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thot4ellie · 3 months

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oh sweetheart pt 4

pairing: boxer!ellie x f! jesses sister!reader

word count: 6.6k

rating: 18+ (smut will be coming in later parts)

warnings: boxer!ellie, fighting/boxing, flirting, blood, weed, alcohol, joel is dead in this :(, kissing, sexual interaction (almost im getting there pls!) talk of abusive relationships, cheating mentioned, smoking, talk of death, talk of mourning (lmk if im forgetting anything) ellie likes coffee lol, also i post w no specific character descriptions besides being female :)

summary: you and ellie spend the day together, your luck turns and you both realize you’re not alone anymore.

author notes: hi guys sorry this is later than expected! got a promotion at work and it’s kept me a bit busy, but reader talking ab her ex gf???? there’s no name yet for a reason (hint hint) and with that i just want to say that personas of a character im writing do not reflect back on the actual character and it’s just a plot twist i thought id throw in for later down the line! anyways pls forgive me for being late i pulled an all nighter and i finished this so i will go back and edit soon! thank you for reading! pls comment like reblog and follow!

part 1 | part 2 | part 2.5 | part 3

series masterlist | main masterlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸

READ: this account stands with palestine, and so— i require everyone who interacts to educate themselves, and support/donate. READ THESE; 1 and 2, HELP HERE, BOYCOTT. silence is complicity, do not scroll past this.

DO NOT BUY THE REMASTER, TLOU2, TLOU1, OR ANY GAME FROM NAUGHTY DOG! neil druckmann (the creator) is a zionist. PLEASE READ THIS. AND REBLOG THIS.

the sun beamed from the window in your bedroom, creating a pattern of light shining across your comforter. your eyes flutter open as you were took in the brightness covering your room. you cursed yourself in your head for not closing the curtains. you looked at the clock that was reading 8:48am,.

you realized you definitely drank too much last night and now you’re suffering the consequences. you take a little while to gather yourself before you went to get up from your bed, throwing the blankets over the top of you to sit up. all you wanted to do was think about last night as you were interrupted by the sight of her tattooed arm, resting over your waist holding you against her, you being unable to move as thoughts of last night played in your head as you try to ignoring the pounding.

ellie.

you guys outside smoking last night enjoying each others company. the way she got so close to your lips that you could feel her breath. ellie and you hanging out at the bar with dina and jesse. ellie walking you home and giving you her jacket. her agreeing to come up to your apartment, the tension that floated in the air every second you were each other. the way sweetheart rolled off her tongue when she talked you. getting high on your couch and kissing her as she pulled you on top of her. the way the she moved your hair out of your face before falling asleep. admitting to her that you liked her and that she felt the same way about you.

she liked you.

ellie stirred, arm around you as you were caught up in your thoughts. you heard her take breathe deep in her sleep as she pulled you even closer, your back pressing against her chest. you couldn’t believe this was happening. you and ellie fell asleep in your bed last night. kissing her and being with her has clouded your thoughts since you met her and now…. she has her arm around your waist fast asleep breathing you in.

the way your lips would connect with hers, if they would move perfectly in sync with each, fitting like two puzzle pieces together. how her heavy hands traced inches of your body, sliding her hands up and down your hips and thighs…

your eyes felt droopy as you got comfortable against ellie, drowning in the scent of her that took over your sheets and pillows. you cuddled into ellie’s strong chest that she held you against her. you moved your own arm to lay across hers as you fell back to sleep, now remembering everything that happened last night and what led to this moment of you waking up next to each other.

a couple hours, you stir around and wake yourself, only to find the bed empty. your heart drops realizing ellie was gone and didn’t say goodbye. did she not mean what she said last night? you told her you liked her and she left. overthinking was your specialty.

as you pulled the blankets over your head ready to sulk the entire day in end over what happened, you decided you were going to shower the night off before you spent the hours upset. you got up and headed into your bathroom, turned on the shower and got undressed. you took about thirty minutes washing your hair and body, despite not wanting to wash off the scent of ellie that you were wrapped in. you turned off the shower, got out and dried off as wrapped yourself in a huge fuzzy pink towel and as opened the door to your bedroom, you saw her.

ellie was there sitting on your bed facing the bathroom door, with two coffee mugs in her hand.

“good morning sweetheart,” she spoke softly.

“hi els,” you blushed, “i thought you left..” you told her shyly.

“i wouldn’t just leave after last night,” she responded, “i told you we’d talk sweetheart.”

“yes you did,” you utter, looking at her as you smiled sweetly and adjusted the towel around you.

“do you want to go to breakfast?” she asked, “theres this nice diner by my apartment if you wanted to walk.”

“yes that sounds perfect el!” you said, excited at the sound of food in your stomach.

you told ellie you’d get dressed and meet her in the living room. she left the room and you walked over to your dresser. your thoughts piled as your picked out your outfit.

she stayed. ellie stayed. your mood changed at the sight of her and you were so glad that last night meant something and you weren’t just drunk. flashes of ellie laying in your bed as she faced you and the way she touched you, the way her skin felt on yours. it was intoxicating.

you changed and left your bedroom to find ellie sitting on your couch. she was focused on avatar the last air-bender streaming over your large tv screen. (the animated series ofc!) she reached to get the coffee she made and handed it to you as you took a seat next to her.

“i love this show.” you spoke as you wrapped your hands around the cup and sipped on your still warm coffee.

“yeah toph is so badass- the best part of the show,” ellie laughed.

you guys finished the episode in comfortable silence until you spoke up and asked ellie if she still wanted to get breakfast. she said yes as she took her last sip, held her hand out motioning for your mug. you handed it to her as both got up. her putting them both in your kitchen sink and you grabbed your tote bag from your bedroom. ellie grabbed her bookbag from your living floor and threw it over her shoulder as she met you by your entry area. you both exited your apartment and you started the walk to the cafe, ellie leading you since she knew the way.

as you walked, ellie talked about jurassic park which she just watched the other day and how she loved the movie series which lead to her telling you about the time she went to a history museum for her birthday when she was 15, how exciting it was seeing the dinosaurs up close and she managed to spill at least 20 dinosaur facts in half the walk.

she told you about the space section they had and how fucking cool it was to sit in the space shuttle they had there. you laugh as she tells you that she’s gonna be the next person who goes to space. she points out the spaceship pin she has on her backpack, telling you its one of her favorite things she’s ever been gifted.

you loved hearing ellie talk about the things that she loves. she told you she collects superhero cards and reads comics, “like a nerd” she said. she tells you about her favorite songs to play on guitar. she told you she can’t wait to play for you sometime. ellie asked you about your favorite songs, mentally taking note of them because she will be teaching herself how to play one to impress you.

as you continue walking, you take in the scenery surrounding you on the street you walked. your eyes spotted the wire benches that were spaced out throughout the street, the flower stand on a far corner ahead, and the small gas station and convenience store up ahead. as you made it a bit further, you saw a bookstore coming up on the corner as you and ellie walked side by side. “oh my god ellie! do you mind if we go in?” you asked.

“yeah i love this place,” she responded as she opened the door for you to walk in. the bell chimed and you were amazed at the sight of the long book shelves that covered the walls and littered in columns down the center. there was a section of comfy chairs towards the back you could see peeking out behind a cart of books waiting to be unloaded. you see plants hanging from the ceiling in front of the tall windows towards the side of the bookshop.

“ellie! oh my gosh! how nice to see you!” you heard as you followed the sound of the voice. it was a short older lady probably around her 60s, with long grey hair and she walked with a cane. she made her way over and engulfed ellie in a hug. “oh my! how have you been?” the lady said as she pulled away, “and who’s this lovely lady?” as she grabbed your hand to shake.

ellie laughed as she said, “miss ashley, this is y/n.”

“oh you’re lovely!” the sweet old lady said towards you, “ellie doesn’t bring people around so its nice to see she has some friends, especially such pretty ones!” miss ashley laughed and gave you a warm smile.

ellie blushed, “ash please… don’t embarrass me,” she said jokingly putting face into her hands.

“oh nonsense! im just making conversation!” she exclaimed as she let go of your hands, “its so nice to meet you!”

“its nice to meet you too miss ashley!” you responded.

“oh please that makes me feel old, just call me ash! i insist please,” she laughed.

“okay ash,” you smiled, “i love this place, this is what i imagine heaven feels like.” you laughed.

“well you wouldn’t be happening to be looking for a job, would you?” she joked but your attention was caught as soon as she said those words.

“you’re hiring?” you said almost shocked. you didn’t want to get your hopes up but you’ve been looking for a job since you moved here and you’ve been having no luck. but this place… it was unbelievably beautiful and you could only imagine the peace you would feel working in a place like this.

“yes!” ash said to you, “since my husband passed, its getting hard to keep up with everything, i’ve been looking for the right person to help, ellie helps in her free time, but i cant make her do everything and theres no much i can without some help most days.” she said sounding a little defeated at the mention of her husband.

“well i’d love to come help! this would be great for both of us,” you said towards ash but your eyes met ellie as you spoke, hoping you didn’t cross a boundary with ellie.

“well think about it and get back to me!,” she said and then continued, “now go look around girls! i’ve got something something to do back in the office, but don’t leave without saying goodbye!” she said as she disappeared to a side room behind the cashier counter.

ellie looked at you and tried to apologize, for what miss ashley said and that she hoped she wasn’t too forward, but you just laughed and said that it was funny, and that you didn’t mind the sweet old lady who clearly loved her and meant no harm. curiosity got the best of you as you asked ellie how she knows the lady who might be the nicest person you’ve ever met.

“i actually live in the building next door,” she started as you guys made your way down an isle of fiction books but you stopped in your tracks and interrupted her, “you practically live above a bookstore that’s so cool el!”

“yeah i guess it is, i’ve known her since we moved, my dad was friends with her husband, so we used to come here all the time, it’s one of my favorite places.” ellie told you, “it would be cool for you to work here, i know you’re looking and i wish i could do more to help her but she seems to love you already.” she finished.

“are you sure that’s okay? you’ve just known her for so long and you live righ-“

she cut off your rambling off, “sweetheart it’s actually a great idea and i think you should take it.” she smiled at you as you both continued down the isles, you found a book you’ve had on your list and you picked it up to purchase. ellie and you came across the comic book section and she practically squealed in excitement as she held up a comic that read savage starlight. it was crazy seeing this badass boxer geeking out over comic books, space snd dinosaurs. you never would have thought it but it just makes you like her more.

“oh fuck yeah! i don’t have this one! this is my favorite series ever.” ellie told you smiling.

you guys made your way up to the counter and placed down the book and comic. ellie reached to hit the little bell since ash was in the back still. she made her way out of the back and her face lit up again when she saw you guys.

“hi ladies! is this all?” she spoke as she picked up the merchandise and clicked the price in her outdated sale system.

you opened your bag and grabbed your wallet. ellie tried to beat you to pulling out hers but you put her hand over hers and pushed it down, giving her a smile.

then you pulled out a 20 and handed it over. ash smiled as she finished the transaction, gave you the change and told you thank you.

“id actually like to take you up on the job offer, this place seems so cool!” you responded.

“oh yes! it would be a great help! you can come back on wednesday around 11 for your first shift! we’ll sort paperwork and stuff out then! thank you so much again!” the little lady said across the counter as she handed you your paper bag with ellies comic and your book.

“sounds perfect! i will see you then!” you said.

ellie said goodbye to her and she came around the counter to give you both a hug before you headed out of the store and continued the walk to the cafe.

“well it looks like im employed now, this is exciting” you said as you grabbed ellies hands in yours.

“it looks as so sweetheart, im excited for you!” she said as she squeezed her hand in yours, “now lets eat? and this time i’m paying, to celebrate!”

she then turned you around with a spin to see the cafe to the side of you. it was a cute retro diner that looked like it was straight out of the 90s. how does ellie know the best places? she’s unbelievable, you thought in your head, not being able to stop the smile growing on your face as you looked at her with your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

ellie laughed as she held the door for you as you both walked in and saw a seat yourself sign. you leaded the way across the checker print floor to the last booth in the corner of the right side of the diner, right next to the window.

ellie followed behind you and watched as you picked that booth. the red booth her and joel used to sit at every single they came here. the booth she spent years sitting at with the man who was gone forever. ellie felt her chest tighten as you took the side she always sat in, leaving ellie the spot that held so many images of her late father. she couldn’t blame you, its not like you were aware of the memories this particular booth held. but ellie couldn’t help that it hurt.

you noticed a sudden change in ellie when she didn’t respond to you as you asked if she had any idea what she wanted as you guys slid into the booth across each other.

“hey el?” you tried to get her attention but she was off in her own head.

you reached over and held her hand which is stopped her fidgeting with the other and she finally looked up at you.

“ellie are you okay?”

“yeah sweetheart… this is just- this booth holds a lot of memories.” she spoke to you with a hint of sadness behind what she said, “haven’t sat here since my dad died.”

“els, fuck, im sorry should we move over there-“

she has a habit of cutting off your rambling with a squeeze of your hand and saying to you, “hey no it’s okay, it’s nice to sit here again, it’s been so long but i’m glad you’re here with.”

you made sure ellie was okay with staying before you guys took a look at the menu when the waitress came around and introduced herself, telling you her name and she started you and ellie off with a round of hot coffee while you guys looked over the breakfast section.

“okay ellie… i have a serious question.” she looked up from the menu and made direct eye contact with you before you proceeded talking with the most serious look on your face, “waffles or pancakes?”

“not the biggest fan of pancakes, definitely fuck with waffles more,” ellie laughed but the sadness couldn’t help but show up again as she thought about joel again. he didn’t really like pancakes either. ellie thought about the last time her and joel were here, a couple days before he passed. she wished she remembered more of him.

interrupting her thoughts, the waitress came back for your order which for you was waffles with scambled eggs and bacon and ellie got the same thing as you too.

you talked about how nice it was to see parts of the town you didn’t even know existed and that you and ellie got to explore it together, you told her “thank you for bringing you to places that were special to her.”

ellie beamed, “im glad i got to show you sweetheart.”

about 10 minutes later, the waitress brought over your plates and you guys started to dig in to the so needed breakfast. you watched as ellie drowned her food enough that syrup was over her entire plate, laughing as you told her “theres not even any food left at this point, its allllll syrup.”

“hey leave me alone! this is the best part!” she said as she cut a bit and brought it to her mouth as the syrup dripping down her chip. you watched as she licked her lips as she swallowed looking you dead in the eye. all you could think about was kissing her again. the way her lips felt on yours, how her hands covered your body and the goosebumps she left. ellie noticed your eyes change as you thought about it and didn’t speak.

“whatcha thinking ‘bout sweetheart?” ellie finally asked with an innocent smile on her face but she was feeling the same way you did, she couldn’t help the thoughts of last night, staying wrapped around your warm body, the way your lips connected with hers and how you begged for her to kiss you again. she only wonders what would have happened if you guys didn’t stop.

“how good this fo- food tastes el duh,” you stuttered. ellie laughed and mumbled a “sureeee.”

you guys finished your food up and continued drinking the coffee that was refilled a couple minutes ago before you asked for the check. the waitress sat down the receipt and ellie slammed her hand down on to of it before you could snatch it up and treat her again.

“what did i tell you? tsk tsk tsk” she made the noise with her mouth, “i’m getting breakfast,” she said as she pulled her wallet from her back pocket and sat cash on the table. “done with the coffee sweetheart?” as soon as she asked you took your final sip before adding it to the table of empty dishes you piled up for the waitress to make it a little easier for her.

