… friends?” you croak trying your best to get up on your own, though it proves to be harder than you thought. You take the hand Blitzcrank has been holding out to lean on him for support – albeit reluctantly. You weren’t completely convinced, but you didn’t have a choice but to trust the odd steal golem.

“Can you walk?”

Now that you’re standing next to him, Blitzcrank isn’t that much taller than when he was seated. A weird choice, you note, they could’ve made him a little more proportionate.

“I can walk, but we should probably hurry, my stomach hurts like a bitch.”

“Have you considered replacing it with metal?”

“What?”

“It is humour! Viktor usually laughs at it.”

You shoot him a confused look. “Who’s Viktor?”

“He made me. He is like my father. Viktor will help you, too.”

“I don’t need... Viktor or whatever to help me. I just need to get home.” You appreciated the helping hand Blitzcrank offered to you, but you didn’t want to be indebted to anyone, and relying on the yellow golem was already stretching it.

“Okay.” If you didn’t know any better, you would think Blitzcrank sounded a little disappointed.

“Where is your home?”

“That-“ You look around, searching for anything that could indicate where exactly you were and where to go from here, but there’s nothing.

“I’m not sure.” You admit, your voice coming out much smaller than you wanted it to.

“That is okay. I will take you to my home. Sometimes Viktor fixes me. Viktor can fix you, too.”

You don’t say anything, just slightly leaning onto his fist for support. The metal hand is cold, but you don’t have enough strength to walk on your own. So even though the cold is harsh on your skin, you walk beside him, neither of you saying a word for the rest of the way. It’s hard for you to guess what time it is, generally the streets here are always lit, and from where you are, you can’t even see the sky. You take note of the fact that the streets are basically empty, the only sound coming from the tall robot beside you, who creaks with every step, and lets out the occasional puff of steam. The stinging in your side has only been getting worse since you’ve left the alley.

A wave of relief washes over you as the chunky golem leads you to a tall sliding door. It looks worn down, more like an old factory door than one that would lead to a home. Then again, what Blitzcrank would describe as a home probably differs greatly from you. The door screeches as he slides it open with ease. Inside, he leads you to an old couch in the corner. You sit down, glad to take some pressure of your wound. Only now do you have the time to fully take in your surroundings. The room smells like metal and oil. There’re notes scattered all over the place. You can barely decipher what the ones closest to you are saying. There’s a blanket lying next to you on the sofa and a small pillow that might fall of any second. You let your eyes wander around the rest of the room. There’s not a lot of light but a table in the corner catches your attention. Nothing on it but a small chest giving off a blue glow. You find yourself wondering if there’s something valuable inside of it.

Your eyes snap into the direction Blitzcrank is going now. Right there, with his back turned, stands a man. He seems to be working on something, slightly hunched over his desk, the same blue hue emitting from beneath him. You note that he’s rather skinny, the way he’s standing looks uncomfortable, all his weight put on only one of his legs. Now you notice the cane leaning on the desk beside him. Must be hard, you think, though you’re really not in the position to pity anyone in your current state.

“Viktor.” The tall robot is standing beside the man, presumably Viktor, trying to get his attention.

“I have brought someone.” It’s hard to imagine Viktor doesn’t notice the golem at all, it’s about double your size after all, but he isn’t reacting, completely consumed by the work in front of him.

Your eyes are growing heavy again, you’re not bleeding anymore, at least you don’t think you are, but judging by the amount of red on your shirt, you’ve lost a lot of blood. The walk here must’ve taken much more of a toll on you than you had thought. You’re exhausted.

Your eyes dart back to the opposite of the room. Blitzcrank is carefully extending a finger to tap Viktor on the back. The latter looks to the side momentarily, revealing goggles you didn’t notice before.

“Sorry Blitz, I’m working. What did you say?” You notice his accent, though you can’t tell where exactly it’s from. It’s nice.

“I have brought someone. Her name is-“ he stops. “I do not know her name. But she is hurt. She is bleeding.” You chuckle to yourself. He’s right, I never did tell him my name. Viktor yanks of his safety glasses and turns around, his eyes immediately finding yours. They’re pretty. The colour reminds you of the one Blitzcrank is. He’s pretty. The room starts spinning again as you watch him get his cane.

“What happened?” He’s speaking to you now, cane in hand, slowly making his way towards where you a seated.

“I was stabbed.” You stand up to make sure he can see the wound. The notion took more out of you than you thought and before you’ve even completely stood up you fall back to the ground. The last thing you see before everything fades to black is Viktor, dropping his cane in an attempt to catch you.

[jiangwanyinscatmom]

Jin Guangyao isn't cruel because he is nice sometimes! No... no... just no. He pretends to be a nice, sweet person to get what he wants, it is exactly why he got away with the killings and plannings for the Yin Hu Fu, YEARS AFTER JIN GUANGSHAN IS OUT OF THE PICTURE. He's the only legitimate Jin left old enough to take over the Sect, who the hell was gonna argue that when all relevant Jins were dead and Nie Mingjue was killed by the happy smiling pretty boy?

First example, he was actively friends with Xue Yang, there is no saying he was coerced into that one since he recommended him as a guest disciple and made creepy little jokes with him.

Jin GuangYao sighed, “I only turned around for a second and you stirred up so much trouble for me. I only had to pay for a bowl of dumplings in the beginning, and now I have to pay for his table, chairs, pots and pans, and even bowls.”

Xue Yang, “You’ll miss the couple of coins?”

Jin GuangYao, “No.”

Xue Yang, “Then why are you sighing?”

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t think you’ll miss the couple of coins either. Why can’t you try being a normal customer once in a while?”

Xue Yang, “Back in Kuizhou I never paid for anything I wanted. Just like this.” As he spoke, he casually plucked off a stick of sugared haws off a vendor’s pole. It might be the first time the vendor saw such a shameless person. As he stared open-mouthed, Xue Yang took a bite, “Besides, you can deal with the trouble of me wrecking a tiny stall, can’t you?”

Jin GuangYao smiled, “You little delinquent. Wreck stalls however you want. I wouldn’t even care if you burned down the entire street. Just one thing—don’t wear the Stars Amidst Snow robes and cover up your face. Don’t let anyone know who did it, or it’d be trouble for me.”

He tossed the money to the vendor

A.K.A: haha you're funny and I don't care who you fuck over but be sly and

Next example:

And so, Jin GuangShan sought after all those who imitated Wei WuXian in cultivating the ghostly path and gathered them under his rule. He spent a great amount of money and resources on these people, ordering them to study and analyze the structure of the Tiger Seal in secrecy so that they could replicate and restore it. Among them, not many achieved anything, while the one who walked the furthest was the youngest Xue Yang, recommended by Jin GuangYao alone.

Jin GuangYao was overjoyed. He accepted him as a guest cultivator and gave him high rights and freedom. The corpse training ground was an area of land Jin GuangYao specially requested for Xue Yang for him to research in secrecy, which meant for him to fool around however he wanted to.

He gave a whole torture playground for Xue Yang to use, he specifically asked for this from his own mouth, for Xue Yang to use and he would check in on progress. As for his morals:

Jin GuangYao’s tone was somewhat reproachful, “He Su gongzi is a respected cultivator, after all. How could you refer to him in such a disrespectful way?”

The cultivator laughed coldly, “I’ve already fallen in your hands. What are you keeping up the pretense for?”

Jin GuangYao responded with a kind expression, “You don’t have to look at me like that. I also had no choice. To elect a chief cultivator is an irresistible trend. What was the use of stirring up trouble and seeking arguments everywhere? I’ve already warned you again and again, yet you were determined not to listen to me. Under these circumstances, things are already beyond redemption. From the bottom of my heart, I, too, feel utmost pain and regret.”