“now i am.” you gave her a smile. she returned it and stood up throwing her backpack over her shoulder, before holding out her hand for you to hold. you gripped her hand as she gently pulled you out of the booth and let you walk first. you walked the diner to the front door before you opened it before the both of you.

as you stepped out of the diner, you wondered if this was a date? you knew it wasn’t said but this would be a great first date if it was. bookshop and a diner with ellie. you’ve never just been out before like this.

in your last relationship, the one that sent you running from new york, you never left the house, she wouldn’t let you. you couldn’t go out with your friends, leading them to stop talking to you because “it was pointless” in being your friend anymore. it hurt but you couldn’t escape it, you knew it was bad being shut in like that but you didn’t want to face your ex girlfriend.

you spent 2 years in that abusive relationship and couldn’t be more happy to get away but the thought of her finding you was always a thought that never left the back of your head. when you threatened to leave before, she told you she’d always find you and that you would never be able to get away from her. you wonder if you ran far enough away from her. hopefully half a country away was enough.

as you both stood out on the sidewalk trying to figure out what your next plans were since it was only about 3pm, ellie asked if you wanted to head to her apartment. you told her yes and you started the walk back down the street you came. hand in hand, the bookstore came in view on the corner and you knew you were close. she brought you down the connecting street to the building next door to a green door with chipped paint. she pulled her keys from her front pocket and unlocked the door.

inside was a stairway to the second floor and a door at the other opposite side of the front door. it was nice entrance with a door mat and a nice table against the wall with some fake flowers and some little decorations.

“ash lives downstairs actually, this is all hers.” ellie told you as she saw you looking the trinkets.

“aw that’s so nice,” you said as she lead you up the stairs to a another green door. ellie unlocked her front door and she held it for you to walk inside. she flicked on the light as she pulled the door shut and locked it. you were taken back at how nice her apartment was. you stepped more into her apartment and took a deep look around.

she had a wall of vinyls next to a record player and stereo system and 2 guitars, one electric and another dark wood acoustic with a moth on the neck. she had a couple plants in her window and a few on the fireplace in the middle of the open living room, connected to her a bit outdated kitchen (but it added to the ambiance) she had a playstation connected to her large tv screen across from a long grey couch. the door to the bathroom was open so you can only assume the one that’s shut across the room is her bedroom. band posters littered her walls and picture frames sat around her living room. a bookshelf full of comic books and action figures along with a series of books on space.

she walked over to the couch and dropped her bag as you followed her and took a seat on the couch. it was so comfy, it was unbelievable. she grabbed the remote and handed it to you telling you to turn on whatever. you did as you watched from the side as ellie emptied the contents of her book bag which consisted of her jar of weed, her rainbow grinder and a pack of papers.

“hm sweetheart?”, ellie said getting your attention, “m gonna take a shower, mind rolling one for when im done?” she smiled at you.

“yeah sure els!” you said as you picked up the pack of papers. she smiled and walked into her bedroom. you heard the shower turn on you finished prepping a couple papers. you packed the grinder, then started stuffing each one them, licking them shut and placing them back on the table. once you finished, you were watching community as yours eyes darted around ellie’s living room and landed on a picture of her with dina and your brother.

you got up from the couch and walked over and picked it up, examining it. they almost look young in the photograph, you wonder what it would have been like if you were here with them at that time instead of now. how life would have been if you weren’t stuck in new york with her. you placed it back down on the table when another frame caught your eye. you made your way over to the bar area it sat on and held it in your hand.

this must be ellie and her dad.

it was a picture of them in a stable feeding a horse, she had to have been like only fifteen in the photo. “she was so cute,” you thought. you stared at the man who you assume was her dad. he had darker but greying hair, he seemed so young in the picture but it was only taken a couple years ago.

you jumped as you heard ellie speak behind you. you didn’t even hear the water turn off. “joel, that was his name.” she said, you turned around to see her standing right behind you, “our relationship was complicated but he was a good man, taught me most of what i know,” she took the frame from your hands and held it in her own, looking down at it, “but i miss him… you know i planned to ask him to watch a movie that night on the day he passed… but it never happened.” ellie said as her thumb brushed over him in the photo.

you held one of ellies hand over the photo and you gave her a small smile, “i wish i would have met him, he seems like he was a great dad els, i know he’d be proud of you.” she looked to meet your eyes, “thank you sweetheart… really thank you.” she smiles as she puts the picture back down. as soon as it was out of her hands, you couldn’t help but wrap your arms around her and squeeze. she returned your hug instantly and rested her chin on your shoulder and her hands made their way to your hips.

“aw sweetheart what was that for?” ellie joked as she pulled her face away but kept her hands on your waist. you swear you skin burned every time she touched you.

“els cmon,” you rolled your eyes jokingly at her, “you know why, now are you ready to smoke?” you wiggled your eyebrows at her and she moved you guys towards the couch.

you both got comfy as ellie lit up a joint and you switched on the movie stepbrothers. you got comfy when ellie grabbed a big blanket from a basket next to her couch and she put it over both of you, you scooted closer to her, putting her arm over the back of the couch behind your neck and you cuddled close to her chest, breathing in the wonderful scent of her. as you started the movie, ellie leaned forward grabbing a joint off the table, putting in her mouth and lit it with her free hand.

she took a big hit and blew the smoke out. you watched her as she took her next hit. ellie realized you were watching her and couldn’t help but smile. “you know its rude to stare sweetheart?” she spoke as she took her last hit and held it out to pass to you.

“oops!,” you shook your head and grinned towards her, grabbing the joint as you looked at ellie’s tattooed arm, then back up at her face. the freckles that painted her cheeks and could help yourself as the words left your mouth, “you’re so beautiful els sorry can’t help it.”

you saw the blush creep up on her cheeks as she told you, “so are you sweetheart.”

eventually you guys finished the movie and ellie picked the next one, superbad, one of her favorites she told you, but you guys paused before you started it. ellie stood up and went to the kitchen on the other side of the living room. she looked through the cabinets until she pulled out a bag of doritos and some sprite in a can back to the coffee table for you to snack on during the movie.

when she sat, ellie lit up another a joint and you and her got comfy on the couch as you hit play on your next movie. smoking and laughing over the film, you and ellie got caught up in talking. it felt like you’d known each other for years, the way the conversation flowed and the way you guys connected. you could talk about anything for hours and you know you’d never get bored.

cue to the movie credits and the bag of chips is empty and the soda is drank up, you were laying on ellie’s couch, your legs spread over the top of her lap as she sat up, her hand rubbed up and down your leg under the blanket you were sharing. it was calming but still sent butterflies through your whole body everytime her long fingers made another pass up and down.

your eyes fixated on ellie as she picked up the remote and started looking for something else to watch. she scrolled through a bit before she turned to ask what you were thinking you guys should watch, catching you staring at her yet again. you were nervous to speak but what you wanted to ask her had to be said.

“when i’m with you i don’t feel so… alone.” you admitted to her, “i really like you els, i’ve never felt this way about anyone, i mean there was just one time i thought i did, but it wasn’t like this… this is different.” you paused, looking at her, her face was soft as she listened to you admit this and you can see the grin growing on her face as you finished speaking, “and i know we haven’t known each other long but the last thing i expected when i moved here was to met someone as great as you. i want this els… if you do to of course.” as soon as she knew you were done speaking, it happened so fast.

ellie’s lips connected with yours. she leaned over you as her free hand reached up to your left side of face to pull you closer to her, her other hand had moved from your leg to your thigh now. chills ran down your body as your lips moved with hers slowly but filled with urgency. your hand moved to the back of ellie’s neck, your fingers tangled in her hair and she couldn’t help the moan that escape from her mouth. you took that to to your advantage and introduced your tongue into the already deep kiss. “oh sweetheart,” she mumbled against your lips before copying your actions before she moved on top of you faster than you could blink.

ellie could feel your heart start beating faster as one of her legs slid between both of yours. your lips were warm against hers, the way your fingers stayed gripped in her hair as you pulled on it when the kiss grew sloppy but it was still passionate as ever. ellie needed you, in every possible. she wanted to feel your lips all over her, she loved the way your body molded to hers as she was on top of you, how you fit perfectly under her. how you moaned so low and that it made her body ache for more of you.

ellie couldn’t help but break apart the kiss as she got overwhelmed by her thoughts and had to catch her breath. as much as she wanted to keep kissing you like the world was ending, she didn’t want to rush this yet, yes she can’t wait for it to happen but it was worth the wait, she knew it would be worth it. foreams holding her up, ellie’s forehead rested against yours as she opened her eyes to see you, underneath her, practically panting with your eyes still shut as you caught your breath too.

ellie couldn’t help but lift her head off yours and stare at you while you laid under her like this. your hair was sprawled out messily against the pillow your head was resting on, your shirt was twisted around your body, and your lips were slightly pink and swollen. she could get used to this, ellie thought in her head, seeing you look this gorgeous in a position like this.

you opened your eyes to see ellie staring at you and smiled towards you as she started speaking, “i want you sweetheart.” she said, “i want this to happen, so badly.” she stopped as she pulled her hands up to your face again, hands on either cheek as she brought her head down to kiss you softly, “‘m gonna take you out on a real date sweetheart, ‘m gonna show you how much i want all this, all of you.” she said giving you another kiss, this one lasted a few seconds longer.

“els, i want you too.” you spoke as you placed a kiss on the lips of the the girl who’s on top of you right now. when you pulled back, ellie couldn’t help but place another peck on your lips before she sat up, moving from laying between your legs, but she did move them right back on her lap, sitting closer to you now. you smiled at her as she grabbed your hands with hers, rubbing them with her thumb over the backside as she started talking.

“i feel less alone when i’m with you too,” she took a deep breath before continuing, “‘m gonna get serious for a second if that’s okay?” she questioned looking up at you, you gave her a nod with a smile on your face, before she looked back down at your hands in hers, “joel… when he passed, we were finally starting to build a relationship again. we weren’t very close before he died, dumb shit happened and i just couldn’t forgive him… and as soon as i did, he was gone … it wrecked me- fuck ‘m sorry- its still wrecking me- he taught me so much, he showed me so much… the only time i’m not thinking about him is when i’m with you sweetheart. i hate talking about him, i feel like once i start im not gonna be able to stop but- i just- i need you to know that i’m trying… because you make me want to enjoy my life again.” you hung on everything she spoke, watching the words fall from her lips as she played with your fingers in her hand, a habit you notice she does to her own hands when she’s nervous.

“ellie, you’re not alone in this, i’m sorry you never fully got the closure you needed, you do not ever say you’re sorry for opening up about how you’re feeling, i’m listening if you ever do want to talk about it.. no pressure els but i think it helps to open up to someone and get some things off your chest. im always here for you ellie. i’m still wrecked about some things myself so just know there’s never any jugdgement from me,” you squeezed her hands in yours, showing her you were serious about what you were saying. she lifted her head to look at you, “you make me happy els, i didn’t think i’d get to experience this again…” you paused nervously before she gave your hands a gentle squeeze, showing you that she’s listening and giving you the courage to tell her what happened.

“back in new york, i was in a relationship with this girl. i lived there for about 4 years and we met during my second year of college through a mutual friend… it was great at first, ya know? we connected so fast that within a couple months of being together she ended up moving in with me, that was the first mistake,” you laughed to yourself before continuing, “once we lived in the same place, it made it so much easier for her to control me… she wouldn’t let me leave the house unless it was for work, i couldn’t see my friends, she came home drunk and angry all the time and always accused me of things i would never do, she’s the reason i had to drop out of college while she stayed enrolled and became a lawyer… ” you took a deep breath trying to contain your emotions, you didn’t like talking about this, you didn’t want ellie to see you as a victim. you were so much stronger than even you thought and you hoped she saw that side of you before the other one.

“she made me feel horrible and insecure, …she was extremely manipulative, also i knew she was sleeping with someone else too, i saw messages from her coworker and they were more than slightly suggestive,” you chuckled, almost losing your train of thought as you caught and held your focus to ellie’s hand touching yours comfortingly. “the first time she hit me… it could have been worse, that sounds bad but i don’t know. by the last time she hit me, i dreamed it was the first time again so that it wouldn’t hurt that much.” you could feel the tears well in your eyes.

“the day after when she left for work, i packed as much of my stuff as i could into my car and just left. i didn’t leave a note, i changed my phone number and deleted my social media. it was the best decision i ever made. i don’t know if this was too much to share but i wanted you to know that you aren’t alone in not being okay els, we got this.” you gave her hand a final squeeze as you waited for her to respond.

it took her a minute to process everything you said again before she spoke up, “oh sweetheart… ‘m so sorry that happened to you.” she said disconnecting her hands from yours to move them to hold both sides of your face, looking straight into your eyes, “you’re the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, i’m sorry that she made you feel like that, you don’t deserve any bit of that, wish i knew you back then so all of that never would have happened to you but i promise sweetheart, you will be safe with me. you will always be safe.”

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist :) thank u sm for the support!!!!

@lookforthelight1 @ucannotcompare @diddiqueen @mikellie @vvitchesh3x @benthoee @bready101 @all-things-0dd @bunlikean-angel @mulan-but-gay @lovejuliettq

#the last of us #ellie williams #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x reader #tlou series #tlou game #ellie tlou #tlou2 #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us

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lieswetell · 5 months

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IFHY (Jordan Li x Alt!Reader) PT 1

Tags~ roommate au, enemies to lovers, alt reader, tattooed reader, slow burn, supe!reader, afab!fem!reader

Warnings~ angry sex, jordan might be a lil mean, porn w plot bc im freaky like that, drugs, alcohol, gay shit

Monday, August 7th

“It’s only one semester. This will be over before you know it,” Mia said.

You want to hear her out and try to be optimistic about the situation, but it’s complicated. Having your own dorm was rare in Godolkin. Students who did usually paid an ungodly amount for the extra privacy or were gifted one because of their current sponsors. For you, in your previous two years, it had been a mixture of both.

“This is bullshit.” You complain and have to force yourself not to roll your eyes at your phone.

Mia hadn’t done anything wrong. She was doing everything she could to get you what you wanted. However, it wasn’t playing out in your favor this time. You were still in your dorm, trying to cling on to that last bit of single dorm life you could, even though you were moments away from the move.

“Look. I love you, but there isn't anything else I can do. Some of these kids will probably be out in a few months.” Mia tried to help you look on the bright side of the situation.

You have yet to respond to what your assistant was telling you. Instead, you just kept looking around the now-empty dorm with a mournful gaze.

“Shetty says it’s a large roo-” Mia added.

“My room was plenty big enough,” You complained again. This time, the words came out in a sort of whine that would remind anyone else of a toddler.

You got up from the floor and wiped your hands on your pants. After taking a deep breath, you closed the last bin in your room.

“One semester.” You sighed.

“One semester,” Mia said, her voice a lot more positive than yours.

“When are you recording that video for-”

“Alright, look at the time the moving team is here. Can’t be late.” You cut her off and blew her a kiss before hanging up on her.

The moving team wasn’t anywhere near your room, and you knew that. If you focused, you could hear everyone in the building. There wasn’t a trace of dickheads with whistles anywhere near you.

The Godolkin University moving team usually consisted of sophomore students with too much strength to know where to put it. Many were from various clubs or programs that forced them to help incoming students.

You started to stack your bins and luggage outside of your room on your own. Typically, the moving team would assist the students. Still, it was effortless for you to carry the items, and you thought if you looked around your dorm for any longer, you might burst into tears. That wasn’t very productive or good for your image if anyone were to see it. So you popped in your earbuds and started to lift the bins. When finished you put the label on your crate 465.

With the headphones in your ears, you didn’t notice just how much more lively it was. Most of your floormates were in other single dorms with other upper-level students. So you would only really run into a few people if any, daily. With the influx of incoming students moving in, you would easily have trouble avoiding anyone. According to your assistant Mia, every dorm room was filled(yayyyy godolkin for not allowing students to live off campus).

After skipping an array of songs, Spotify somehow thought would suit your style, someone poked you on the shoulder.

“You’re 17#, right? Big fan, honest.”The boy said. Something you noticed everyone said after they wanted to snap a quick picture with someone. You couldn’t complain, though you had no proof this person was lying to you.