He Su, “What was the irresistible trend? What was stirring up trouble? Jin GuangShan wanted to establish the position of chief cultivator only to imitate the QishanWen Sect in being the only one at the top. Do you think all the world is ignorant? You frame me like this only because I spoke the truth!”

Jin GuangYao smiled, saying nothing. He Su continued, “When you really succeed, all of the world of cultivation would see the true face of the LanlingJin Sect. Do you think killing me alone would put you eternally at ease? How wrong you are! We, the TingshanHe Sect, teem with talent. From now on, we’ll unite and never surrender to you Wen-dogs of another skin!”

Hearing this, Jin GuangYao squinted slightly, the corners of his lips curving up. It was the usual kind, gentle expression. Seeing this, He Su felt his heart skip a beat. At the same time, commotion sounded outside the corpse training ground, among it the cries of women and children.

He Su spun around, only to see a group of LanlingJin Sect cultivators drag inside sixty or seventy people all wearing the same uniform. There were men and women, old and young. Every one of them was a cross between shock and fear, while some were already crying. Both tied up, a girl and a boy kneeled on the ground as they wailed at He Su, “Ge!”

He Su was shocked speechless, his face instantly as white as paper, “Jin GuangYao! What are you doing?! It’s enough if you kill me—why drag my entire sect along?!”

Jin GuangYao looked down and fixed his sleeves, still grinning, “Weren’t you yourself the one who reminded me just now? Even if I killed you, I wouldn’t be put eternally at ease. The TingshanHe Sect teems with talent, and from now on, you’d unite and never surrender—I was quite frightened. After much thought, this was the only thing I could come up with.”

Among the group are children. That he did see and stare at gleefully as he lets Xue Yang decide to use all of them for corpse experiments. What does that mean??? Maybe that Jin Guangyao is also not in fact best uncle as he similarly was willing to kill Jin Ling who he "loved" as bait to try running away and is more than willing to use his "friends" for his own rise to power or to run away.

Examples of him enjoying emotionally torturing others as much as Xue Yang as a tactic:

Example 1:

“That’s not the way to go about things, is it? The TingshanHe Sect rebelled and schemed to assassinate Sect Leader Jin with all its forces before it was caught red-handed. How could that be called without a reason?”

The ones overhead cried, “Ge! He’s lying! We didn’t, we didn’t!”

He Su, “Utter nonsense! Open your eyes and fucking look! There are nine-year-old children here! Old men who can’t even walk! How could they rebel against anything?! Why would they assassinate your dad out of nowhere?!”

Jin GuangYao, “Because you made a mistake and committed murder, Young Master He Su, while they refused to accept Koi Tower’s conviction of you, of course.”

He Su finally remembered the accusation for which he was transferred to such a creepy place, “It’s all made up! I never killed a cultivator of the LanlingJin Sect! I’ve never even seen the person who died! I don’t even know if he was really a cultivator from your sect! I… I…”

He stammered for a while before eventually caving in, “I… I don’t even know what happened, I don’t even know!”

Yet, at such a place, nobody would listen to his protests.

Example 2:

Just as he was about to move, Jin GuangYao smiled, “HanGuang-Jun, it’s best if you take five steps back.”

Wei WuXian suddenly felt a small, sharp sting come from his neck. Lan XiChen lowered his voice, “Be careful. Do not move!”

Lan WangJi’s gaze landed on Wei WuXian’s neck. His face paled slightly.

An almost invisible guqin string, light and golden, was tied around Wei WuXian’s neck.

The guqin string was extremely thin. It was covered in special paint as well, making it almost invisible to the eye. Along with how disoriented Wei WuXian was, unable to pay attention to anything else, he didn’t notice it when it wrapped around his throat.

“Lan Zhan, don’t! Don’t back away!”

But Lan WangJi immediately walked five steps back without any hesitation.

Jin GuangYao, “Wonderful. Now, please sheathe Bichen.”

With a clank, Lan WangJi obeyed again. Wei WuXian raged, “Don’t ask for too much!”

Jin GuangYao quipped, “This is already asking for too much? Next, I’m even going to ask HanGuang-Jun to seal away his spiritual powers. What would that be called?”

Wei WuXian seethed, “You…”

Before he could finish, the sharp pain of flesh being lacerated came from his throat. Something dripped down his neck. Lan WangJi’s face was pale. Jin GuangYao said, “How could he not listen to me? Just think about it, Wei gongzi, his life is in my hands.”

Lan WangJi spoke one word at a time, “Do. Not. Touch. Him.”

“Then you know what to do, HanGuang-Jun.”

A moment later, Lan WangJi responded, “Yes.”

Lan XiChen sighed. Lan WangJi raised his hands. With two strong taps, he locked his own spiritual powers.

Jin GuangYao smiled, his voice soft, “This really is…”

Lan WangJi’s eyes were locked on them, “Let him go.”

Example 3:

Wei WuXian wouldn’t have had to be responsible for a life as heavy as Jin ZiXuan’s, and the things that happened later wouldn’t have had to happen.

Yet now, he finally realized even the reason behind culprit’s curse wasn’t to frame him. Even the cause didn’t have anything to do with him!

Such a fact was truly difficult to accept.

As he laughed, Wei WuXian’s eyes reddened. He mocked, whether at himself or otherwise, “I can’t believe it’s because of someone like you… because of such a ridiculous reason!”

But Jin GuangYao seemed like he knew what he thought, “Wei gongzi, you really shouldn’t think like this.”

Wei WuXian, “Oh? You know what I think?”

Jin GuangYao, “Of course. It’s quite easy. You’re definitely thinking about how unfortunate you are. In reality, you’re not. Even if Su She didn’t curse Jin ZiXun, Mr. Wei, you’d receive a siege sooner or later, because of some other reason.” He smiled, “Because that’s what kind of a person you are. At best, you’re the untamed hero; at worst, you offend people wherever you go. Unless all those whom you’ve offended lived their lives safely, as soon as something happened to them or someone did something to them, the first person they suspect would be you and the first person they seek revenge on would also you. And this is something you have no control over.”

Somehow, Wei WuXian smiled, “What should I do? For some reason, I think you make a lot of sense.”

Jin GuangYao, “And even if you didn’t lose control at the Qiongqi Path, could you guarantee you didn’t lose control sometime in the rest of your life? Thus, someone like you is destined to have a short life. You see? Doesn’t it feel a lot better if you think about it this way?”

He takes little time in using others hurt or their protective instincts against them, and is just as gleeful to see others in powerless situations in comparison to him as it still gives him a form of control to worm his way out of everything that has caught up to him.

Jin GuangYao, “Ge, every word of what I say is true.”

His tone was more than earnest. Ever since he captured Lan XiChen, he’d indeed been treating him with respect. At this point, Lan XiChen wasn’t able to turn against him yet. He could only sigh, “Sect Leader Jin, I have already said, when you went your own way to scheme such havoc at Burial Mound, that there was no longer any need to call me ‘Brother.’”

Jin GuangYao, “What happened at Burial Mound was an accident, a mistake. But, I can’t go back anymore.”

Lan XiChen, “What do you mean you cannot go back?”

Lan WangJi frowned slightly, his voice cold, “Xiongzhang, do not engage in excessive conversation with him.”

Wei WuXian reminded him as well, “Sect Leader Lan, do you remember what you said to Sect Leader Jiang? Don’t spend too long talking to him.”

Jin GuangYao, “Ge, listen to me. I don’t deny that I did those things…”

Lan XiChen, “How could you deny them? There are both witnesses and proof!”

Jin GuangYao, “And so I said I don’t deny them! But to have killed my father, my wife, my son, ge—if not because I had no other choice, why would I have done those things? Could it be that I’m really so out of my mind in your eyes?!”

"Your… wife…” As though he couldn’t say it, he immediately changed his phrasing, "Your sister, Qin Su, did you really marry her while knowing what blood relationship you had with her?”

Jin GuangYao stared blankly at him. Suddenly, tears rolled down his eyes. He answered with pain, “… Yes.” Lan XiChen took in a deep breath. His face was almost ashen. Jin GuangYao whispered, "But I really had no choice.”

With a sigh, Lan XiChen continued, “Third, do not try to avoid it and answer me—did you plan the death of Jin ZiXuan on purpose?!”

Hearing his father’s name, Jin Ling, who’d been holding Jiang Cheng, widened his eyes.

Lan WangJi raised his voice somewhat, “Xiongzhang, you believe him?”

Lan XiChen’s expression was complicated, “Of course I do not believe that Jin ZiXuan ran into the attack at Qiongqi Path by accident, but… let him speak first.”

Jin GuangYao knew he wouldn’t be believed if he denied it no matter what. He clenched his teeth, “… I indeed didn’t run into Jin ZiXuan by accident.”

Jin Ling immediately clenched his fists.

Jin GuangYao continued, “But I’ve never thought of planning everything that happened afterward either. You don’t have to think of me as so clever and faultless. Many things can’t be controlled at all. How could I have known that he’d definitely die by Wei WuXian’s hands together with Jin ZiXun? How could I have predicted that Wei WuXian would definitely lose control and the Ghost General would definitely run a riot?”

Wei WuXian’s voice was harsh, “And you said you didn’t run into him by accident? Isn’t that self-contradiction?!”

Jin GuangYao, “I don’t deny that I told him about the attack at Qiongqi Path on purpose, but I only thought that he’d encounter some difficulties if he ran into you when you were being troubled by his cousin since he’d never been on good terms with you. How could I have known that you would simply kill everyone present, Wei gongzi?”

“Why was a sect leader who spent money like water unwilling to do the smallest favor and buy my mother’s freedom? Simple—it was too much trouble. My mother waited for so many years, weaving together so many difficult circumstances when she talked to me, imagining for his sake so many hardships. And the real reason was only a single word: trouble.

“This is what he said, ‘It’s especially women who’ve read some books who think they’re a level higher than other women. They’re the most troublesome, with so many demands and unrealistic thoughts. If I bought her freedom and took her back to Lanling, who knows how much fuss she’d make. It was best that I let her stay where she was just like that. With her conditions, she’d probably be popular for a few more years. She wouldn’t have to worry about her spendings for the rest of her life.’

“‘Son? Oh, forget it.’”

Jin GuangYao’s memory was extraordinary. With such a word-by-word repetition, one could even imagine that drunk expression of Jin GuangShan’s when he said these words, “Ge, look, those three words were all that I was worth to my father, ‘Oh, forget it.’ Hahahaha…”

Pain flashed before Lan XiChen’s face, “Even if your father… you…” He still couldn’t find an appropriate comment and gave up, sighing instead, “What is the use of saying all this now?”

Jin GuangYao shrugged as he smiled, “I can’t help it. To seek pity even after doing all these terrible things—that’s the kind of person I am.”

At the word ‘pity’, he suddenly flipped his wrist. A red guqin string wrapped around Jin Ling’s neck.

Tears still hung at the corners of Jin GuangYao’s eyes as he spoke, voice low, “Don’t move!”

"I had no choice", "I couldn't predict anyone would be killed" "He mocked and forgot my mother and I". He uses all of this as a try to convince a kind Lan Xichen to let him go. However,he contradicts his own defenses as he had said Wei Wuxian was always fated to die for his actions and lack of being to keep things under control. This empathy is faked on his end while he makes excuses all while he never extended the same courtesy to those he killed, innocent or not, and underhandedly still tries to get those sympathetic under his manipulations. When they are not working he resorts again to threatening lives. He uses his mother also as a reason for revenge, however his grab for power alone after Jin Guangshan and Nie Mingjue are killed was solely based on his own obsession of status at that point. His mother was no longer a goal to accomplish anything and his continued lies dragged in more than one innocent party to get what he wanted.

He never saw Jin Ling, Lan Xichen, Lan Wangji, or Wei Wuxian as anything but pawns despite his soft words to them that are really just a mockery within Guanyin Temple at that point. He has placed none of them before himself in terms of what he cares for and never had.

TL:DR: Jin Guangyao's "kindness" was always a mask and Nie Mingjue was right that he was irredeemable, genuinely unkind and cruel as a person.

(Edit: Jin Guangyao stans don't even try, I will block you if you dare to reply to this)

[xjoonchildx]

last call | jjk x reader

pairing: jungkook x reader

rating: 18+

word count: 4.4K

synopsis: jeon jungkook is the hottest bartender in the city. everyone has their sights set on him, but it seems he has his sights set on you.

warnings: oral (female receiving), protected sex, jungkook thirst, excessive jungkook thirst, hello we’re talking about jungkook here -- there is a jungkook-sized amount of thirst, unsanitary use of a space designated for food and beverage

A/N: this fic is a commission for the @ficswithluv​ special project “Changes with Luv”. The awesome @dee-ehn​ made a donation to BLM for this fic and she asked for sexy times with long-haired JK with tattoos and dammit that’s what she’s gonna get.  Thanks so much for making the donation, this is a cool way for authors like me to pitch in for an important cause!

*********************

Jeon Jungkook is the sexiest man in this city.

That’s not a matter of opinion, that’s an actual fact -- voted into law by you and the rest of the Council of The Thirsty after a night of downing shots at The Black Swan.  The four of you piled into the bar’s single-stall restroom to check lipstick and chat shit and it was decided, that was that.

The Black Swan is open long after the other nearby bars and restaurants have locked up for the night. After the tables have been cleared and the tips have been counted, it’s where just about everyone who works in the service industry in this part of town ends up for a post-shift nightcap. They’re drawn by the late hours and the strong drinks and, well --

Jeon Jungkook.

On any given night, his bar is packed with flirts -- men and women alike -- all hoping for just a taste of his attention.  You can’t blame them, really.  It’s far too easy to get lost in Jungkook’s massive, dark eyes, or that slow, confident smile.  And it’s far too hard to look away when he tucks an errant strand of inky hair behind his ear or when he rolls his sleeves up to reveal those toned forearms covered with tattoos.

Jungkook works his bar with the confidence of a man who understands his magnetism, a man who understands why people get sucked into his orbit and never want to leave. 

Suckers just like you.

*************************

Jägermeister is totally fucking disgusting and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

You’ve just bellied up to the bar to grab a drink when Jeon Jungkook drops a shot of the foul shit right in front of you.  The look you give him is equal parts confused and revolted.

“What’s this?” 

“Oh, come on,” he teases with a smile, “You work at a bar.  Don’t tell me you don’t recognize a shot of Jäger.”

“Oh, I recognize it,” you tease back. “I just refuse to acknowledge it.  Who sent this to me?”

Jungkook narrows his eyes playfully, pulls another shot glass from under the bar and pours himself a shot of the dark, thick liqueur.

He holds it up in the air and waits for you to do the same.

“I did.”

Your eyebrows shoot sky-high in surprise.  Jeon Jungkook buying you a shot? 

You’re probably just in the right place at the right time, you reason. The lucky recipient of a free drink because he’s in the mood to get one, too.  

Or unlucky, you correct yourself -- looking down at the glass.  But one more look at Jungkook and you know there’s no way you’re going to refuse the offering.  