“Nice to meet you.” You said and copied the same amount of excitement. The perfect amount to seem genuine but still cool enough to feel above them in that weird way you can only get from social media. You extended your hand, and he shook it eagerly.

You didn't feel that way, of course. That’s just the game and how you needed to perform. All to get where you needed to be. Being a hero was a machine full of moving parts, and Mia has been training you since you were fourteen.

“Can I get a picture?” He asked, and you nodded before he could get the sentence out.

Always…

“Always always…” you answered happily. You quickly adjusted your hair and gave the boy a side hug.

The selfie came out nice. Cute and wholesome. You made sure he tagged you on the picture and used a few of your hashtags. You gazed around, wondering who was assisting him with the move. He just looked around at your bins before looking back up at you.

“Is there anything fragile in there?” He asked awkwardly. It seems he hadn't shaken off the nerves from meeting you. It was so silly to you. You weren’t Homelander or Queen Maeve.

“Yeah, the fragile stuff is in that box right there. Marked fragile in bold red tape…”

The boy then looked back at you with a look you couldn’t place. Before you could even realize what was about to happen, his arms stretched out to unnatural lengths as if he were made of rubber. He lifted all of your bins simultaneously. He wrapped and stacked them into the carts and secured them as if his arms were bungee cords. It was astonishing. You had never seen that power before, and although it was slightly disgusting, it was cool.

Just as you went to pat him on the back, a box on top crashed to the floor. You heard the glass shatter and knew instantly it was the fragile box he so kindly placed on top of everything to avoid it getting crushed. Just my luck. That was definitely the bong in there that you’ve had for a few years.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I've been stretched out all day. Things are starting to fall out.” he apologized genuinely.

“Lemme guess you are usually super tight?”

Your roommate was finished moving all of her things to the other side of the room. It definitely started as a struggle, but after a bit of time, Jordan started to get the hang of it. Early in the process, he was just bitching to himself about having to do this in the first place. He didn't really have anyone to complain about it to. His friends were rooming with each other, and he was the only one stuck rooming with a new person.

His parents didn't understand his frustrations, and instead, they were just happy he would be rooming with a girl. Jordan tried explaining his irritation to Brink, but that was also a no-go. All Brink did was reframe the situation by saying it could somehow make Jordan a better hero.

“Are there seriously no fucking quads in this place?” Jordan complained to no one.

He sat on his loveseat on his couch and scrolled on his phone. He debated not being in the room when his new roommate arrived. Jordan heard that people had done that, but he was too nervous to do it himself. What if you stole something? What if you wanted to put your stuff on his side? Maybe you were a weird freshman? Or worse, a fan of him?

He sat back on the couch. His feet were planted firmly in front of him, and he scrolled on his phone. It was a position he often found himself in. In this form, his feet were actually able to reach the floor when he sat all the way back on the couch comfortably. In the other one, her feet dangled and gave off a less intimidating look than the one he was currently in.

There was a soft knock on the door. Jordan rolled his eyes and stayed in his position. Why would he open the door? If they were supposed to be moving in, they surely would have a key, right? He looked at his door open. Jordan wasn’t really sure what to expect to be standing in the doorway.

When the ugly beast finally reared its head, Jordan finally exhaled. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until you waved at him.

“Hi” You said

It’s all you can offer him at the moment. The little helper you had assisting you barged in soon after you greeted Jordan. Jordan didn't even say anything to you. He just looked at you from his spot on the loveseat then his eyes trailed over to the freshman who couldn’t maintain eye contact with you.

“Looks like! Holy shit Jordan”

“Yeah.” He just nodded, confirming that he was indeed Jordan Li

The freshman stood awkwardly with your things and stared at Jordan. The interaction was just already a lot weirder than it needed to be. So you stood at the door and tried to think of a way to intervene in the impromptu staring contest.

“Thanks. You can just leave it right here. I can do the rest.” You thanked him with a big smile

With another resounding crash, he let go of the bins, and you winced. Jordan even was taken aback by the sound and rolled his eyes

“Are you sure, ma’am?” he asked

He sounded genuine even though he treated your belongings like they were indestructible. You buffered for a moment and realized what he said

“Ma’am? How old do you think- never mind, just leave thanks.” You shooed him away and exhaled softly

“Bye”

He watched you. You unpacked your things, and he stayed put and just watched you. He was cycling through so many things in his head. Being so last minute, this situation didn't give him any time to prepare. The only thing he did was clean and move his shit to one side of the room. He was grateful that he could at least recognize you from the ranking. The unknown was scary like that. Jordan knows you have been slowly climbing your way to the top. Your reputation was squeaky clean. Your brand was sweet, innocent, and confident.

Your brand didn't mean he trusted you, though. Anyone with more than two fucking brain cells at this school knew that your ‘brand’ or ‘online presence’ meant absolutely nothing. Just because you waltz in here with your big smile and wave doesn't mean he will let his guard down. Roommate or not, you still had the potential to be a big fucking dick.

“Yeah, just don’t touch any of my shit, and we should be fine.” Jordan said without looking up from his phone.

He sat comfortably slumped on the sofa. The uninterested appearance he’s in pissed you off. Oh, so he’s just like this? You could do this, though. You wouldn’t let him see that you were frustrated. People like him lived off of that shit, and you wouldn’t give him what he wanted. You just nodded and gave him another smile, one real enough to be convincing.

“I understand. You do have some nice things. Probably wouldn’t want anyone getting into it either.” You said in that cheerful voice that you had been trained to perfect.

That time, Jordan did look at you. He was now thoroughly annoyed and over the roommate situation. In his eyes, he tried. In the twenty minutes you had been in the room, Jordan considered everything he had done ‘trying’. This situation wouldn’t work, though. He just wasn’t built to share rooms with a random person.

Wednesday, September 27th

“Jesus Christ, do you ever fucking fucking knock?!” Jordan shouted

You did knock. You dented the door to your room because you were banging on the door for about ten minutes. You even shot Jordan a few texts saying when you would return to the dorm. Of course, she hadn’t responded to any of them; she never did.

So you said fuck it and broke the lock on your door and walked into the room. Jordan was riding some junior in her bed. The sight wasn’t new to you, so you were unfazed. Seemingly to you, Jordan never really cared about you seeing her naked. It was more of the fact you were interrupting her that was the problem. In the two months you have been rooming with Jordan, you have walked in on her having sex four times.

The first time, it came as a shocker. You squealed and covered your eyes, immediately leaving the room and shooting her a few apology texts. When you left, Jordan just continued on like it was nothing. Like you were just a temporary pause. This time wasn’t like that. You walked in and closed the door behind you.

So you waved at the man who was underneath Jordan on the bed. He looked at you with a confused look, then turned to look back at Jordan, who was bewildered.

“You're not usually my type, but I think I could be down for both of you,” The man said, then looked back up at Jordan curiously.

You just walked toward your desk, sat down, and started up your laptop.

She climbed off him and huffed, “Get out”.

Then the man shuffled awkwardly around the room and tried to pick up his clothes. He slipped the condom off and didn't know what to do with it, so he tried to hand it to Jordan. She pointed towards the door, so he just nodded and held it as he left the room. His clothes were still crumpled in his other hand, covering his dick. You shook your head slightly, knowing that type of thing was far too normalized in this school.

“Do you purposely do that?” Jordan asked you sharply. It was more of an accusation. He barely spoke to you, and when he did, it was always intending to fight.

“Do what?” You asked and logged into the Godolkin portal.

“Wait until I’m using the room to appear out of thin air” She complained and stepped closer to you.

Whenever Jordan spoke to you, it was like they were a nagging little voice that you had to physically restrain yourself from losing your cool with. You didn’t want to risk an argument with Jordan, no matter how much of a bitch she was. It just wasn’t worth it. It would be optimistic to think that Jordan wouldn’t somehow get you lousy press from the situation. It was also optimistic of you to think that one day, Jordan would just stop trying to fight the fact that they would have to live with someone.

Every day you felt like you were seconds from Jordan finally saying fuck it and starting beef with you publicly just to fuck up your rank. Being ranked seventeen wasn’t the best you could be, but to most people, being in the top one hundred was quite an accomplishment. Job security was a hard thing for supes to find, and you weren’t going to fuck up your brand just because Jordan was having a bad day.

“Oh, please. I texted you, Jordan. Multiple times,” It came out with a little more emotion than you intended. Patience wasn’t your strength today.

“You didn’t,” She said flatly.

You huffed and pulled your phone out of your bag. When you pulled up the text chain to show her. You looked away awkwardly when she turned around to grab her phone. For some reason seeing her ass suddenly felt invasive, although she was so chill about it. Once again, she was more pissed about the fact she didn't cum.

“That’s not even my number.” She showed you her Apple ID and rolled your eyes.

“Who’s fault is that?” You asked her this time; your tone couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but annoyed.

Jordan realized what she did and grabbed your phone out of your hand. You scoffed at the action and tried to snatch it back, but she was faster than you. Probably in both forms, unfortunately. Jordan just updated the contact info and handed you back your phone(which you snatched out of her hands immediately).

“You could’ve knocked,” Jordan said, and you did a sharp inhale.

You looked up at her, then back down at your phone at the updated info. It was hard not for you to be pissed about the fact he lied to you. So many arguments could’ve been avoided, but of course, she couldn’t even give you her number.

“I did. For about ten minutes. Maybeyouweretoobusycreamingondicktohearaboutit”

The words came out as a rushed whisper. The struggle of trying to hold your anger was starting to become not only a mental challenge but a physical one.

“What did you say?”Jordan asked. This time, he almost seemed kind of excited, which didn't help you calm your nerves in the slightest.

“The locks broken, by the way. You locked me out, so I had to break it open. I’ll schedule a maintenance worker to check it out around five,” You told him. The facade was back up. You were no longer spewing attitude at him.

The maintenance request was sent, and Jordan was left confused at the sudden change in demeanor. He was excited for a second that it seemed you finally had a moment of real fucking emotion with him. Jordan would much rather be alone in his dorm, but your unwavering positivity threw him off more than he intended.

Jordan could recall a few times he would complain and rant about you to his friends during smoke seshes. It had only been two months, but he felt like he wasn’t even rooming with a natural person. Something about you was too perfect, too clean, just all around, too bland. He was excited to talk to a person for that quick moment there. It's not the brand you posted for everyone to see.

He went back to the other side of the room in defeat. He sat on top of his bed. Jordan never stopped looking at you. You slipped up, and maybe that gave him hope(he would never admit it).

“I need the room at five,” Jordan said.

You furrowed your brows and looked over at the calendar on the wall. Each day that passed, scribbled out with a blue Sharpie. You shook your head and looked over at him.

“You have class. It’s Wednesday,” You said matter of factly.

Jordan rolled his eyes and mumbled

.“No, I don’t.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. He could be so petty sometimes for no reason, and this was one of those moments.

“Did you just disagree with me just because?” You asked him.

Jordan couldn’t think of a comeback or words to say. You talked to him in that weirdly positive tone despite clearly being irritated with him again. Maybe his dick twitched a little, but he ignored that.

“Jordan, put some clothes on, okay?”

“Fuck you”

“Your dick is out”

“Have a great day”

Maintenance fixed the door problem by 5:13 pm. It was a simple fix. A new doorknob was installed, but a couple of dents from your early frustration remained a reminder. Afterward, you were alone in your dorm, struggling to wait forty minutes to join a lecture.

It was a struggle not to nod off in front of your computer. Online classes always felt like a good idea when you signed up for them, but you soon realized they were a trap. It is a carefully crafted trap for you to waste your time on the course because you couldn't keep your eyes open long enough to listen to your professor drone on about the importance of… You fell asleep.

You needed the relief anyway. It was a struggle to keep holding up the illusions you were. The influx of incoming students fucked you over. Having a roommate who hated you meant you were always using your powers. You couldn’t trust him not to try and ruin your brand. The only times you would have a break from having to cast an illusion was when Jordan was out doing whatever the fuck he did besides training and sulking.

Illusions fell around you—your side of the room that was once pale blue and pink warped into black and purple. Your hair, which once seemed to be tied tightly in a bun, fell around your shoulders. The pink sweater you wore was replaced with a black hoodie you had for years. The illusions you had concealing your tattoos shattered. The ink from your arm sleeve peaked out from the wrist of your hoodie.

“Who are you texting?”Andre asked

It was late. Jordan sat on the couch in his friends' dorm and tried not to be bitter that there were only three bedrooms. He typed in his phone, angry you weren’t responding. Why does he have to deal with this? He’s pretty sure when he leaves that, all three of them just crash in the living room in a pile like cavepeople anyways. Andre’s room was always too fucking clean for anyone to actually stay in there.

He leaned over on the couch to try and take a peak at Jrdan’s phone. Jordan leaned away, mildly irritated with his friend. Andre just shrugged and made a face at Cate. Cate rolled her eyes, already knowing where this conversation was going to go. It was the only thing Jordan talked about the past couple of weeks.

“My hell of a roommate,” Jordan complained and rolled his eyes.

You hadn’t responded to the last ten texts he sent. He was trying to be better to you. He might've felt a bit guilty about giving you the wrong number for that long. So now he was trying to do what you would have done for him. He planned on bringing the same guy from earlier back over, but you wouldn’t respond to him.

“Oh, she cant be that bad?” Cate said, trying to be positive about the situation.

“Cute, you guys are texting,” Andre whispered.

Jordan heard him, however, and switched. Before Andre had a chance to react, Jordan slapped him in the back of the head. The touch was light but quick. Andre chuckled softly and then raised both of his hands.

“Well, I’m trying to tell her I'm on my way back to the dorm. Might need it in a few,” Jordan explained and put his phone away.

“Why do you look so stressed?” Luke asked.

To be honest, he was the only one not caught up on the whole Jordan hating her roommate thing. He thought she would get over it in a week, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. Jordan still hated you basically for existing at this point. Luke tried to lock in on the situation, but he was still pretty high from the session that just ended.

“She isn’t fucking responding,” Jordan whined.

“It’s fine. It’s only been like ten minutes,” Luke stated.

Luke’s eyes looked around the room for whatever the fuck he was missing. Cate just laughed beside him.

“Since the last text I sent. I texted her five hours ago,” Jordan added, her arms crossed in front of her.

“It’s probably nothing,” Luke assured her, although he didn't understand why the situation was that.

Serious. Cate understood it, though. Even if, at the time, Jordan didn’t understand, she could have seen it already. Cate had a weird way of just knowing.

“Yeah, what are you so worried about?”Andre asked, raising his eyebrows in a suggestive way.

Jordan looked away and flipped him off. Cate and Andre shared another look, and Jordan wanted to flip the couch over. She didn’t though

“Fuck off, Dre.”

“Who is she again? Freshman?” Cate asked

“No, junior.” Jordan answered.

“Who is it?”Luke asked, hoping that maybe that would explain Jordan’s frustration.

When Jordan answered, none of them had much of a reaction, which wasn’t very satisfying for Jordan. Andre didn’t even know who you were talking about(he didn't pay attention to the rankings much). Cate just nodded, taking in the info. It was always funny to her how the most liked people could be some of the worst. Luke didn't run with Jordan’s opinion of her roommate. He knew how dramatic Jordan could sometimes be, and he was pretty sure she would've hated any roommate she was assigned to just because they were an inconvenience to Jordan.

Jordan didn't like the feeling of being interrogated, so the hangout was cut shorter than normal. Once she answered one question, it was like he opened Pandora’s box of bullshit, and everyone wouldn’t get the spotlight off of her. So, she gave up on reaching out to the guy from earlier and instead was banging on the door of her dorm room like a mad woman.

“Dude, open the fucking door!”Jordan shouted.

He didn't want to break the door again, but the longer he stood outside, the more appealing of an idea it became. Inside the dorm, you were still fast asleep at your desk. The exhaustion from overusing your powers took a severe toll on your body. You had been out cold the entire time. All illusions previously placed on you and your things were deactivated.