You’re picky, but you’re damned sure not stupid.

You raise your shot glass in the air and Jungkook looks pleased.

“Bottoms up,” he says, eyes twinkling.

***********************

Something strange happens a few nights later.  

You’re seated at a high-top near the bar with your girlfriends when you hear Jungkook call something out across the room.  Your friends freeze, wide eyes and shocked stares focused on you for one awkward moment.

He says it again, this time louder -- and there’s no mistaking it.

It’s your name.

You ignore the frantic whispering of your girlfriends and stand up from your seat at the high-top to approach Jungkook’s bar.  He’s leaned over it, hands bracing the dark wood -- pen tucked neatly behind his ear.  His long dark hair is pulled back into a glossy knot, but one lock has fallen into his eyes.  

He looks insanely good -- but honestly, what’s new?

You clear your throat before you approach so you don’t croak your way through whatever comes next.  Spine straight, you get close, slide into a barstool and do your best to appear casual.

“What’s up?” 

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna threaten you with any more shots of Jäger,” he laughs, flashing his million-watt smile.  You smile back, hoping he can’t hear the holy shits and what the fucks flying at the table behind you.  “I’ve got something else for you tonight.”

“Okay,” you breathe, dazzled by the personal attention he’s bestowing on you.  “What’s on the menu?”

Jungkook reaches for two fresh shot glasses and pulls a heavy amber bottle from the well behind his bar.

“Grand Marnier,” you answer for him, watching as he pours you both a shot.  “An upgrade from Jäger, that’s for sure,” you tease.

He laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in the most goddamned adorable way possible.  “I figured this might be more your speed.”

Figured how? As far as you know, he doesn’t know a thing about you -- apart from the fact that you usually drink a vodka tonic.

And your name, apparently.  How does he know your name, anyway?

“Cheers,” he says in that low, sexy voice, and you shiver.

“Cheers,” you agree, tongue swiping at the taste of the sweet liqueur on your lips.  

Jungkook’s eyes darken for a split-second and heat creeps up your neck.

“So, um -- how do you know my name?”

You can thank the alcohol for giving you the courage to ask.  Sober you wouldn’t be nearly so forward.

Jungkook shrugs.  “I’ve seen it on your credit card.”

“Ah,” you smile.  “Well, thanks, again.  Next time, I’ll be the one buying, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he grins.

But as you’re walking back to your table something dawns on you.  

You turn and head back to the bar.

“Hold on a second,” you say, eyes narrowed at Jungkook.  “I’ve never paid with a credit card here.  I always pay my tab in cash.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs -- and fuck if the slow smile that spreads across his features doesn’t make your panties wet right then and there.  

“Is that right?”

**************************

“Jeon Jungkook wants to fuck you.”

“For the love of God, Tifa,” you hiss, ducking your head.  “Keep your voice down.  Jungkook and every last one of his ancestors can hear you when you’re talking that loud.”

Tifa shrugs, unbothered.

“I said what I said,” she sniffs, checking for non-existent dirt under her nails.  “You see any of us getting free shots from The Golden One? Or any of the other women in here, for that matter?”

Well, she’s kind of got a point there, doesn’t she?

You have no idea why you seem to have captured Jeon Jungkook’s attention, but you’re not going to question it, that’s for sure. You’re going to enjoy your good fortune while it lasts.

“He’s being nice,” you argue, and even you aren’t buying it the second the lame deflection comes out of your mouth.  Tifa rolls her eyes.

“You know what else would be nice? Getting dicked down by the hottest man in town.  Wouldn’t that be nice?”

You sigh.  

It would be, actually.  The part of your brain that entertains such outlandish fantasies has been working overtime these days, imagining exactly what that would be like.  Imagining the body that lies underneath that sinfully fitted shirt and the almost-too-tight-but-not-quite jeans.  

Jungkook certainly walks and talks and moves like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing in bed.  You’d love nothing more than to know if there’s any truth to that theory.

You chance a glance over your shoulder, back to the bar -- and Jungkook is deep in conversation with a patron.  She’s leaning over the bar, practically throwing herself at the man, but he looks away from her to catch sight of you.  His picture-perfect face breaks into a wide smile and you break into a sweat.

“See what I mean?” Tifa asks, brow raised when you turn back to face her.  “The man is trying to fuck you.  I’ll be right here after he does, waiting to say I told you so.”

You sputter a laugh into the rim of your glass.

“We’ll see about that, T.”

*************************

Nothing ruins the end of a night of drinking quite like last call.

All the fun screeches to a halt when the house lights come on.  No one looks good under the harsh fluorescents that hum to life as tabs are being paid and drinks are being slammed and tables are being wiped -- no one.

Well, no one except for Jeon Jungkook, of course.

He’s in the weeds tonight -- trying to settle tabs for at least twenty people all trying to cash out at the same time.  He nods in your direction to confirm he’s seen you, that he’ll get to you -- that eventually you’ll get your chance to pay.

So you wait.  And wait.

The crowd starts to thin as Jungkook closes tabs at top speed -- tip jar flush with obscene amounts of cash.  No one tips better than people who make a living on them -- and tonight is no exception.  From what you can tell it’s been a good night for Jungkook.  

Hell, every night is probably a good night when you’re Jeon Jungkook.

You sip what’s left of your vodka tonic and scroll through your phone while you patiently wait for your turn -- then promptly lose track of time.

How long have you been sitting here? 

It’s only when your ears pick up on the echo in this place that you look up from the screen.  Jungkook is cashing some guy out -- and as you take a look around you realize this guy must be the last person in this place. 

Correction -- you are the last person in this place, or at least you will be in about thirty seconds. 

Your pulse picks up as Jungkook wraps the transaction and sends the guy out the door with a friendly wave.  You’re definitely the only two people left in The Black Swan now, no doubt.

“So uh -- ” you drag the sound out on a nervous breath, “ -- I still need to pay my tab.”

Jungkook flips the house lights back off before sauntering to your end of the bar, wearing his most dangerous smile. He dries his hands with the towel at his waist then sets it aside.

“Your tab was paid hours ago.”

Oh.

“Because you paid it,” you say slowly, forcing yourself to drag your eyes from the man’s muscled thighs and trim waist to his flawless face.  Your heart stops a bit at the smirk you find when you finally get there.

“Yup.”

You grab for what’s left of your vodka tonic and slug it down.  

Jungkook laughs.

“You want me,” he says, fingers working the top buttons of his fitted shirt open.  You watch with wide eyes, so distracted by the action that you barely process what he’s said.

“Wait, what?” you ask in a daze.

“You want me,” he repeats casually, like it’s no big deal.  His fingers stop only a few buttons down, the tease -- but he chooses that same moment to pull his hair out of the loose knot he’s been wearing all night.  The dark strands fall into his face and you stare like a moron.

“What makes you say that?” you ask, weakly.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jungkook teases.  “My vision is 20/20.  My hearing is pretty good, too -- though it would be pretty hard not to overhear the things you and your friends say about me.”

Dammit, Tifa, I told you to keep your voice down.

“Yikes,” you murmur on a shaky laugh.  “That’s embarrassing.”

“Doesn’t have to be,” he says with no hesitation.  “‘Cause I want you, too.”

You pull back from the bar so far, your stool nearly tips over. Jungkook waits for you to right yourself in amused silence.  Then he waits for you to speak.

“I’m, I  -- “ you sputter, searching for things like words and thoughts.  Jungkook’s brows lift as he awaits whatever is on the other end of that sentence.  “ -- I think I need another drink.”

Jungkook winks before reaching down to pull glasses from under the bar.  He sets a brown bottle with a familiar orange label down beside them.  You hold your breath when you see him walk out from behind the bar to slide into the stool next to yours.