“C’mon, this is really petty. Just open up.” Jordan said again, but you couldn’t hear him.

A hard alarm sounded in your ear. You shook your head awkwardly, then scrambled to check your laptop.

Take your pill

You nodded and stood up to take your birth control. You made it three steps before you fell because of the loud bang at your door. Shit. Jordan’s voice yelled something behind the door that you couldn’t quite make out at the moment. All you knew was that you needed to hurry and get all the illusions back up. You waved your hands a bit, trying to tap into Jordan’s psyche once you were confident enough that the illusions were back up, and you dry-swallowed your birth control and made your way to the door.

Act normal

“Hey, sorry I got caught up in studying?” You answered the door with a smile.

“Fine, whatever. I texted you, though.” Jordan looked at you, partially confused

It didn't make sense to him. You went hours without answering him, and your excuse was that you got caught up studying. What the fuck? You didn’t even look tired? Jordan hated you. You closed the door behind him and sat on your bed.

#jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #jordan li

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levisfavoriteteashop · 3 months

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notes: im back! sorry, i know i haven't posted in a while, my motivation wasn't really at its best but it's getting there. anyway, i'm back with a short angsty drabble, it's doesn't really have a plot but it's somethig i came up with and thought it may be worth posting

cw: angst, no comfort

────────────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

The night draped the world in its somber cloak as the moon hung low, casting feeble shadows upon the desolate streets of Trost. Among the ruins stood Levi Ackerman, the weight of countless burdens etched upon his stoic features. His steel-gray eyes scanned the rubble, searching for any semblance of hope amidst the devastation.

Beside him stood you, his trusted comrade and confidante, your presence a flickering beacon in the darkness that threatened to consume him. Sometimes, you were even more, the both of you sharing deep and unspoken feelings, who never got a chance to really blossom. But tonight, even your warmth couldn't penetrate the icy walls he had built around his heart.

"Levi," you whispered softly, your voice trembling with unspoken concern, "Are you okay?"

He didn't respond, his silence cutting deeper than any blade. You reached out, your fingers brushing against his clenched fist, seeking solace in the touch that had once been so reassuring.

"What's wrong?" you pressed, desperation lacing your words.

Finally, he turned to face you, his gaze piercing through the veil of your facade with a raw intensity that left you breathless.

"Everything," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the distant echoes of war. "I promised to protect them... all of them. But I failed. Again."

Tears welled in your eyes as you watched the cracks in his armor widen, revealing the vulnerable soul hidden beneath. You longed to hold him, to chase away the shadows that haunted his dreams, but you knew some wounds ran too deep to heal.

"Levi, you can't blame yourself for everything," you pleaded, your voice breaking with every word. "We're only human. We can't save everyone."

His laughter cut through the silence like a dagger, sharp and bitter with self-loathing.

"Human," he scoffed, his gaze drifting to the heavens above. "Is that what we are? Nothing but pawns in a game we can never hope to win?"

You reached out once more, your hand trembling as you cupped his cheek, willing him to see the light that still burned within you.

"We may be flawed," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the roar of distant cannons. "But that doesn't mean we can't fight. Together."

For a fleeting moment, his defenses faltered, his mask of indifference crumbling under the weight of your unwavering faith. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, leaving only emptiness in its wake.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely a whisper in the wind. "I can't... I can't do this anymore."

And with those words, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone amidst the ruins. Levi Ackerman kept pushing you away everytime, keeping those walls an unshatterable boundary between the two of you. And yet, you would never give up on him.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #attack on titan #levi ackerman angst #drabble

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holy-puckslibrary · 5 months

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━ 𝐬𝐰𝐚𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠.

main masterlist

pairing(s) — JT COMPHER x reader (main); TYSON JOST x reader (side); COMPHER x JOST (brief) wc — 14k synopsis — what's a reunion without some groveling?

note — this takes place a few of years after part one, go out with a bang (post-college/college au — tyson and kate are now out-going seniors!) sorry not sorry for the length of this behemoth, i got carried away per usual <3 there are more parts to come, and i would absolutely love to hear any theories/predictions if yall have any!

specific content warnings listed below the cut.

cw — cameos on cameos on cameos, we're at a party so drinking and mention of dr*gs + yacking (no description), drinking games, sorority terms/processes, me getting too invested in multiple subplots and potential background ships, soft!service!dom!JT makes my peabrain go brrrrr, everybodies a bit masochistic because i, registered heathen, am masochistic, reader’s wearing a short skirt for plot reasons, slight compher x josty, oral (reader receiving 2x), unprotected piv (i know, i know, i know i need help), me letting my brat self take the kink reins, praise baby praise, angst AND IM NOT SORRY, + happy fluffy bits... possible cliffhanger???

Staring up at the Alpha Chi house is like stepping back in time.

Like trying on an old pair of shoes you found while deep-cleaning your closet only to find their once-perfect fit gone. Growth is funny that way; you never realize just how far you’ve come until it pinches you.

You’ve outgrown this place, though not from a lack of love or any great tragedy. It occupies a different place in your mind, just as you’re a different person than you were three years ago.

Your younger self would balk at this development, wouldn’t believe it’d one day feel too small. You can’t fault her for that near-sightedness. In college, your whole world existed on one street. You had everything you needed then between two stop signs.

But your world is bigger now, and your needs are different too.

Still, it feels good to try on your past for the night. Even if it's a tad ill-fitting.

The drive between your new life and your old one hadn’t been too bad, but that’s probably because you didn’t do much of said driving. JT got the engine going before you could even make a grab for the keys and, despite spending the last year in the literal trenches of clinical rotations and shelf exams, refused to switch at the halfway mark. Yet, your boyfriend is practically vibrating with excitement as you cross the all-too-familiar threshold hand-in-hand.

“This is so weird,” JT remarks, his lips low to your ear. His musky cologne, warm and woody, does its best to soothe your nerves.

As you survey the crowd, you nod.

He didn’t need to elaborate further for you to understand because you were already thinking the very same thing. Watching students, the vast majority as unfamiliar to you as you are to them, milling around your old haunt stirs an odd, uncanny feeling akin to a surreal dream. You’re well-acquainted with the setting, almost to an uncomfortable degree, and you don’t think you’re all that different, but everything still feels foreign.

All the right pieces are there, and you’re sure you’ve put them in their proper places, but the image won’t behave.

You quickly realize the only thing that’s misplaced is you. Grief hangs from your back like a wet blanket.

“Look what the cat dragged in, boys!”

A burst of riotous laughter shakes much of the gloom from your system.

Gabe Landeskog barrels into your boyfriend like an overgrown puppy. Gray-blue eyes twinkling under the rainbow of LEDs, he embraces you both in a warm hug, not minding that the spontaneous act of affection has just cost him an entire Solo cup.

“Compher and the missus,” the blonde addresses you both with a wide grin and a big palm to a cheek each; he gives JT’s a quick pat but merely cups yours.

His breath still smells of spearmint and something spicy, an imposing combination your eighteen-year-old self could never find comforting. Just another thing that's different now. If you could package the scent for all the little moments of nostalgia, you would.

“I was starting to think we’d have to drag you from the city kicking and screaming, but alas! You've left the cozy, vanilla bubble of your own volition for a weekend of debauchery with your favorite degenerates.”

JT’s affectionate eye-roll is big and dramatic even in your periphery. The levity brings a smile to your face. It grows wider and wider, enduring until your cheeks burn. If anyone deserves some light-heartedness, it's your sleep-deprived, perpetually-stressed boyfriend.

“A night, Landy. We’ve got to be back by tomorrow night to relieve the dog sitter,” your boyfriend amends with a pat to Gabe’s flushed cheek, returning the favor.

The older man groans like the overgrown boy he is and will always be. “Look at you, Mr. Responsible. All domestic and shit. With a fur-baby and everything. I bet it’s as well-trained as your firstborn.”

Your eyes follow the line drawn by Gabe’s strong chin past the entryway through to the room used for table-top drinking games.

Half-kneeling on the rickety table you helped customize a few years back is Tyson Jost, head tilted to the sky as he guzzles down the center cup. More beer spills down his chest than into his mouth, effectively turning his white tee sheer. The crowd is comprised mostly of giddy sorority girls who don't mind a bit.

Free booze and a free show—lucky them!

Once the plastic cup is empty, he crushes it in his palm before sinking the balled plastic into the basketball hoop on the adjacent wall. The converted dining room swells with hoots and hollers so quickly you would’ve thought Tyson emerged from some mythic quagmire, blood-soaked and victorious. But there are no winners in Rage Cage; everybody loses.

Tyson’s loopy grin falters when he registers you and JT on either side of Gabe.

You would like to say nothing’s changed between the three of you over the past couple of years. That you’re just as close as you’d been in college, that distance hadn’t done as much damage as it has.

You'd be lying if you did.

You tried your best to keep him in the loop; you really did, but that didn’t end up mattering much.

JT hardly had time to socialize with you most of the time, and you’ve practically lived together since graduation. He, like you, tried, but at some point, his bandwidth could no longer accommodate Tyson’s sporadic texts and calls. Many of which came in the dead of night, when your boyfriend’s head was either buried in a textbook or in the pillow beside yours.

Whenever you could, you invited the forward to spend the weekend in the city with the two of you. You even went so far as to offer to put him up in a hotel between your and JT’s respective apartments, knowing your adult salary could stretch further than the Atomic tips he was splitting with Tyler. He always had something conflicting going on, and it didn't feel like your place to question the authenticity of his reasons, so you just kept extending the invitation, hoping things would align eventually.

After finally taking the leap and signing a lease together, you decorated the guest room with Tyson in mind. He’s yet to see it, still.

Your little Kate, on the other hand, needs a frequent flyer program.

A small part of you felt this shift was inevitable once JT went from best friend-slash-unrequited crush to full-blown, live-in boyfriend. Despite Tyson’s insistence on you finally hooking up and “putting everyone out of their misery,” his smile didn’t meet his eyes when JT broke the news that it wasn’t a one-night thing.

Maybe his “little crush” hadn’t been so little after all.

If that’s the case, you can't blame him for avoiding your slice of grown-up love like the plague. It just would've been nice if he hadn't left you in the dark, wondering where and how you fucked up enough to get iced out.

Tyson responded to every third or so text of yours, so you mostly kept up with him and his life through Kate, who briefly dated him between ill-fated Gunnar stints, and social media. You weren’t sure how often he spoke to JT; after several attempts that ended with your boyfriend clammed up and irritated, you stopped asking.

Judging by how tense he is beside you right now, you have a pretty good guess.

“Yikes,” Gabe drawls. “Trouble in paradise?”

You remain carefully quiet, allowing your boyfriend to decide what, if anything, to share. This—whatever it is —feels like it's more so between them two than Tyson and yourself.

JT clears his throat so hard it cuts through the music blaring through the packed house—some remix you don’t remember learning the words to. “Trouble? Nah, Josty’d have to give us the time of day for that.”

Gabe laughs, but you know JT isn’t trying to be funny. You can taste the undercurrent of bitter resentment. It’s impossible not to without an artificial buzz.

There’s no time to dwell because a flurry of red hair darts through the crowd dispersing out of the dining room and straight into your arms. A fresh, but faintly-candied scent tickles your nose as the cool metal of a bracelet digs into your neck.

Kate.

“Fuckin finally!” The almost-grad squeals directly into your ear.

Definitely drunk. Or high—or both.

“Don’t look at me,” you say, beaming when she pulls back. “I wasn’t driving.”

Kate swats JT’s chest with her open palm. “And this is why we don’t let you drive anywhere, Grandpa.”

The playful jab makes your smile deepen. His driving made her tardy to a ZBZ charity gala one time over a year ago when she made the mistake of hitching a ride with you, and she’s probably brought it up a million times since. Kate pretends to hold a grudge, JT pretends to find it aggravating, and you get to sit back, enjoying the warm camaraderie overfilling your cup.

The pair have been friends almost as long as you've been friends with either of them, but since your graduation, they’ve settled into something more serious and more genuine. Where your connection to Tyson wilted outside the conveniences of college, your relationship with Kate matured and flourished. She’s more than just your chapter-appointed Little Sister to JT now, having become more of a true sister than anything else. Hence the juvenile teasing.

“Well, we’re here now. Alive.”

Your little snatches your hand in hers, tugging you away from JT, who feigns offense.

“And now I’m stealing your girlfriend in retribution for making me wait. Go do… whatever it is you two heathens used to do at parties. We have a pong title to defend.”

“Excellent idea, Madame President,” Gabe declares, hands roughly massaging the male ginger’s shoulders. He tosses a wink in Kate’s direction.

Before the other ginger can drag you away for good, your boyfriend catches your free wrist, pulling you back to him so his lips can find your ear. Breath hot, he drops his voice an octave, “President’s bathroom. One hour. Nod if you understand.”

Your chin dips, quick and subtle confirmation.

“Good girl.”

As your respective keepers separate you, JT shoots you a wink of his own. Then, you lose him in the crowd.

Kate leads you through the sea of party-goers to the living room, her grip on you tight and comforting. Her thumb rubs small circles on the inside of your wrist as you approach the table, almost as if privy to your worry. Kate is incredibly perceptive; she can read someone’s mind without even looking at them. With you, her Spidey senses transcend county lines, so it’s no real surprise she deduced your current condition from no more than your erratic pulse thumping against her palm.

When you reach the bustling folding table commandeered for the BP tournament, Kate does all the talking.

It’s not too hard to get on the bracket despite the late entry with two newly-minted Alpha Chi brothers manning the post. The absolute last thing they want to do is get on the bad side of the president of their sister chapter (Kate) and the girlfriend of a legendary former chapter president (you). The pairs for the current game are only a couple of throws in, so it’s going to be at least ten minutes before it's your turn.

“You, my dear, look thirsty,” Kate declares through a mischievous grin.

You let her pull you towards the kitchen across the hall but have more difficulty than you expect actually getting there. Every few steps, someone stops either you or Kate. Mostly the latter, but she’s quick to show you off to whoever’s trying to seize her attention. Apparently, Kate’s been building quite the mythos of your time on campus, and it’s very… dizzying, to say the least.

“Kit-Kat!”

Kate abandons the poor freshman boy shooting his shot (and missing fantastically) in favor of the feminine voice sliding into the conversation.

In the blue-ish hue washing over the small space, you’re having a hard time placing her, but she seems very keen on making your acquaintance.

“Blake Meyers,” the newcomer announces, extending her hand with a smile.

You take it, giving her your name and a matching expression in return. The flattened vowels are distinct and recognizable, as is the last name.

“Meyers?” you ask, attempting to work it out.

“Ava’s younger sister,” Kate interjects. “And one of our best steals this past recruitment.”

Blake blushes so brightly her freckles disappear.

You remember that feeling. What it was like to have an older member, especially someone as established and accomplished as an outgoing ZBZ president, go out of their way to make you feel special. You have zero doubt Blake will be walking on air for the foreseeable future, any of the common little doubts about whether or not she made the right choice vanishing.

“I was really hoping I’d get to meet you tonight,” the freshman tells you bashfully. “Kate gave the most beautiful speech about you and your legacy on Preference Night, and when she told me you might be coming with your boyfriend, I had to put a face to the name. And Jenny was the one who pref-ed me, so it seemed like—I don’t know, a non-negotiable?”

Jenny is one of the twins Kate took her junior year, and she couldn’t have picked better. It gave you peace of mind knowing your Kate would have good people around her once you couldn’t physically be there for her.

You won’t be surprised if Jenny takes Blake as her little. Kate pref-ed her, and before that, you pref-ed Kate. It’s basically a family tradition.

Not long after you thank Kate for her generous words and Blake for her kindness, Thomas, one of the new initiates in charge of the beer pong table, flags you down for your game. Not ready to end your conversation, invigorated by the breezy, jovial chatter your new life lacks, you tug Blake along with you.