“Fireball,” you say thickly, watching him pour the cinnamon liqueur into the shot glasses.  He nods, handing you your glass.

“Think this will help?” he asks, smiling wickedly.  

“No way to know but to do it,” you smile back.

You clink the glasses together before draining them.

You can almost feel the alcohol working its way through your veins.  The warm burn of it starts in your throat, slides low into your belly and spreads out through your arms and legs.  

“Think that did the trick?” he asks in a low voice, dark eyes fixed on your every move.  He leans closer.

“I don’t know,” you admit. He’s close enough now you can smell the warm cinnamon on his breath.  Between the booze and the hormones, you’re starting to feel a little reckless.  “That depends.  Are you trying to fuck me in this bar?”

“Absolutely,” Jungkook deadpans.  You suck in a breath.

“Then I think we’ll probably need one more.”

Jungkook chuckles as he refills your glasses.  His eyes glint with unconcealed mischief when you knock the second round back.  This time, the warmth that spreads down your throat seems to pool between your thighs.

You dip the pad of one finger into the remnants left in the shotglass, emboldened by the buzz you can feel coming on.  Jungkook watches rapt as you slip it between your lips.  You are weightless and shameless by now, more than prepared for the moment he slips two fingers under your jaw to tip your mouth up towards his.  

He tastes like the pleasant spice in the alcohol and he smells like sweat and bodywash and your senses are overwhelmed.  Your fingers dive right into his hair, desperate to feel the silky strands between your fingertips.

“Fireball was a good idea,” Jungkook groans between kisses, hands going to your back to pull you close.  You stand out of your barstool to position yourself between his thighs.  “I like the way you think.”

He pulls away to tug at the hem of your shirt. 

“Take this off,” he orders with a quiet authority that makes you desperate to comply. His eyes are heavy-lidded; glued to the nipples pebbling underneath the thin cotton.  You cross your arms across your body and lift the shirt over your head.

Jungkook doesn’t bother to take your bra off.  You jolt with surprise when he surges forward, mouth seeking the skin peeking out of the soft cups.  He plants hot, open-mouthed kisses across the heated flesh before leaning low to graze the outline of one nipple.  You jerk at the sensation -- at the way his lips and tongue and teeth make the fabric rub against the straining buds.

“Oh, God,” you hiss, “That feels good.”

Jungkook pushes the straps of your bra off your shoulders, eyes dark and focused when your breasts spill out of the cups and your nipples are exposed to the cool air in the bar.  You shudder.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, touching his tongue to your nipples now without a barrier.  You allow yourself to run your fingers through his hair again, anchoring yourself to him to keep steady in the onslaught.

It’s bad manners that you haven’t pulled yourself together enough to thank him for the compliment, but how can you be expected to think straight when his teeth are scraping against your nipples? 

Jungkook pauses to look up at you -- eyes smoldering, lips swollen with use -- and you squirm in his hold.  “You should take these jeans off,” he whispers, fingers slipping into the belt loops. He tugs at them gently. “I wouldn’t want them to get wet.”

Oh honey -- that ship has sailed.

You nod slowly and Jungkook leans back in his stool, eyes hooded as you unbutton the denim, slide it down your legs and step out of it.  

“You gonna take any clothes off, or am I the only one stripping tonight?” you tease, shivering at the loss of his body heat. 

A slow smile spreads over his face. “We’re getting to that, I promise.”

He reaches across the bar for the bottle of Fireball and your mouth falls open in surprise.

“Wait, are you gonna -- “

“Yeah,” he cuts in, dripping the cool liquid onto your breast.  His lips swipe at the liqueur that spills over your nipple and you groan out loud.  “I own this bar,” he teases, his warm tongue a stark contrast to the cold alcohol.  “I can do whatever I want in here.”

You certainly can.

He drips more of the liquid onto a nipple and watches with satisfaction as it slides down your skin.  He laps at the cinnamon taste as his hands roam the sensitive skin of your stomach and down to the band of your panties.  Your breath hitches in your chest.

“I can do whatever I want on here, too,” he smirks, nodding at the bar.  You laugh.

“You’re the boss, right?”

“Exactly,” Jungkook winks, before his hands drop to your waist. His grip is firm as he helps lift you on to the bartop. 

You brace your hands against the wood and watch as he slips his fingers under the satin seam of your panties.  In this position, you have a front-row seat to what is sure to be the hottest sexual experience of your life.  Jungkook’s brows knit in concentration and his tongue swipes across his lips as he pulls your soaking panties away from your legs.  The sight of him preparing to debauch you on top of his bar alone could make you come.

He steadies you with firm hands to either side of your hips before dipping his head down to test your taste with a light flick of his tongue.  You buck in his grasp and he muffles his laughter against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.  “You’re not allowed to fall off of my bar,” he teases.  “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” you laugh, fingertips gripping the bartop for dear life.  

Jungkook pulls his mouth away from your aching center and you damned near whine at the loss of his warmth.  But in a split-second he’s back, and so is the Fireball.  

“Just a little,” he rasps, tipping the bottle to the side.  You hiss as the frigid liquid seeps down into the crux of your thighs.  Jungkook purses his lips and blows a puff of air against you, sparking an intense tingling sensation and earning a loud whimper.  He’s satisfied with your response, if the look on his face is any indication  --  but his wicked smile disappears from view when he lowers his mouth to your center again.

“Fuck,” you gasp, head dropping back between your shoulders. “God, that feels good.”

“Tell me what it feels like,” he whispers, slipping one long, calloused finger into your channel.  The added sensation makes you whine when he swipes his tongue against your clit.  

“Like --,” you gasp and try again to formulate a thought. “Like fire and ice.”

He hums his approval of that assessment right into your cunt and you nearly break your promise not to fall off his bar.  Your arms are shaking with the same tension that is building between your legs. Jungkook pulls back to drip more of the Fireball onto your sensitive center and you shudder.

The alcohol burns a bit, a pleasant pain that is somehow heightened by Jungkook’s warm, wet mouth.  He doesn’t rush, seemingly content to take his time as you slowly come undone. 

“I’m so close,” you whimper, elbows threatening to buckle underneath you.  Jungkook finally picks up the pace, tonguing you deep as your thighs tighten in anticipation.

“I can feel how bad you want to come, sweetheart,” he goads, finger crooking inside of you, stimulating that spot that makes you feel like you can’t see straight.  “Do it.”

The moans Jungkook pulls from you in those final seconds are made all the more obscene by the echoing inside this empty bar.  Every muscle in your body tightens and then melts as your orgasm hits with the intensity of a freight train.  Jungkook seals his mouth over your cunt to capture the wetness he’s earned, prolonging the sensations, prolonging your moans. 

It takes a moment for the roar in your ears to subside, for your ability to focus to return.  When you can hear and see and think again, you look back down to the space between your thighs and find Jungkook wearing a look of utter satisfaction.

“Believe it or not, that’s the first time I’ve eaten pussy on top of my bar,” he teases, dimples emerging as his lips quirk into a smile.  “How has your service been tonight?”

“Pretty good,” you taunt, a lot ballsier with a few shots and an orgasm under your belt.  “Would be a hell of a lot better if my bartender would take his clothes off.”

Jungkook feigns a wounded look as his fingers work the rest of the buttons on his shirt open to reveal a tight white tank underneath.  He pulls that overhead and reveals the body you’ve been fantasizing about for so long.  Whatever you’d imagined was lying underneath those clothes pales in comparison to the real thing.  His body looks cut from stone, his smooth skin the perfect canvas for the tattoos that run across his arms and onto his chest.