Between exceptionally beautiful throws (if you do say so yourself), you learn more about Blake and her roommate and fellow ZBZ spring initiate, Emory. They pepper you with questions: about your first-year college experience, advice on getting the best room possible on the sophomore floor for mandatory live-in, whether or not you got anything particularly valuable in the various leadership positions you held, and what fraternities to steer clear of. You’re more than happy to answer them all. Kate sprinkles in comments and jokes occasionally, but she mostly defers to you so she can celebrate the end of a smooth second term as president.

Once Kate and you have successfully defended your title, you pass the torch to the future of your chapter. Blake and Emory make quick work of the first challengers and are close to a similar sweep with the second pair when your little remembers her earlier mission: refreshments.

This time, you both keep your heads ducked as you speed through the dancing bodies and make a beeline for the dinged-up lockers propped against the wall. You can’t help but smile when you see her reach for the lock—your old lock.

Every upperclassman (and a few select friends of the chapter, like Alpha Chi Sweethearts such as Kate and, once upon a time, yourself) is assigned a secure, personal locker in the oversized kitchen for quick access to personal items. During parties, they essentially become personal coolers. At your very last formal chapter meeting, you will-ed the hunk of metal down to Kate, along with the more sentimentally valuable items you wanted to leave behind with her.

“Wait, can you even drink?” Kate asks you from where she’s kneeling. Sarcasm scrunches her brows together.

“Hilarious,” you reply with a playful glare. “And before you loudly ask about the non-existent fetus like the devious bitch you love being, don’t. Unless you want to give JT an aneurysm."

Kate fishes out two slim, chilled cans as she grumbles about how boring you two have become in your “old age.” She shoves a ratty sweatshirt—an old favorite of Tyson’s—back into the small locker, quickly refastens the lock, and scrambles the dial. Then, she returns to her full height beside you.

“So, do you want to tell me what that wink from Gabe was about?” you ask, brow cocked.

“Do you want to tell me what your horndog of a boyfriend whispered in your ear?” Kate counters.

“Touché.”

Kate cracks open a Spindrift Spiked and slots it into your waiting palm. She taps the rim with her own, then sighs back against the cluttered kitchen island. She’s going to crack, you know it. Kate, even when she has a secret she wants to keep, never stays quiet for long. Especially not when you’re the one doing the asking.

“Okay, so, d’you remember how Tyson was, like, completely apathetic after we broke up right before Heaven & Hell last Halloween?”

You nod, recalling how irritated she was over FaceTime while you helped her pick a costume out of your box of hand-me-downs. You did your best not to laugh because Kate was clearly distressed, but it was kind of hard not to when she was buried in a heap of red and white feathers, wearing a too-small tutu dotted with rhinestones.

Kate takes a sip of the spiked strawberry lemonade before elaborating, “Well, I was understandably pissed—Don’t give me that look, okay? I know I broke up with him, but he shouldn’t have been that blasé that soon—so, I hatched a plan.”

You shake your head, laughing. Kate and her schemes.

“I wasn’t planning on taking Gabe as my date, but when I ran into him at Atomic the day before… I don’t know; I just couldn’t resist. I mean, Tyson worships the man. If anyone’s getting a reaction, it’s Landy. I had to.”

“And?” you prod.

“And…” she stalls, eyes darting around the kitchen in search of pesky eavesdroppers, cheeks lit up like a Christmas tree. “…we might’ve done it in the backseat of his truck.”

“I’m scared to ask where.”

She buries her face in your shoulder. “The venue’s parking lot.”

Your eyes bulge so hard you, for a split-second, worry they’ll pop out of your head onto the sticky hardwood and land amongst the discarded cans.

“And I didn’t tell you because I was so scared you and JT would hate me,” Kate moans into your skin. She shifts to peer up at you, hesitant. “You don’t, right?”

“I don’t think I’m even capable of hating you, Katie-Kat, let alone for something as silly as banging a hot blonde,” you giggle, and she’s quick to join you. Lowering your voice, “Especially the hottest of hot blondes.”

“I’m so telling JT you said that,” she teases, pulling away.

You shrug and take your first sip. “Go ahead. He’ll agree.”

“And this is why you’re my favorite couple,” she says, bumping her hip against yours. “The worst part is Tyson didn’t even care about that either! At the post-game, when he saw my lipstick smeared all over Gabe’s neck, he high-fived him. Tyson fucking high-fived him for screwing me. His ex-girlfriend! How supremely demented is that?”

“I wish I had an explanation for you, but I don’t. I’m starting to think I didn’t know him as well as I thought I did.”

Kate takes hold of your unoccupied hand and squeezes it three times.

“I’m guessing things haven’t gotten any better?”

You shake your head, eyes downcast like there’s something super interesting between the floorboards. “I know he’s busy, and we’re busy, but he’s acting like our friendship meant nothing.”

“Not to start a therapy session in the middle of a rager, but did you... did you ever actually talk about That Night? I know you said JT whispered, but how positive are you that Josty didn't hear him?"

A few months after That Night, your guilt was on the brink of hemorrhaging. It was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped; you broke down in the middle of Talladega Nights. Fucking Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby. All fat tears and snotty, incoherent spiraling, your chest heaved as JT rubbed your back. He was quiet, more concerned than confused, until you calmed down enough to explain what’d been weighing on your conscience.

Then, your boyfriend looked clueless—because he was. JT didn’t remember his heat-of-the-moment pseudo-promise to taint Josty’s image of you.

After a scene or two, you broached the subject you’d both been avoiding since getting together. You wanted to apologize, and not that you needed JT’s permission, but you felt it wasn’t entirely your amends to make. He agreed but was adamantly opposed to operating on assumption alone. If Tyson was truly upset by the pillow talk he overheard, JT reasoned, he was old enough to be frank about it.

You found yourself agreeing, but also not? On the one hand, you could see this being an instance of your anxious mind making a mountain out of a molehill, finding fault where there’s none. But you knew Tyson, and you knew how sensitive he could be.

Something shifted that night. You’d known then, too, even in the hazy afterglow. His despondency wasn’t subtle, and it wasn’t uncommon for his dejected expression—his forced smile dipped in feigned nonchalance—to visit you in therapy sessions or in your nightmares.

But every time you typed and re-typed one remorseful novel after another, every time your gun-shy thumb hovered over his contact, every time you nearly drove out to your alma mater to track him down… You couldn’t get yourself to see it through.

At first, it was the nerves, the fear of hearing his pain and seeing his anger. Then, it was your own temper, stoked by indignation, that rose with every sign of withdrawal. Now, it’s just plain, garden-variety sadness.

It was—is disappointing how cleanly he severed ties. There one day and gone the next, no blow-out fight or melancholic hear-to-heart. Tyson was there; he was within reach, but at the same time, not at all. The casual dismissal is worse than outright rejection; the door ajar but wholly uninviting.

"In the moment, I was certain he didn’t. Now? Fuck, the percentage drops every time I replay it in my head,” you murmur, remorse bogging down your confession. "I know you made a point not to bring it up when you were together, but did he ever, I don’t know, say anything?"

Kate shakes her head. "No, sorry. But it's not like we actually did much talking anyway."

You snort despite your woes.

“Alright, that’s enough doom and gloom for one night. How’s my nephew?” Kate asks, bright smile chasing the blues away with all its might.

It’s a distraction and a good one, too. She listens intently as you prattle on about the bi-weekly training sessions you’re starting next month to help with the leash pulling and the ridiculous pet parents you’ve met at the dog park near your apartment. She inquires about the fluffy lamb she brought over the last time she stayed with you—it lasted all of a day in his over-excited grip—then gushes over another variation she saw last week while getting litter for Salem, her diabolical tuxedo cat.

By the time Kate has your phone in her hand, swiping through the designated album and asking more questions than each picture really warranted, you’re feeling a bit better.

Noticing the clock, you stumble through a totally-not-suspicious excuse to venture upstairs—alone. Kate shoots you a knowing look but doesn’t give you a hard time. To be honest, she’s just glad you came tonight. Instead of a witty jab or half-hearted guilt trip, she slips a gold foil square into your unsuspecting palm and sends you on your way with a supportive swat to the rear.

Access to the second floor during parties is typically mediated by two to three gatekeepers, depending on the scale and projected rowdiness of each gathering. Three’s the magic number tonight: two up-and-coming juniors and an outgoing senior. They grant you passage with little more than a nod of acknowledgment.

“What? No riddle this time?” you tease over your shoulder.

The senior, an engineering major with a penchant for brain teasers, answers with a hoot. Cale Makar shakes his head, both amused and flattered you remembered his signature move. His puppy crush on you is an open secret. “I was given strict instructions to ‘keep the shenanigans’ to a minimum with you, Your Majesty.”

“JT?” you venture a guess, hand paused on the paint-chipped banister. He’s the only one who still sprinkles in the silly nickname these days.

“Landy, actually.”

Well, close enough.

You shouldn’t be surprised. It wouldn’t be the first time the former chapter president enlisted Cale, his little, to assist in your and JT’s more salacious antics.

As soon as Gabe had the defenseman under his wing, he was putting him to work. Not that the younger blonde particularly minded, as his affinity for creative, slightly devious schemes rivaled that of Kate’s. It was Cale, you later found out, who ran interference during Semi Formal… while you were defiled on the balcony.

“Still doing his bidding, I see.”

He counters with that lopsided “Get Out of Jail Free” grin. “What can I say? The man puts up a mean bribe.”

As if cued, Cale’s companions, who you now recognize as Alex Newhook and Bowen Byram, step into view. In Alex’s raised grip is a case of Labatt Blue, and in each of Bowen’s, a bottle of bottom-shelf cabernet. You doubt the trio would notice or mind the subpar quality, though. Between their happy heads, Cale fists a bottle of champagne you know he’ll misplace before he can polish it off.

“Jesus, how drunk is he?” you tease, the follow-up to an exaggerated gasp.

Sure, the quality’s shit, but their haul is far more valuable than your appraisal of their job; it’s a frat house, not Buckingham Palace.

“Not drunk enough to not see you here with us.” Cale’s voice tapers off, his pale eyes tracking someone stalking down the hall before nervously flicking up to the ceiling, “…and not up there with JTC.”

JTC — Talk about a blast from the past.

An anticipatory tingling erupts between your inner thighs just knowing he’s up there right now waiting for you. This is the part of your “homecoming” that excited you most and had been since the moment your boyfriend pinned the invite from the alumni association onto the fridge.

As blissfully domestic as your life together has become, it lacks the spontaneity your college life had been brimming with. Your sex life could never be categorized as mundane or clinical, but you’re finding it difficult to replicate the adrenaline rush stealing secret moments inherently provided.

Sometimes, in your more (admittedly) desperate moments, you’ve caught your fingers moving beneath the sheets to mindlessly chase the thrill of those fleeting intimacies, despite how awful the constant wondering and wallowing felt then or, maybe because of it, pain and pleasure are uniquely human indulgences sought in equal measure. When intertwined, they’ve been known to satiate masochistic cravings the way a sad movie or a sprawling, high-speed rollercoaster might.

However, this time, your risk-spurned euphoria will be at your own hand. The newfound agency—the ability to choose when, how, or if any risk is involved—has you darting up the stairs with a fire under your soles.

Before you round the corner and disappear down the hall, you make sure to call out, “Thank you for your service!” accompanied by a two-finger mock salute. You don’t stick around to catch their responses, though.

As you make your way down the dim corridor, you run smack into a very giggly Sarah Jones, just shy of your destination. Eyes distant and wide, she attempts to apologize for something—Something about sabotaging the Big-Little pairings your senior spring?—but it’s more bubbles than actual words. You nod along, still not quite sure what you’re accepting an apology for but too antsy to forge ahead to play detective. Your purposeful strides went unnoticed in her cloud of intoxication and nostalgia, but Erik Johnson, who’d been JT’s vice president, mercifully ushers his inebriated fiancé out of your path by the shoulders.

You offer him a faint smile of gratitude as they head in the opposite direction.

Over the music, you faintly hear Sarah begin chattering on about something unrelated, your reunion long forgotten already. You can’t help but chuckle a little on behalf of your younger self, who would’ve gawked at snobbish Sarah Jones drunk and voluntarily slumming it in a ramshackle house on Greek Row. And sporting a rock from a Degenerate on Ice (her nickname for your brother fraternity, not yours), too? That would’ve been the icing. But, the older, more mature, once-weekly-therapy iteration of yourself is happy she’s happy.

Thoroughly amused but happy nevertheless.

As you reach for the tarnished doorknob of the president’s suite, the rickety door flings open to reveal your boyfriend, all flushed cheeks and frenzied eyes.

JT pulls you inside, lips easily taking possession of yours, the heel of his lived-in/loved-on sneaker nudging the door shut. The hinges groan in protest to the rough treatment. Still fussy as ever. This house is a goddamn time capsule, you muse. Neither of you has the patience for benevolence. If it jams, it jams. That’s a future-self problem. Diligence now would only slow you down.

And would a prolonged stay on memory lane really be all that bad?

Your boyfriend cages you so close that when he manages more than panted praise between hot-and-heavy touches, the words barely fit in the gap between your mouths. “I was beginning to think you stood me up, sweetheart.”

The light-hearted accusation is semi-whispered, somewhat hoarse, in the way his voice always sounded when he came home from a long shift at the hospital downtown or post-game at the height of his collegiate career. JT isn’t a hard person to read—downright wolfish when he’s homing in on a target—but the low, raspy tone makes his intent glaring.

Your body thrums with anticipation.

“Never,” you croon back. A breathy moan sweetens your voice, courtesy of the calloused hand inching up the back of your bare thigh, bypassing the hem of your skirt with no effort or resistance. Arms looping around his neck, you make an inquiry: “Is there a reason we’re in your old bedroom instead of, I don’t know, the king-sized bed in the honeymoon suite you insisted we spring for?”

Tufts of faint copper tickle your cheek. Your boyfriend lands a kiss on your crowd-warmed forearm. Then, much to your displeasure, he steps out of the tight embrace.

“Y’know, I remembered something earlier when I was downstairs,” JT supplies in an apparent non-answer.

He guides you, as understanding rises in your mental periphery, through the barely-lit space toward the Jack-and-Jill bathroom between this room and the next. Then, he flicks on the secondary light, the dimmer of the two, before tugging you over yet another threshold. His fingers twitch at his sides, lascivious.

You stare back at him expectantly, vision tunneling as you wait, wait, wait.

The latch might as well have been a starting pistol; the subtle click ringing in your eardrums like the sonic crack of a live round; his breath a plume of smoke from a charged muzzle well beyond its flash point. Pent-up, needy tension burns hot and burns brighter. Residue from the night prior aflame; you, a moth seduced.

JT drives forward. Stalking, like a cat on a bird, until he’s pinned you to the door. His dash was easy, made short and hasty by the starting block eagerness in your dilated eyes.

Mouth descending on your sensitive neck, hips grinding his want into your squirming form, harsh belt buckle nudging just right with each sharp rut.

“There’s still one thing left on my college bucket list.”

He sinks the candor in with his incisors. Not hard enough to break the skin, but that was never his intention. The sting is a reminder. Of your shared past, of his unwavering desire—of who is in charge.

Message received. Loud and clear.

JT leans away to admire his handiwork. One big hand poised at your jaw, and the other braced beside your head, keeping your shyness from blocking the perfect view; you’ve never been able to hide from him and never will.

His curious thumb deviates from the original objective to caress the skin, now splotched violet and angry. Softly, at first, like he’s committing the damage to memory. Then, emboldened by a sudden piercing hiss forcing itself from your throat, JT pushes down on the tender spot. The cruel, unexpected pressure pulls pitiful bleating cries from your undulating chest.

This is no longer an expedition to gather intel; it’s a primal instinct.