“Better now?” he chuckles.

“Not yet,” you say, savoring the power of your position on the bar.  You watch his one-woman striptease with the hint of a smile on your lips.  “The jeans have to go.”

“Bossy,” he mocks, fingers unbuttoning the dark denim.  Your jaw drops about the same time the jeans do.

“Well,” you laugh, slipping down off of the bar to stand in front of him.  “Your review has just improved.”

He smiles into the kiss you plant on him as your fingers snake between you to wrap around his cock.  He thrusts firmly into the tight grasp of your fingers as his tongue delves deep into your mouth.  He sucks in a breath when your thumb teases as the moisture gathered at the tip of his cock.

“My cock is gonna explode if I don’t bury it between those thighs,” Jungkook groans and you shudder from head to toe.  “Turn around for me.”

You do as you're told, turning away from him to brace your weight against the bartop.  You can see Jungkook’s reflection in the mirror that lines the back wall of the bar.  You watch as he grabs a condom from the back pocket of his jeans and makes quick work of rolling it down his thick length.

He presses the length of his warm body against yours, and you tense when the blunt head of his cock teases your entrance.  One hand lines up his cock and the other grips the soft skin of your hip.  He looks at you in the reflection of the mirror and your knees almost give out when he leans down to whisper in your ear.

“Let me in, sweetheart.”

You arch back just as he sinks inside -- going to the hilt in one firm stroke.  

“Shit,” he groans between gritted teeth. “Fuck, that’s a tight fit.”

“Oh, God --” you gasp as he begins to rock against you.  After a few languid strokes he sets a steady rhythm, hips smacking against your ass with the force of his thrusts.

He leans over you, bracketing you in with one arm braced on the bar while the other helps guide your hip.  Your eyes fall closed and your head drops forward as you push back against him, rendered boneless by the thick slide of his cock.  The sound of his skin slapping against yours echoes loud in the empty bar.

Jungkook leans down to take your earlobe between his teeth and you whimper.

“Look at me,” he orders in a whisper.  “Open your eyes.”

Your eyes snap open to find Jungkook’s reflection and the sight nearly makes you come undone for a second time.  His damp hair is falling into his face, body covered in a sheen of sweat and his mouth is curled into a dangerous smile.

“That’s it,” he murmurs when your eyes meet in the mirror.  “I want you to see how good you’re getting fucked.”

Your rhythm falters at his provocation but Jungkook refuses to let either of you get off track.  He drops both hands to your hips and begins pounding into you with relentless strokes, huffing a laugh when you squeak in response.

“Just like that, sweetheart,” he groans, thrusts going frantic.  “Can you come for me again?”

You nod -- completely out of words -- reaching one hand down to the aching button between your thighs.  Jungkook pulls your body back against his, angling deeper into your aching cunt at the same time your shaking fingers manage to apply a light pressure to your clit.  

That’s all it takes.

You come apart a second later and Jungkook pulls your hair back to expose the column of your throat as he rides you through it.  His teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck as his own orgasm starts to ignite.

His fingers grip your hips so hard you’re certain there will be bruises in the morning.  But it’s worth it -- so damned worth it when you get to watch Jeon Jungkook come undone for you.  You’ve never seen anything sexier than Jungkook with brows knit in utter concentration, mouth slack with pleasure and coming for you.  Inside of you.

 You lean against the bar, legs like noodles as he comes down from his high and seconds later, he’s slumped over you, body lax against yours.

“Hey,” he says after a moment of silence, as you’re catching your breath.  He leans his chin against your shoulder.

“Yeah?” you manage, craning your head to face him.

“Come back tomorrow and we can break open my bottle of Goldschläger.”

*********************

You wake with an ache between your temples and an ache between your legs. 

The pounding in your head is your punishment for drinking way more than you should have last night.  

The pleasant soreness lingering between your thighs is an entirely different story.  That’s the only souvenir you get to keep to commemorate the best sex of your life.  And it’s not going to stick around.

You roll over in bed and reach for your phone.

Tifa picks up on the first ring.

“I’m not even going to play the game with you, girl,” she says, in lieu of a proper greeting. “I just wanna know how it was.”

***********************

[duskamethyst]

playing with fire.

a/n: sooo this is my take on the racer!AU. i’ve spent some time watching movies about car racing to get a grasp on the whole scene so i hope i executed this well enough. i also used some terms that are related to cars and wtv, so you can google if you're curious.

word count: 3.8k

genre: smut, nsfw, mature, quirkless AU

warnings: illegal street racing

pairing: racer!keigo x f!reader

summary: keigo is notorious for being the king of speed and drifting in car races and you’ve caught his attention since the first night you joined as a line girl. although keigo has his eyes on you for a while now, he realizes that he might’ve missed a few things about you. and well, surprises aren’t exactly bad.. right?

keigo loves speed. he loves the adrenaline pumping in his veins.

and what better way can he express his love for it?

cars. races. 

keigo is a force to be reckoned with. he grew to be infamous for his incredible skills and talent in the scene and because of that, he also became the main target for the cops.

however, he’s not aiming for anything in particular. yet he doesn’t mind the prizes that come with it either; recognition, money, women. 

and boy, how he can easily get anyone wrapped around his finger.

but one thing he’s irritated about is how you’ve never paid him any attention. he got some killer looks, has won so many races, fucking loaded with money and he’s pretty confident about his size too (you can ask the other girls if you need reference, by the way). 

what more does he need to entertain you?

keigo gets excited when you’re filling the role of the line girl for his races on certain nights. he knows that it’s the best opportunity to show you what he’s made of and he wants you to know that you shouldn’t be taking him so lightly. 

the starting line is crowded with car enthusiasts, boys and girls alike– gathered for their love towards expensive sport cars, the sound of roaring engines, the thrill of watching and betting between two racers. the roads on the city outskirts has been put into lockdown by the responsible crews to avoid disruptions from other vehicles or bystanders.

keigo pulls up to the arena with his red nissan a few minutes early, not wanting to be late especially because he's the main star for tonight. his avid followers would already be there before him and instantly swarm around his loud car to cheer him on, wish him luck and maybe give him some kisses on his cheeks too.

as he’s chatting with the people around him, his golden eyes wander around from time to time to catch a glimpse of you in the arena. his eyes narrow when he finally sees you standing and talking by the window of his rival’s car. 

he wishes he could hear what you’re talking about that makes you all smiles and giggles while all he has ever gotten is the cold shoulder. keigo leans on his car, arms folded across his chest as he watches you from afar. he can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes when he notices you kissing the guy’s cheek before you walk away and strut in his direction to get across the other end. 

a playful smirk tugs on the corners of his lips by reflex as he watches you come nearer, the noises of the engines and chatters around him are quick to become white noises. yet, you only spare him a glance.

“hey,” you stop in your tracks and turn once you realize that he’s trying to talk to you and his lips curl into a lopsided smile as he smizes you with his golden eyes. “i’m keigo.”

you look at his extended hand peculiarly before shaking it firmly. “yeah, don’t humble yourself. all people here know you.”

“oh?” he raises a brow in amusement. “i’m just saying because you’re kinda new here.”

you smile, “already keeping tabs on me, keigo?”

“how could i not?” he chuckles. “always gotta keep you in my sight.”

“right,” you scoff. “what if i say that i’m taken and he’s my boyfriend?” you tilt your head to the side to point at the guy you spoke to earlier. 

keigo inhales through gritted teeth, feigning a pained and offended expression on his face. “then you have a bad taste in men.” 

“ha-ha,” you roll your eyes, pretending not to be amused by him yet he can see the small smile on your lips. “race is starting soon, you should get in your car.”