For a few moments, he just holds you like this. A cloistered existence made worthwhile by him occasionally digging deeper into the column of your throat, the pressure taking on a raptorial quality. Your boyfriend wears his herald grin at a rakish angle. It unfurls with refined delicacy, an effective diversion for his next endeavor. Breathe like a precision instrument; the sharp phantom-edge fans across the sucked-raw skin with unhurried ease.

There isn’t enough alcohol in your system to dull the twinge — and you’re glad for it. It’d be a crime to dilute a burn this good, this all-consuming. You crumble between him and the door, your world only this big. His name tumbles out with a pulled-candy moan, completely devoid of dignity.

JT’s chest rumbles beneath your clammy palms. “You gonna be a good girl and help me tie up loose ends?”

His strawberry-blonde crown dips to nuzzle your cheek. Hot tongue tracing an experimental line, JT groaning as it does. The muscle trawls for tears you didn’t realize you shed, humming through the pursuit. The low-pitched moan sends a chill straight down your spine right to your toes.

The hand gripping your jaw lowers so his fingers are able to coil themselves around somewhere more advantageous — your neck. Your eyelids flutter, woozy. His firm squeeze, just enough to make everything spin and keep you still, has become blissfully familiar over time, but your breath still hitches like it’s the first.

“Hm, sweetheart? Don’t be rude. I asked you a question.”

Your lips part, a barbed retort to his condescension on your tongue, but all you can push out is the strangled yelp of a wounded animal.

The hand by your temple no longer rests against the door. In the fog, it snuck up under your skirt; JT never meant to get an answer out of you; he just likes to watch you squirm. Likes to have something to reprimand you for.

His nimble fingers dance over the thin, sodden material pulled taut over your heat. Less touching, more hovering. Small, lazy movements that betray how well he can play your body. They float above the tingling bundle of nerves, further movement pending, contingent upon your obedience.

“P-please,” comes your pouted whimper.

“Focus for me, pretty baby. Tell me what I want to hear. Come on, let me make things easy for you. I can feel how badly you want to — and you aren’t in a position to be difficult, are you?”

You give in, and though the words you babble are largely unintelligible, JT’s ultimately satisfied.

“Such a good listener I’ve got myself. But you’re always to eager to please, aren’t you? You might throw stones from behind that tough girl act, but it’s just that: an act. I have a puddle in my hand to prove it.”

His frankness sears your face.

You’ve acquired a tolerance for his raunchy silver tongue through months of close proximity, but the mechanism is shoddy at best. Stalls and misfires galore. Against all odds (said “odds” being his fingertips toying with the edges of fabric between your thighs), you summon up a tawdry retort from the growing arsenal. “Don’t l-let it go to waste, Compher.”

It's not your best work, but much better than the slurred gurgle that preceded it.

He loves how you manage to be any sort of cheeky with him, even with your head swimming, stuttering and all.

“I don’t think it matters, sweetheart. I know there’s no shortage. Plenty more where it came from.”

With your knee, you nudge his hard-on and supply some honey-tongued snark of your own. “Is that your ego, or are you just excited to see me?”

Your boyfriend chokes out short-lived mirth. Then, with an accompanying smile, his tongue presses to the inside of his cheek. Amused, but by the sting of the remark’s undeniable truth, not your cleverness. The protrusion moves just below his bottom lip as he swipes the muscle over his teeth, a half-second sardonic gesture. It calls attention to your impudence without dignifying it with a verbal reply.

His brow lifts to negate any confusion, feigned or otherwise. “Are you going to keep being a brat, or are you going to let me fuck you with my fingers?”

You gulp down your ready-mixed wisecracks.

“Nothing to say now?” JT taunts. “Funny how that works.”

Fuckin’ wisenheimer. His voice is so haughty you have to bite your lip to keep your foot out of your mouth, unwilling to jeopardize your impending pleasure for short-term gratification.

Your boyfriend’s smugness—and your subsequent annoyance—becomes irrelevant when your panties are roughly pushed to the side, and his thick finger slips past your taut entrance. Tip to knuckle in one succinct trust; your startled gasp drowns out the noise rising up through the floorboards.

Hips bucking forward—you just can’t help yourself—you're in search of some friction to marry with the blinding stretch. He’s made the tensile opening accommodate far more in length and thickness, but not like this. Rarely does he create space where there is barely any, having forgone tenderness. Slowly widening a gap with gentle pressure, not demanding room like it’s already his to occupy.

Your surprise drips down his hand.

The bliss—the relief, is palpable. Your head dips into the crook of his neck, and the gravity of the situation felt for the first time.

Before, you didn’t see any substance in a tipsy frat bathroom hook-up. The older you got, the more pointless it seemed, especially with an established, long-term partner. The novelty wasn’t lost on you, of course, but that’s all you’d written it off as.

Countless collegiate nights were spent imagining one like this one. A moment where your inescapable feelings for him would be matched outright. When the pressure of his stifled emotions would build too fast to keep them from boiling over, too mighty in stature. Suddenly overcome by unrequited feelings of his own, unable to uphold all the ridiculous unspoken platonic conventions with the same authority he commands now.

This is important. For your past and present selves. The significance of this overdone, soapy teen drama scenario cannot be overlooked because it underscores the progress you’ve made together. Years of dancing around one another, the unconventional catalyst and nontraditional timeline, every hushed conversation in the wee hours before responsibilities wake, the sleepless nights and the snooze-filled afternoons—this ostensibly clichéd moment is an amalgamation of it all.

One thought rises above the frenzied rest: Was this here all along?

Is this what was waiting on the other side of the aimless pining and the confusion and the hurt?

The journey might’ve been fucking hell, but the view from here is pretty damn heavenly.

Overwhelmed by your epiphany and his dexterous motions, you moan into his skin far louder than your pride would’ve otherwise allowed outside your shared apartment.

His arrogant laughter grates before it really registers. Venom secretes from your salivary glands when it does, but the melted retribution never makes it past your lips. His second finger robs it of the opportunity, and the third sends all thoughts out your ears. The light circles over your clit cloud your vision, nails digging into his jersey-clad back—I’m feeling nostalgic, he’d said. In more ways than one, apparently.

“S’good—wanted this for so long, Compher—k-kept wishing it was you that night, not Miles.”

JT seethes at the admission, curling his fingers until your knees buckle and you’re entirely reliant on him to keep you off the floor. Even as your mind slips further and further away, your hips manage to move in time with his hand. Meeting each stroke with equal hustle and vigor, a clear end goal on the horizon.

Then his thumb drops away, his hand coming to a halt, and he steps back.

Away.

Frustration pushes the amassed tears waiting in the wings down your cheeks. Emotion runs down your face; a heavy spill indeed.

“I don’t ever want to hear another man’s name outta your mouth when it’s my fingers buried in your pussy.” His jealousy is well-polished. Manicure-smooth, like he’s been maintaining its luster in preparation for this very occasion. "—'specially not the motherfucker that made sure I heard all your pretty sounds through the walls.”

You’d grin if you weren’t so miserable.

That’d been your intention. It wasn’t anything Miles had or did that made him different from the rest of the chapter (who all, at one point or another, tried their luck with JTC’s hot best friend), just simply when he decided to shoot his shot. The only reason you’d been out in the first place was because you reached your breaking point, no longer able to stomach what you felt for JT, and you made sure Miles knew this before you let him call an Uber.

Despite playing for the same team, the pair shared a touch-and-go rivalry. You never knew if the intensity would result in a sweeping victory or an in-house, all-out brawl. If they ever saw eye to eye, you’d of never known. Miles needed no convincing to push JT’s buttons.

There was some heavy petting, nothing more. The only time Miles saw you undress was to change into the pajamas he lent you before knocking out on his futon, leaving you to take the bed. But JT didn’t know that. If sitting in their chapter house’s kitchen at 5 o’clock the next morning didn’t raise suspicion, the non-Compher borrowed t-shirt and ruffled hair certainly did.

Back then, he refused to ask. Even though you could see how badly he wanted to pry. Miles didn’t have anything he worth sharing, so JT was left to fill in the blanks.

You’d tell him the truth later, but right now, you wanted to see what milking his assumptions could get you.

“Did you like what you heard?”

His jaw ticks. Your hips push against his with a knowing simper.

You lean forward, closing the space he forced, lips barely brushing his ear, “Did you get off on it? Fuck your hand picturing yourself in his place… wishing it was my pussy instead?”

You hear the thud before you feel your head against the door or his hand back around your throat, his fingers deep between your walls again. The everywhere-throb makes you laugh. Giggle, really.

He squeezes until you’re no longer capable of mockery. His pace hastens, leveling out only once your thighs have started shaking around his wrist, knees cutting off his circulation elbow-down. Somehow, he keeps going despite the icy tingle. His determination overrides physical discomfort, knowing how close you’re getting. Feeling it in the distinct fluttering around his digits, seeing it in your trembling, swollen bottom lip.

“You’re so full of shit.” His mouth twitches at your throaty moan. A defiant hint of levity circles his pupils; he never stays riled up for long when it’s you yanking his chain. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You kiss him then, messy and crude, love-drunk. He tastes like your chapstick and gin, with a biting citric aftertaste —Grapefruit, maybe?—and you suck it in like you haven’t had a drop of water in days. And, in turn, he drinks down every choked sob and nonsensical half-thought you babble, every drop shooting straight to his loins.

He drives into you with fervor, humming as his tongue slips against yours, iron bulge omnipresent. The hand around your neck loosens but never leaves its post, thumb stroking your pulse point. I know everything about you, his movements whisper. Over and over, in and out. He, just as much as you, gets lost in the repetition.

“Don’t want him, never wanted him. Jus’ you—Always you.” It comes out slurred, mushy like your head, like your heart.

JT’s cock isn’t immune to affirmation and twitches through his too-tight jeans. Groaning, “Go on, sweetheart. Scream my name. I want every single person in this house to know exactly who’s fucking you this good.”

You do just that, writhing on his hand, eventually burying your face into his warm neck when it gets to be too much. He continues fucking you, and you continue crying for him, the pathetic little whimpers muffled now by his body.

JT guides you through the rest of your orgasm, as he always does. He watches your face carefully on the comedown, searching for any sign of regret or discomfort. When he finds none, he cradles your shaking form against his solid chest, the hand that, only moments ago, tore you apart, soothing you back down to earth. Once you’ve settled, he walks you back and away from the door.

A startled yelp falls from your lips when you feel the chilly edge of the countertop. You pull away from your boyfriend, brows furrowing with confusion.

His hand taps the outside of your thigh. "Up."

You’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open, let alone stringing thoughts together, so the command is met with inaction. Impatient as ever, JT wordlessly hoists you where he wants you and sinks down to his knees, big hands cupping yours.

“What’re you doing?” Strained, barely above a whisper.

He stares up at you with dopey, lovestruck eyes. “Come on, Compher. You can gimmie another one, can’t you?”

You aren’t an idiot. Often sleep deprived beyond belief and, more often than not, fucked-out on JT’s… Well, anything—but definitely not an idiot. You knew exactly what that loaded gun of a pet name implied the moment he used it. It first slipped out during a frantic supply closet rendezvous midway through your company’s holiday party, then a few more times in the months after.

It hasn’t lost its sparkle. It does make you more and more impatient each time he flashes it, though.

Fuckin’ tease.

Your fingers burrow in his hair, tugging from the root until his eyelids flutter prettily. “As long as you let me return the favor after—need to taste you so bad.”

“Deal,” he mumbles into your skin a half-second later.

His hands push your already-short skirt up, bunching it atop your hips and out of the way. Your boyfriend takes the time to remove the fabric barrier this time, and you don’t miss the way he tries to slip them into his back pocket without you noticing. Likely because it’d normally be a tease-able offense.

But not tonight, not right now.

Instead, you let a shiver speak for itself. The risqué gesture reminds you of the pair he used as a pocket square when his parents took you two to a celebratory dinner following his white coat ceremony. The rumble of his chuckle tells you his mind went there, too.

JT leans in, big eyes never moving from yours, his warm exhale fanning over your swollen folds. The tooth-marked bruise forming on the side of your throat pricks in tandem response. The action, a repeat of your boyfriend’s earlier antics, naturally yields similar enough results. He catches on, inching forward to—

Something bangs against the door.

His face falls; your heart seizes.

“Occupied!” your boyfriend barks, hands paused but gripping you tightly. He looks like he’s on the verge of exploding.

A full, lilting sound barrels into the door—too-good-to-be-true laughter. His breathy timbre is an unsteady balance of cocksure and skittish; a preference for one side or the other is blurred by the wood in its way. “It’s me, dickhead.”

Then, the curtain is lifted. A pocket of silence ushers in a stillness that cracks like a bolt from the blue.

Shocked doesn’t even begin to cover how you feel right now. You most definitely suffered a concussion somewhere in all JT’s reprimanding; you’re hallucinating right now. That, or the singular seltzer in your system magically turned psychotropic after consumption.

Waiting in the threshold is Tyson Jost. A quarter-drunk fifth of Jack in one hand and that goofy, irrepressible smile plastered on his face. Almost frozen in time—good-humored, untouched. As if nothing’s happened, nothing’s changed. Suave, and standing there like he hasn’t ignored you for months on end, like your and JT’s absence in his life wasn’t felt the way the Tyson-sized void in yours was.

Idle and morose, his eyes are the only defectors to his blasé demeanor. Timid and downturned, akin to a kicked puppy, they beg you and your boyfriend to assuage his guilt. An olive branch, a white flag in the wind. Amid their vulnerability, they still manage to cut into you in a way that feels too intimate, too honest—too much.

The worst part of this charged maelstrom is knowing Tyson isn’t capable of being cruel on purpose, then or now. It's bittersweet.

Careless or callous, it hurts all the same. It’s difficult to sift through the muck and decide which feelings should guide your actions when there’s no easy place to lay blame.

A gnarly, muddy morass of emotion climbs out of your gut and fills your throat, threatening to make an appearance each time you dare to exhale. You’re nervous and confused, elated and optimistic, angry and reproachful. The burn of betrayal rushes up your neck and across the bridge of your nose, but all the words you’ve stockpiled for this rainy day stick to your tongue like tar. Dark, thick, and flammable—your silence is probably for the best.

Bronze eyes, somber beneath the fan of flaxen lashes, adopt a strange aloofness that doesn’t suit his face. Lacquered just so as to protect the gooey softness beneath, the finish does nothing to obstruct or disguise his desirous longing or a brand of blues you’ve never seen in him before.

The intensity of your braided gazes is sanguine at best, duplicitous at worst, but disorienting all the same.

Anxiously, you chew on time; you’re trying your best not to swallow minutes and hours in big gulps. Your attempts to savor their confounding guilty-pleasure flavor are as futile as hoping the animosity would dissipate on its own. Or wishing the distance was just a nightmare you were on the verge of waking up from.

JT’s pulse races against your skin. He’s just as affected, just better at hiding it.

“Took you long enough,” is what JT says in greeting from the floor, dry words flung over his shoulder to curb the growing tension. Blithesome and biting and far more hospitable than you imagined.

All you can do is blink, slack-jawed; there are pieces you’re missing.

JT chuckles at your expression. He pecks your inner thigh to regain your attention. “Fuck now, talk later. Sound good?”

His words crack any and all inhibitions. Like opening the door to a cage, his reassurance grants your mind and heart the permission to succumb to the wave of emotions—lust overtaking the pack with ease.

Eyes still stuck on the ghost in the doorway, you nod your head in agreement. It’s as if you’re afraid your voice might rupture the bubble.

“Figured you’d be a little parched, baby.” Tyson, voice becoming jocular as ever, wags the bottle as he shuts the door behind himself. His tone might be light-hearted, but his gaze is anything but. Starved is the only way you can think to aptly describe the shadow. “And we can’t have that, now can we?”

You barely register JT vacating the prime real estate to accommodate his best friend, and subconsciously, you scoot closer to the edge. You knew you missed him, but you underestimated how needy you’d become if he ever stood before you again.

Both men notice.

Grinning, Tyson takes hold of your jaw. His hand emits a small tremor of unease, hesitant where JT had been demanding. The accidental brush of his fingertips over your boyfriend’s trailed claim rattles free a melancholic whimper. Your eyes glaze over, watering as your neck cranes up at him. He gently tilts your face to the side to assess the damage. You can feel his eyes raking over the marred skin, a sensation akin to your boyfriend’s weaponized breath. Goosebumps rise in their wake.

In reference to the Neanderthal surveying you over his shoulder, Tyson sniggers. “Filthy bastard.”

Charming as ever.

“She deserved it.” JT’s nonchalant shrug is more dismissive than his verbal nod.

Wicked eyes twinkle. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

You pinch his side, offended. Nevertheless, you purr at the certitude dripping from his husky vibrato.

He yelps and bats your hand away. “Got you good, didn’t he?”

You nod.

The baby talk-adjacent voice is demeaning, but with your only shield burning a hole in your boyfriend’s back pocket, lying about the effect it's having would be pointless.

Propriety is becoming increasingly moot, as this conversation circling around you carves space for new possibilities.

“Poor thing,” Josty hums, his thumb coasting back and forth over your jaw. His breath is smokey-sweet, honeyed. “M'gonna make it all better. Open up, baby.”

It’s something straight out of an early aughts raunchy teen comedy, the way he holds your mouth open to pour whiskey straight down, doing so without the lip ever touching either one of yours. The thin stream drags slightly as it goes down, but you’d never know watching the pillowy spirit disappear into you. You’re too eager to impress them both to give in and react—to the burn in your throat or the circumstances of this affair. You guzzle the oaky vanilla-clove flavor, smiling dumbly at the toasted aftertaste, all too happy to take anything and everything you’re given.

Still, either by virtue of Tyson’s lingering tipsiness or your inattention, some of the amber liquid escapes over your bottom lip, dribbling over your chin and down in between your cleavage. There isn’t enough time to consider wiping it off; Josty’s mouth is sucking you clean before the bottle even hits the counter beside you.

“Would be a shame…” Tyson starts, briefly interrupting himself with a succession of wet, open-mouthed pecks he’s decided to spoil your décolletage with, “…to let it go to waste.”

JT’s begrudged scoff cuts through the trance. “Jesus, kid. Where’d you learn that? What the fuck have you been doing? Or should I be asking ‘who' you've been doing?"

Tyson flinches at the coarse overtone the questions carry. A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of reaction only you’re close enough to feel. He just laughs into your neck rather than humoring JT or feeding into whatever he’s implying.

You’re too woozy to toss in your two cents in favor of either side.

Cold countertop lapping up your wetness, the burning palm cupping your face to aid the pursuit of sugary lips, the memory of his tongue gliding over your sticky skin—your boyfriend a few paces away, watching. That’s more potent than any liquor, mixed or straight. It doesn’t take long for you to pull away, in a there-but-not state of mind, to slouch against Tyson’s chest. Head heavy, warmed and spinning.

Happy.

“Somethin’ special, aren’t you?” Tyson muses as he kneads the tender spot where your hairline meets your neck. You peck his forearm.

“As sweet as this reunion’s been, you came up here for a reason. Get to it; we don’t have all night. I imagine La Tornade will be wanting his bathroom back eventually.”

You whimper at the sharp edge of his voice, even though you weren’t the intended target.

JT’s dark drawl was laden with protective affection for you, his devotion hardened by a hue of discontent reminiscent of a paternal chide. An outsider looking in might not see beyond the mediator-in-shining-armor ruse, mistakenly pruning away JT’s thorny pain and rotted grief, but you know better. The situation and him. While genuine, his defense of your bruised feelings is a trojan horse for his own. He’s conveying his rage how he can: under the guise of selflessness.

Tyson gulps, eyes downcasted, then nods. He understands as well as you do. When he finally looks up, the shadow’s fallen over his face once more, cloud drooped low overhead.

“You’re scaring me, Josty.”

This makes him laugh, his mood brightening a tad. “If anyone should be scared, it’s me.”

In your periphery, you catch JT urging him to continue with a stiff glare.

“I-I’ve been such an ass. I—I just care so damn much. About you. About Compher, and our friendship. When you graduated, m-my whole world changed. Like someone gutted my life, scooped out all the good, comfortable stuff and left me with the shell. I felt like I lost my people. Like I was left behind. And then I had to watch you two get closer than ever—without me. It fucking sucked, and I didn’t cope well. Didn’t cope at all, really. Kate’ll tell you, she took the brunt of my tailspin.”

You can’t help but snort despite the thick emotion welling up behind your eyes. The boys smile, too. Things look up.

Tyson takes your hand in a tight squeeze; his pulse jumps into your palm. “But that’s no excuse for what I did—didn’t do. How I treated you. You were trying so hard, and all I did was punish you for it. For constantly reminding me you guys are there and not here. For moving on with your life like you’re supposed to.”

He claims JT’s old spot knelt between your parted knees. “And I’m sorry. So deeply sorry, baby. Please let me make it up to you—let me apologize properly.”

Tears of his own shine up at you from his flushed cheeks. Gently, you take his face in your hands, rubbing away the spilled emotion with the soft pads of your thumbs.

A silent pardon.

The walls throw back the echo of his low, audible content—of relief.

“Is this okay?” His voice is barely a whisper, dwindling to a hush as the question tapers off.

Too determined to quiet his audible fear of rejection—and to have his mouth on you as fast as humanly possible—to bother with words, you nod immediately.

“With how much she’s been dripping onto the counter since you walked in, what do you think?” JT interjects, mood vastly improved.

Your cheeks and neck heat just as he intended.

The younger forward chuckles, hands massaging up and down your sensitive thighs, gripping them as if holding himself back from lunging too soon.

A predator lurking in the brush, lying in wait.

“I wasn’t gonna say anything. Didn’t want to embarrass her.” He winks up at you, confidence rising to the surface once more. You have to fight to maintain eye contact; he’s that stupidly attractive. “ —was try t’be a gentleman.”

You’re a flurry of butterflies, a whimpering mess.

Tyson wants to tease your body; it’s in his nature. But he won’t. Namely, because he can’t. No matter how good some old-fashioned edging would eventually make you feel, he’s already on JT’s shit list as is.

Besides, he’s only been fiending for a taste since you introduced yourself to him. And there's no time like the present...

Your guttural scream—an appropriate, albeit mortifying reaction to his baby pink lips enveloping your swollen clit—pumps his chest full with pride. Tongue flat, he charts the length of your heat with a gentleness you hadn’t thought your collective excitement would allow for. His hands coast over your legs, syncing with his mouth, until he physically cannot wait any longer. One final pass, one so agonizingly slow your greedy hips thoughtlessly vie for more of anything, brings his wistful, fidgeting digits to rest at the apex of your thighs.

“Pause.”

JT’s clipped command is a bucket of ice water.

Your vocal annoyance is matched by Tyson’s, but you both know how delicate a game you’re playing.

With his thumb still lazily swirling to your clit, Tyson’s inquisitive head begins to turn around. Before he gets anywhere worthwhile, it’s swiftly spun back into place by your boyfriend’s firm hand.

You can’t even convey how hot you find JT’s fingers casually twisting in his friend’s curly mop—just the way you love; all you manage is a warbled, mostly airy cry. Your distressed state worsens watching the show unfold between your lax, parted knees: reluctant, fluttery lashes over neon cheeks; a rosy, glistening bottom lip sacrificed to cage mousy whimpers, his ragged breathing betraying all effort toward feigning indifference to JT’s self-assured manhandling.

Your boyfriend snickers at your expression, a fish lingering open-mouthed for a surface sip, an ill-attempt to supplement a natural mode gone inadequate. No matter how much oxygen your widened jaw draws in, it never feels sufficient. A bottomless pit, a balloon with a fatal puncture wound. Gone before your depleted brain could make use of it.

“Have to make sure he does it right, don’t I, sweetheart?” JT’s voice is smooth and low, charring by the second; he’s enjoying the view as much as you are.

Tyson rolls his tawny eyes. Half-hearted annoyance. “Controlling much?”

“I know what my woman needs.”

The look you share with your friend is unequivocally feral.

And the growl JT hurls back, a low-pitched rumble permeating the tight space with little effort on his part, is just plain mean.

His attitude could not be more arrogant. The cavalier persona makes you shiver, and Tyson’s breath hitch. Humming, your boyfriend tugs on his curls until the two’s eyes are locked. Inescapable. The brunette gasps as he tries desperately to hold his eyes open, waiting with bated breath.

JT licks his lips, triumphant. “Open her up for me, will ya?” Mischief catches in the light as quickly as it falls into your boyfriend’s lap. His grip tightens, and Tyson whimpers like a naughty puppy caught red-handed. “Don’t screw around, ‘kay? She needs all the help her tight pussy can get, and we don’t have all night.”

Panting, his nod is the only affirmative he can muster up. And the only one his limited range of motion will allow for. Smug and pleased enough, JT all but throws his friend into your fire, his nose bumping where you’re most sensitive.

You actually yelp.

Holding your torrid gaze, Tyson dips his marriage and middle into you. You groan out what you meant to be his name—But who knows? And who fucking cares?—unable to control yourself while he’s finally touching you like this. Finally back.

Tyson finger-fucks you at an even pace, steadily pushing you up the hill. His satisfaction is tangible when he pulls out and away, so very delighted by your wonton hiss of annoyance. Even more so when the volume hikes up in response to the slippery pads of his fingers circling your clit. Your lewd whines harmonize with your audible arousal as he works it back into your fragile skin, playing with your wetness, utterly fascinated.

“What d’ya think, baby? Think you’re wet enough to take another finger?” JT’s tone is as cocky as his stupid rhetorical question. He, however, made no move to conceal his growing impatience.

“Mhmm,” you murmur, head like a rubber ball hitting the pavement. Still, you remember your manners. “Please—c-can I? Can I have another?”

His smile is pure adoration, dreamlike.

JT’s reverent eyes stay with you, but his words pour down over the eager man on the floor as he coaxes you halfway to heaven. “You heard her, kid. Give the lady what she deserves.”

Kid—Tyson hates when people call him that, but he especially loathes JT's usage. There’s barely an age difference, but with the way everyone acts, it might as well be decades. It seems like no matter what he does to prove himself, he’s still the baby. Every additional candle is like an annual slap in the face, a mockery that won’t end.

He can feel anger and frustration curdling low in his stomach just thinking about all the attempts that fell flat, and he decides to put the grumbling to good use. The vibration is red-hot and deliberate against your responsive, slick center, irritation like lighter fluid.

He gives you more than just three fingers. He splays all three—wide. Even as they stroke your soft inner walls, Tyson keeps you stretched so as to leave no slack. Your boyfriend wants you open? Tyson will fucking tear you apart, happily. (Yes, spite is a factor.)

Highly sensitive and spread to the limit, you ascend far quicker than usual. Fisting a bushel of golden-brown curls, nails digging rapt half-moons, you guide his willing face to the necessary places to see yourself through. Every slight adjustment has your entire body jerking haphazardly as it struggles to process the rocketing shockwaves.

JT’s hand retreats—only slightly—to make way for yours, to give you more leverage to fuck yourself through it. Less than a foot away, your boyfriend’s chest heaves in time with yours, his eyes pits of lust you dive into with clumsy enthusiasm.

During one particular, delicious pass, the tip of Tyson’s tongue catches your strained entrance, and when you unexpectedly gush against his mouth in response, he begins lapping over and around your carnal connection.

“Holy shit — Ty, I-I’m — I’m — “

The denouement of your climax is nothing short of glorious, as rude of a sentence interruptor as it was. Half-mewls and purred praise rain down from your loosened lips, eyes screwed shut.

Tyson melts over the way you take control of your orgasm, so unabashed and authoritative. You go after what you want; he respects that majorly. And getting to feel and taste what makes you tick doesn’t hurt either.

Neither do you and your pretty, throbbing walls cutting off blood flow while your boyfriend tugs his hair from behind.

“Just like that, keep fucking her through it. Did so good—doin’ so good for us.”

JT’s praise sends the brunette’s unoccupied hand right to his bulge.

This is the best he’s felt in months.

There’s the mythical balance of bliss-to-tension to key up his senses, shooting white-hot tingles of want from his head to his feet and flaming between his ribs, affection for you. You forgive him, JT forgives him, and, most importantly, he forgives himself.

He feels buoyant with his face coated in your climax, so much so that it runs down from his chin to his neck, staining the collar of his beer-soaked tee; he hopes you might return his favor later.

Josty’s guilty hand is knocked away by a firm toe.

“Y’haven’t earned it, bud,” his mentor chides.

The delinquent appendage flops lamely at his side for a split second, then lifts beside his nose to join its partner at your slick core. As if remembering there’s work to be done, a goal to attain. Beneath this new asset, your achy, spent clit pulses, egging him on with every thump, thump, thump.

Tempting him to do something, to take it further…

He thinks about it. Fuck, does he think about it—you can see the tape winding in his eyes.

JT can read Tyson’s mind through his skull, apparently. “Don’t even think about it, kid. Her last one’s mine, but you’re more than welcome to watch from right here.” —Your boyfriend points to the remaining space between the sinks, knowing it’ll be close quarters for you both— “Just remember: I only said watch. This is groveling, not a treat.”

And Tyson does. Without question or complaint, he’s just fine sitting next to you, sitting pretty.

He’s always been the perfect teammate. Always willing to do whatever it takes, regardless of the role. The only difference is he no longer wants his anxiety to be the sole motivator behind said selflessness.

Finally ready to play fearless.

JT helps you down; Tyson hops up.

Immediately, your attention fractures. Split between messy brown curls and lust-blown pupils and your own disheveled appearance: smudged makeup, knotted hair, mauled neck, and spit-stained, bruised lips. Thank fuck you’re graduated and gone. Otherwise, you’d never live this down—Kate might treat you to a taste of would-be campus humiliation later if she’s feeling particularly charitable, though.

Your boyfriend’s grip is heavy on your hips. Happy to have you back. You feel one hand coast over your lower back and down to grope your ass as if trying to keep you in the palm of his hand. White-knuckle hold withstanding, JT presses his chest flush to your backside and uses his free hand to yank every remaining hindrance to your navel.

He wants you on display.

Your gasp is rivaled only by Tyson’s pitiful whimper and twitching, touch-happy fingers.

The ginger’s chuckle is molten and deep, mouth barely a breath from your ear, his eyes pinning Tyson still.

Your mind rewound back to when he made this proposition, wondering how the hell you got from there to here.

“Bend over, sweetheart. Arch that back nice and pretty so we can show Josty what a good girl he’s been missing out on—what a filthy thing you’ve turned into.”

As soon as you’ve done just that, your boyfriend drives home. It’s fast and dirty; primal. He knows there’s no need, but JT marks his territory anyway.

You watch Josty’s mouth part like he’s about to ask you something. Staring through his eyes as if ducking into his pesky daydreams and up-too-late musings, all specifics watery and indistinct.

Ultimately, you wind up disappointed by silence. But, with the slow return of your boyfriend’s bare cock between your soft inner walls, it dawns on you; JT had used a condom last time. Even made Tyson retrieve it for him. The depth of your relationship is sinking in; that’s what you’re now watching. He’s mulling over the information, caught somewhere between wanting to swallow his guilt one go and choking on his own assumptions.

JT follows your charged concern, performs a similar triage, and then gives you a concise nod through the fogged-up mirror.

I’ll handle it.

At that, your walls noticeably ease, and he shudders, groaning as even more of him sinks deeper to occupy the newfound space. He gets a few strokes out before Josty slots his body between your palms to lean in. Here, he does something that collapses the simple but effective status quo.