“don’t you wanna kiss me good luck?” keigo stares at your ass as you turn to walk away but he quickly shifts his gaze to your face once you turn to look at him. 

“i don’t think you’re the type that believes in luck.” you flash a sarcastic smile before striding off towards the front center of the track.

two race cars come forward before the red line that was freshly sprayed just a few minutes prior. keigo watches you as he revs his engine, sending a flirtatious wink when your eyes meet.

ignoring him, you raise both arms in the air, glancing between the two males who now have intense glares on the road ahead as they grip their steering wheels and gears firmly. 

“ready! set!” you shout through the revving engines and the cheers from the mob. “go!”

the moment you draw your hands down, both vehicles instantly speed off and emit white smoke from the friction of tires on the asphalt. when you spin around, you can vividly see that keigo is the one eating dust. 

keigo is calm and focused. like a hawk soaring in the blue sky, he keeps his prey within his vicinity before he waits for the right moment to pounce. he loves to chase– purposely letting his opponent get swept by their own overconfidence before he severely crushes down their will by swiftly changing the lead. some wouldn’t take the risk, but keigo absolutely loves the devastated look on their faces when he veers beside them by surprise.

any regular racers would be familiar with the track by now. he presses the clutch as he changes necessary gears while the mph meter increases gradually as his right foot presses down the accelerator continuously. keigo skillfully speeds through tunnels and every sharp corner until his bumper eventually lightly hits the race car in front of him, making the two of them neck-to-neck.

however, the car in front of him keeps on shifting side by side in an attempt to stop him from getting the chance to overtake. despite the adrenaline pumping in his veins, keigo is patient. he’s aware of the corner ahead where people usually make the same mistake and that’s where he finds the opening to strike. 

approaching the said corner, keigo has expected that the other car would make a wide angled drift thus with his own dexterity, he maintains perfect control as he drifts through the entire corner. 

“hah, bastard.” he snickers, glancing at his side mirror to see the other car struggles to catch up from the poor oversteering. 

keigo steps on the gas harder before he activates the nitrous oxide and boosts his ride until the finish line; easily completing the whole lap with the other car just a decent gap behind.

his ears are ringing with cheers as steps out from the car as people instantly flock around him to express their praises for his victory. keigo notices you weaving your way through the crowd to reach him and a triumphant smirk curls on his lips.

“i’m not surprised.” you say, voice lacing in sheer amusement. 

“yeah, but you’re the big prize for me tonight.” he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer, ignoring the people around him.

“i wasn’t a part of the bet.” you chide. 

keigo smiles at you endearingly before he gaze trails far in the distance. “we gotta run.”

as if on cue, the most hated and startling siren echoes through the street. everyone quickly scatters to their cars and drives off while you get inside keigo’s car with him. he wastes no time and speeds off before one patrol car chases after him.

“hold on, baby.” he swerves through corners, changing gears as he presses the gas harder to try and get the police off his tail. “one more corner will shake him off.”

keigo expects you to be frantic but he is caught off guard when he realizes that you’ve opened the window and stuck your upper body out of the car window. 

“what are you–”

you lift up your shirt and flash your tits at the cops behind you, “fuck you!”

a look of shock is apparent on his face but then he laughs to himself, thinking that he’s seeing you as you actually are, even for a brief second, and not the cold façade you’ve always shown him.

you get back in and sink in your seat just before keigo makes it to the last corner, giving him a chance to widen the gap between him and the car behind him before he quickly brakes at a dark, quiet alley.

“think we lost them.” he peeks through the rear view mirror to see the patrol car passing and missing the alley you both are hiding. “let's wait for a few minutes before i take you home.”

the both of you stay in the car for a few moments, making sure that there are no more cops patrolling the roads before he starts to drive off to your house. keigo doesn’t know why but he suddenly finds himself to be rather nervous now that you’re alone with him. he chooses not to make you uncomfortable so he geeks about his car instead and talks about which car he’d like to own next and gives his own elaboration why he adores it in the form of horsepower, engine and all the shit that you’re probably not too familiar with. 

now he feels like an idiot.

keigo hits the brake once you tell him to stop in front of your apartment and he’s a bit upset that the journey ended quicker than he thought. 

“thanks for the ride, keigo.” you say before opening the door and step out. 

“sure thing. sorry if i talked too much.” he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

but he feels relieved and his confidence flows within him when he hears you laugh. “it’s fine. you did rather.. well.”

“you’re not too bad yourself,” he grins, knowing that you’re not talking about the race he won. “flashing your tits like that. you’re full of surprises.”

you close the door and lean down to the open window, “and i assume you’d like to know what i have up my sleeves?” 

“i’m taking you out after my next win.” he snickers, honey orbs glinting with overflown confidence and mischief. 

“only if i get to drive.” you smile cheekily, leaving him stunned before a cocky smirk etches on his lips. 

“bet.”

it has been two weeks since keigo last saw you and tonight is another night that you’re filling in as the flagger. he’s uncharacteristically super pumped for his race tonight, coming with extra determination to absolutely annihilate the race since he can’t wait for the biggest prize that awaits him. 

he watches as you stand in the middle of the starting line, not missing the wink you give him before you glance at the other male to see if both contenders are ready. both cars rev their engines as they wait for your signal. this time, keigo immediately accelerates with incredible speed and smokes the other, not offering the slightest chance for his opponent to take the lead.

the battle takes place in the parking lot tonight– from the basement until the rooftop. keigo is notorious for his drifting skills so he’s able to ascend to each floor without breaking a sweat, oversteering through every spiral ramp that eventually leads to the rooftop. 

sounds of screeching tires can be heard from the wire. the winner is already expected by the crowd, yet they all stay and wait at the finish line to welcome the first car to arrive. sooner than later, keigo’s car is the first one to appear and the mob instantly runs over to him while the other arrives seconds later with some ugly dents and scratches on their car. 

“you really didn’t hold back, huh?” you chaff, resting your arms on top of his shoulders before he pulls you into an embrace. 

“i just couldn’t wait to take my prize back home.” he whispers in your ear, just audible for the two of you but before he can take the chance to kiss you, you pull away.

“come on, playboy. let’s take a drive.” you quickly jump into the driver’s seat and rev his engine. as he’s about to open the other door, you intentionally step on the gas to make the car move forward. 

“you can do it.” you laugh, moving the car forward again when he tries to open the door.

“not funny, kid.” keigo looks at you in annoyance before quickly opening the door and sitting beside you. 

“i’m just teasing you.”

keigo rolls his eyes and sighs, “okay, go slowly when we’re going down the ramps.”

he guides you the whole way down, reminding you to be careful of the corners and to keep watch on both side mirrors as you drive down until you’ve successfully reached the exit of the building and onto the main road. 

“that’s good. i guess you know how the clutches work now. so when you want to drive faster, you should– holy shit!” 

you immediately accelerate and skillfully shift gears as you drive through town. keigo on the other hand, quickly wears his seatbelt and holds onto his seat in fear for the whole ride. it must be the terrified look on his face because he can hear you laugh like a maniac as you drive even faster.

“fuck! slow it down, kid!” he yells, staring widely at the road in front him to make sure you’re not crashing his car to any poles or other vehicles. 

keigo swears that his soul has already flown out of his body but luckily you both have made it in front of your apartment unscathed. he has no idea how, but he’s fucking glad the car has stopped.  

“that was fun!” you chirp and turn off the engine. 

“n-never again.” he stammers and quickly finds solace by stepping on the ground, thanking the lords that he still has the chance to see another day.

“get a grip, keigo. you’re lucky i didn’t use nos.”

you get out of the car and hand him his keys before leading him inside your complex. 

“i wanted to drive to your place but you were busy screaming when i asked you where you live.” you purposely pick on him, remembering how he couldn’t utter cohesive words except for ‘watch out!’, ‘holy shit!’ and some other things of those sorts.

“shut up.” he pinches your arm. 

“but my place is okay too, right?” you smile sweetly as you open your door and pull him inside. you both quickly take off your shoes and keigo’s arms easily wrap around your waist to pull you close.

“if here’s where you want to show me the tricks you have up your sleeves, why not?” 

“but you didn’t seem too entertained with my surprise earlier.” you pout innocently, leading him towards your bedroom.

“i appreciate it.” 

keigo crashes his lips onto yours and pushes both bodies back down on your bed. he quickly takes off his leather jacket along with his shirt and throws it to the floor before his hands roam around your body while your hands run through his fluffy blonde hair. 

you moan into the kiss when you feel his erection grinding against your pussy and he breaks away to pepper kisses down your neck. keigo takes off your shirt and unclasps your bra before he latches his mouth on one of your hardened nipples and tweaks the other between his fingers. 

“you’re so impatient,” he mumbles, pressing down your clit through the damped panties. “you’re so wet and i barely touched you.”

“stop it, keigo.” you whine breathlessly, rubbing the bud against his finger shamelessly to relief the dull ache. 

“hm? i’m just teasing you.” he mocks. “can’t take it?”

“you’re an ass.” you bite back playfully, making the male chuckle with mirth. 

keigo takes off your skirt and pulls down your panties, smearing his thumb with your slick through your puffy folds and revels over how warm and drenched you are. 

“fuck.” he hisses as he watches you squirm from his touch. “what do you want me to do to you, babe?”

you nibble your lips anticipatingly, “hmm, show me how fast you are in bed.”

his eyes twinkle with pleasure and his lips twist into a sardonic smile, “oh? that sounds more like a challenge to me.” 

keigo bends your knees up, holding your ankles as he dives down to lick a fat strip of your essence. you shudder from the feeling of his wet muscle lapping the slick up and down while he gazes at your blissful expression through half-lidded eyes. he intentionally circles your throbbing clit with the tip of his tongue and gives a harsh suck that causes your legs to tremble. 

“mmph– keigo!” you whimper, trying to close your legs together but he only pushes your legs up even more until your ass is lifted from the bed. 

he drags his tongue down slowly then prods it inside your dripping hole. he wiggles his tongue all around your walls, shoving it as deep as he can until most of his face is buried against your cunny. your cheeks heat up in embarrassment when you make eye contact with the male– his gaze is predatory and intense, his expression inexplicit as he continues to fuck you with his tongue.

the warm muscle brushing rapidly against your walls feels so lewd yet arousing. keigo can see that your tummy begins to twitch as your breath comes shorter while your legs shakes uncontrollably. keigo pulls away, licking his lips t0 clean off your juices yet you can still see some leftovers glimmering on the tip of his nose and his chin. 

“shit,” he slides in a finger inside your quivering hole and groans over the feeling of your walls clenching around it. “you’re ready to take a cock, aren’t you?”

“mmhmm, please.” you whimper, grinding your hips to match his pace after he fits in another finger. 

“i like you begging like this. not very cocky now, huh?” he curls his digits inside you, dragging it against the spongy part that bounds to tip you off the edge soon. 

“oh, fuck–” you gasp as the muscles in your lower stomach continues to tighten vigorously. “keigo– wanna cum–”

“then cum.” he snickers, pushing his fingers back and forth at a ruthless pace while his thumb ghosts over your neglected clit. “come on. you can do it.”

keigo mocks again, not minding how he comes off quite petty since he’s the one who has the upper hand now. so he uses that opportunity to make you beg and given the fact that you’ve grown more desperate, you let it slide.

“p-please–” your hips are shaking, begging for one final push before you can completely reach your orgasm.

“you need me to touch this clit, don’t you?” he coos, grazing his thumb teasingly. 

“pleaseplease. need you, keigo. make me cum–” 

keigo generously rubs tight circles on your clit, causing your body to spasm violently as you’re pushed over the edge and cream all over his fingers. keigo crawls on top of you, drowning your moans with a fervour kiss and the saltiness that has enveloped his tongue embeds with your taste buds.

“but that wasn’t enough to show you how fast i can be, right?” he chuckles, freeing his throbbing cock from its confinement, tip already flushed with a bead of precum before he shifts back down and lines with your quivering hole. 

you gasp when you feel his cock stretches your sopping cunny, each bulging vein brushes against your walls as he fills you to the brim. 

“shit. i– ‘m so full.” you sob, clenching your sheets firmly before he takes out his cock halfway and pushes back inside you steadily. 

“f-fucking tight. your pussy’s sucking me so well.” he props on his hands so he can look into your eyes while he pounds inside your pussy. reflexively, your legs are wrapped around his waist and allows keigo to ram deeper and concurrently kissing your cervix with his tip. 

“hah– feels good–” you moan. “choke me.”

your request took him by surprise and it’s clear from the way his cock suddenly twitches inside you. nonetheless, he complies; circling his palm around your throat and pressing carefully. 

“mmph– yesyesyes!” your eyes roll back as your mind slowly becomes cloudy from the lack of oxygen while the male growls above you, sheathing his thick cock in and out as your walls clench around him.

“goddamn, you’re clamping down on me.” he says through gritted teeth, applying more pressure around your neck as he thrusts harder. 

the air in the room is filled with the sounds of his balls smacking your skin and lewd squelching noises. the pressure inside your tummy builds up drastically and your toes are curling as you chase for another orgasm while you submissively let keigo milk his cock with your sloppy cunt. 

“come on, baby. cum on this fat cock.”

you’re unsure whether your mind is playing tricks on you or whether keigo’s pace has become more relentless and incredibly fast but you couldn’t bring yourself to care when it feels so good, the pressure inside your stomach is threatening to snap.

“keigo–!” with a loud cry of his name, you finally come undone– pussy fluttering around his cock and he finally lets go of his hold from your neck to let you breathe. 

“fuck yeah. good girl.” keigo nibbles on your neck, marking you with purple bruises as he rides through your high. his sporadic thrusts soon starts to falter and you know he’s just close when you feel his cock twitching inside. 

“fuck– baby– i’m gonna cum.” he says through grunts, brows furrowing as he desperately reaches for his climax. his hips stop moving abruptly, groaning in your ear as he fills you up with his load. 

the two of you stay in trance for a moment, regaining your composure before keigo pulls out his spent cock and lies next to you. while keigo is still in a daze, you get up and reach for the drawer beside you and get on top of him. keigo snaps back to reality when he hears the clank of a metal sound above his head. by tugging his wrists, he can figure that it’s a metal handcuff. once again, keigo is astonished. it’s confounding and thrilling; how many more surprises do you have in store for him? all underneath that cold guise, he has never expected you to be such a fun person to be with.

“round two? so soon.” he smirks conceitedly, golden eyes shining brightly with eagerness. “i must’ve been that good, huh?”

but you only chuckle and shake your head before looking at him dead in the eyes. he’s slightly perplexed, but his blood run cold once you show him a shiny badge in your hand.

upon his obvious dismay, you return his smirk. “keigo takami, you’re under arrest for participating in illegal street racing.”

duskamethyst © 2020 • do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found  the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you. 

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him. 

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long. 

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness. 

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull. 

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.  

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

 It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real. 

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see. 

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists. 

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day. 

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink. 

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season. 

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options. 

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs. 

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?" 

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear. 

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them. 

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you. 

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers. 

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it. 

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue. 

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning. 

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head. 

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

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