“Fuck, kid. K-Keep doing that.”

Keep rubbing your clit.

Keep playing with you.

Keep being an accessory to his pleasure. To yours.

Be present.

Be here.

“Such a fucking mess, baby. Don’t know how Compher gets anything done with you there, sweet and ripe for the taking.”

The two halves of Tyson’s demeanor are antithetical, and infuriatingly so, a saccharine smile split open by filth. It paints a sordid picture that must stand for itself, as you find it impossible to pluck out of thin air any coherent thoughts.

Be that as it may, your friend did not set out for a reply. At least not one other than the befuddled stuttering you’re doing.

A familiar palm shoots to your raw neck—tender, inside and out—lightning quick. You're yanked up before you can blink. JT mercilessly nips at the gaps in between his tight grip, hips pushed just as firm against the swell of your backside.

Still, he furthers their madcap banter. “I dunno either, Josty. And, believe me, the little vixen sure as hell doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I think she’s tryna milk me dry for good.”

If Tyson Jost were ever going to cream his pants—post-pubescence, it would be now.

Like, right fucking now.

The proclamation of your third orgasm is wondrous. Proud. Grateful. One of your hands flies back to catch the nape of JT’s neck to steady yourself as he continues pistoning in and out of you. Tyson's generous touch stays, too.

Your back arches this go around, head rolling against your boyfriend's shoulder before slipping back down towards the counter, free palm absorbing the impact of the abrupt sway. Too much, too much—it’s all too much for your tender muscles and soupy brain to handle. You surrender to the plethora of sensations, each more overwhelming than the last—half-collapsed back against into your boyfriend, half-crumbled forward into his best friend’s damp, tented lap.

“Not gonna last, sweetheart—y’feel too damn good, s’tight and warm, always strangling my cock—know you’re close, too. Gonna give me what you promised, Compher? Please, pretty girl—need to feel your perfect pussy squeezin’ me dry.”

It's refractory; your world goes from washed-out to vivid and back, over and over, as though impatiently flipping between channels.

You’re a tangle of sticky limbs and physical reverie, blanketed by a warm afterglow and cleared air. Body scaffolded by muscular forms on either side, your mind gives your body permission to slacken at last. JT’s arm winds around your midsection when it becomes clear the all-consuming exhaustion is giving way to the relaxation that eluded you for so many months. Tyson massages your arms, your hands still cemented to his knees. Your head drops to his shoulder, too heavy for your bruised neck.

For a long while, no one says a thing. Not intentionally or for fear of disturbing the peace; there’s simply no need. No words exist to shoulder that much weight, none able to capture precisely what emotions swirl between you. Silence says enough—silence says it all.

Banging cuts through your sex-drunk stupor. Again. The abrupt sounds function like metaphorical smelling salts, restoring consciousness and rousing decorum laid dormant. Your mutual, unadulterated bliss circles the drain in the absence of a psychological plug, ripped free, half-baked.

JT reluctantly leaves you empty and dripping, tucks himself away, and cracks open the door—only as wide as is necessary. Behind his imposing physique, you remain hunched over Tyson, waiting for your boyfriend to make the problem go away; you’re too tired to take any initiative.

Golden hair and familiar grey-blue eyes fill the gap, shining in your periphery. Barely a sliver, that’s how much of this your boyfriend’s willing to share with the world. You like that, and judging by his lopsided grin, so does Tyson.

“Paging Mrs. Compher!” Gabe hollers over JT’s head. “Clean up on aisle ‘Kate.’”

Just hearing her name puts you back in action. Damn you, maternal instincts.

You scramble to right twisted fabric and smeared makeup to a soundtrack of expletives. It’s pointless, though, because nothing settles how it should. No amount of smoothing, brushing, or tucking seems to help. Hazy vision and the legs of a newborn fawn don’t exactly lend themselves to effective primping.

And it’s not like you’ve got a hickey-remover magic wand stashed in your purse, either.

Accept your fate, you acquiesce with a sigh.

Tyson does a piss-poor job muffling his laughter, which lands him a crisp swat to the chest.

As you stumble over, you catch the end of your boyfriend’s irritation. “—and you’re sure there isn’t anyone else to hold her hair back? Why can’t you do it?”

The gears in Gabe’s skull clank so loud you can hear them over the audible chaos seeping into your haven—he’s intoxicated, not stupid.

“CupKate wants her mommy.” The blonde winks at you over JT’s shoulder. His tongue gives a knowing click of approval at Tyson’s equally disheveled state. “And what do you care, Compher? Smells like you three already made your express trip to Pound-town, USA. How was it? I hear the weather’s hot and steamy this time of year.”

“Real mature, Landy, real mature,” JT scoffs.

The sound just revs him up. “Says the fucker who’s locked in a frat house bathroom with his girlfriend and his best friend. One of whom, might I add, looks like they got mauled by a hormonal freshman after a high school dance.”

“Can you two go measure your dicks, I don’t know, anywhere but in the way? I have a child to tend to.”

You almost have to laugh. At the situation and at the words coming out of your mouth. At Kate, sick to her stomach like a kid who ate too many sweets on a holiday.

Years have passed, but you’re all still the same.

“Me-yeoh!” Gabe sing-songs while miming what you assume are claws scratching at nothing.

Again, his drink is the sole casualty of his jubilation. A golden wave sloshes over the rim and onto the floor. The spray makes JT’s jaw tick.

The former winger offers a sheepish grin in repentance. “Whoops?”

Your boyfriend steals a glance to check that you’re decent, then side-steps out of your way with an exasperated sigh. His dilated gaze flits over your ruffled appearance, shamelessly drinking in the state of your throat but tripping over the questions dancing in your eyes.

He juts his head in Landy’s direction with a sardonic eye-roll. “Go on. Save your damsel, Mother Hen. I’ll fill you in on in the Uber back to the hotel.”

“Meet you out front?” You ask, and he nods.

You dart back to Tyson, plant a chaste peck on his flushed cheek, and then repeat the gesture with JT and his peeved lips. It’s faint, but they instantly soften for you.

Before they know it, you’re slipping out the door. Gabe gets an affectionate pat on the shoulder as you squeeze by him before you disappear in the direction of the Girls Only bathroom; no significant differences, only marginally cleaner and occasionally stocked with helpful accouterment—chivalry isn’t dead!

Lingering in the wake of your departure, Gabe sways like an inflatable man on the curb of a car dealership. A smirk twists his lips. “Nicely done, boys. Nicely done. Can’t say I thought we’d see the day—or that either of you had it in ya—but I feel like a proud father.” He wipes a phantom tear, the final straw. “Makes you wish you listened to Daddy Landy sooner, huh? Think of all the lost ti—”

JT slams the door in his face. Through the wood, Gabe cackles.

The two men slip back into sync as they wordlessly scrape themselves back together with the time and privacy you were not afforded.

As JT yanks his jeans back into place, his belt clanking around like a bell’s hourly chime, a black velvet box tumbles to the floor, and Tyson’s stomach along with it.

The air shouldn’t, but it turns on a dime. Their progress is seemingly more fragile than expected.

“If—uh, wow.” A crunchy, anxious bark of a laugh cuts his thought in half.

JT doesn’t interrupt; he holds space for the blossoming discomfort.

Tyson rubs the tense knots along the back of his neck as his eyes drill into the floor. “If I’d known this would be our swan song, I would’ve tried to enjoy it more. I don’t know—savored it, I guess?”

“This,” JT says, scooping up the dud he hopes isn’t hanging fire. “— is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier.”

Before they got into it in the garage, before they’d been forcibly separated by Erik and Nate. Before they, punch-drunk and drunk-drunk, teetered between tears and anger in the shadowy, too-quiet backyard.

They spun in circles until they had nowhere to move but on. To make amends, to stumble through chary half-apologies that mean more than they say.

JT’s alleviation was short-lived; his calm trepidation squashed before it could fly. Tyson now understands why.

Tyson balks. “Me?”

Your boyfriend sighs through his nose, pinching the bridge. He’s bidding time. Digging for the right words but knowing there are none.

“I love her—and I know you do, too. I’m not upset; she makes it hard not to fall for her.”

Tyson’s head hangs lower, chagrined.

JT continues, “I’m going to ask her to marry me, but I didn’t want to do it without talking to you. Without making sure you’d be okay. Eventually. The last thing I wanted was for you to be blindsided or to feel even more left out.”

Tyson can’t help but snort at the sheer absurdity. “Left out… God, how pathetic am I? Getting all butt-hurt over a relationship that isn’t even mine.”

“Pathetic was going AWOL.”

Josty winces. He doesn’t argue because he has zero ground to stand on.

“But feeling something? Far from it.”

“I didn't—don’t want to take her from you. You have to know that, Compher.” The hurt’s been hammered from his voice. Left behind is softened sincerity.

JT’s smile is just as downy. “I do, and you’d be wasting time by trying.”

Josty chokes on an unforeseen bubble of laughter.

You love JT Compher so openly and ardently it might as well be a neon sign plastered to your forehead. He’s always been it for you. There’s never been any competition, Tyson Jost included.

“Thank god we got this ironed out before the wedding,” the older forward chuckles as he leans back against the counter.

They’re side-by-side, as they should be.

“Why’s that?”

JT digs into his other pocket and pushes something into the palm of his best friend, whose cheeks flame tout de suite in response. With a bump of his shoulder, your boyfriend tacks on, “Something to remember tonight by.”

Tyson shoves the memento into his own pocket, then raises a quizzical brow.

Your boyfriend grins.

“The best man pining over the bride while giving the groom the cold shoulder would make for an awkward wedding, don’t you think?”

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Note

Wait you have Lilia listed as one of the interact-able family members. Do you intend to have Lilia show up as Silver’s father in disguise like wearing a mustache or perhaps being in a different form? I’ve seen people say something about a “true form”, but so far in-game (english server and im stuck at the sectors of book 6) I haven’t seen anything that suggests Lilia has altered his form to blend in? May I ask how you plan to do Silver’s father requests?

[Referencing this blog event!]

I believe "true form” Lilia is a popular fandom headcanon. It’s not explicitly said that he has a different form, it’s something fans have speculated about due to various lines dropped by Diasomnia (ie Malleus says in one of his chats that Lilia is in a history book yet no one recognizes him but Malleus, Sebek and Silver imply during one of the Halloween events that back in the Briar Valley Lilia was most terrifying for the holiday, etc). Some fans also think that Lilia has purposefully changed his appearance to “fit in” better as a high school student while at NRC, and/or due to a plot point brought up in episode 7 (no spoilers though).

Rather than outright say how I'm going to present Lilia for NRC Family Day, I think it'd be more fun to explain via creative writing ^^ so enjoy the pre-Family Day preparations in Diasomnia~

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

Silver leaned against the door frame, his sight set on the cluttered bedroom of his vice dorm leader. Tonight, it was even messier than usual, with outfits, accessories, and bottles of nail polish strewn on the desk and floor. Instruments and antiques were knocked over, drawers and chests open and their contents splayed out. It looked as though a storm had torn through the area--but no, this was the calm before the storm.

Lilia practically had the entire upper half of his body shoved deep into the abyss that was his closet, fishing around with his hands to retrieve more lost treasures from within. He popped out with two hangers, one bearing a sharp suit and the other, a neon graphic T-shirt.

"What do you think, Silver? Do you prefer the formal look, or do you think casual wear will do?" Lilia's deep ruby eyes were absolutely effervescent, gleaming like starlight. "Or perhaps I could dust off the old battle armor for this occasion!”

Silver gathered his courage and started. "Father—”

“No, you’re right. It may be too much cuteness for their poor little hearts to take!” He set down both sets of clothing on his bed and paused. “Do you think security will at least let me bring in my cleaver? It could make for a good icebreaker with the other parents."

“I don’t think so. But more importantly, father—”

“Ah, how disappointing. There’s no help for it, I suppose.

"I know!” Lilia suddenly brought a fist down into an open palm. His teeth peeked out from behind his growing smile. “I could bake a little something to pass out to the others in attendance.”

He bounced over to Silver, clasping his hands in his own. The aura radiating from Lilia was like that of a coiled spring, packed with energy waiting to be let loose. “I'm so excited for Family Day, aren't you? There’s still so much left to do.”

Silver’s voice came firm, the strike of a blade against a shield.

“Father.”

“… Oh dear.” Lilia frowned, peering up into his son’s face. “Have I said something to upset you?”

Regret set in. Silver let the fierceness in his gaze fade. “No, not at all. I’m happy to see you so eager.”

“Then whatever is the matter?” Lilia playfully nudged him on the arm. “Come, you can confide in your old man.”

“I would like nothing more than for you to be at my side for Family Day. It’s just…” A hesitation. “It will be difficult for you to pass as my father without the other students also recognizing you as their classmate. That may put you in a compromising position—and I don't wish to trouble you for my own sake.

Before Lilia could respond, a thunderous shout cut in. A young man, broad-shouldered and hulking, muscled into the doorway.

"WHAT'S THIS NOW?!" Sebek bellowed. "I cannot believe you, Silver!! You have the gall to barr Lilia-sama from attending a school function?!"

"My, Sebek. How kind of you to join us," Lilia raised his brows in an exaggerated manner, "though I didn't take you for an eavesdropper."

The first year's expression fell. He sheepishly fumbled for the right words. "M-My sincerest apologies!! I was doing my usual round of evening patrols and happened to overhear... I-I could not help but cry out against such an injustice...!! I-It will not happen again, sir!!"

The ancient fae chuckled. "I kid. You're fine, Sebek. However, I believe that Silver is right to be concerned. It will make matters challenging to say the least if I have to play both the role of father and high school student.

"Even so, it is a guardian's job is to be there for his child. I shan't let another year pass where I sit on the sidelines twiddling my thumbs while Silver is left on his lonesome."

"Another year?" Sebek cast his fellow knight a curious look.

"You weren't enrolled at NRC yet, so you wouldn't know." Silver deadpanned, a sigh escaping him. "Father also insisted he would attend Family Day then. He attempted to sneak into the event while wearing a pair of gag glasses... and was promptly ejected from the premises. It was mistaken as an ill-mannered prank by staff and students alike."

"Why, the NERVE of them!! They should be honored that a decorated general and advisor to the queen would humble himself by attending their gathering!!"

"I don't think that was the issue."

"It won’t happen again. I must put together a cleverer disguise this time!" Lilia glanced at the items scattered around his room. "Hmm, maybe I should start by recoloring my hair to match Silver's. A trim may also be in order."

"Wh-What?! Grrr... What luck you have, Silver!! What I'd give to have a matching head of hair with Lilia-sama!!" Sebek clenched a fist to contain his frustration.

"Your family is also visiting Sage's Island for Family Day, aren't they?" Silver smiled softly, his tone reassuring. "You won't be left out of anything."

"Hnngh... That's exactly what I'm afraid of!!" Sebek cradled his head in his hands. "I'd be less inclined to protest were it only my mother and my grandfather in attendance, but I don't know how to act around that man!! Worse yet, when I think of that man making his presence known to the other humans...!!"

He shuddered, unable to complete his sentence.

Silver raised a brow. "... You mean your father?"

"STOP, DON'T SPEAK THE THOUGHT INTO EXISTENCE!!"

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s family.”

“WHO SAID I WAS EMBARRASSED?! I-I’M NOTHING OF THE SORT!! DON’T BE SO PRESUMPTUOUS, SILVER!!”

Lilia laughed, shaking his head. "Lighten up, boys! It'll be a fun time, you'll see. I'm looking forward to catching up with Baul and the others myself."

“Will you really be able to blend in so easily? You have a very distinctive appearance. It would be hard to change you into someone entirely new and then change you back before the next day.”

“Th-That’s right!!” Sebek quickly added relieved to change the topic. “Lilia-sama oozes charm from every pore in his body! It would take considerable effort to conceal his handsomeness!!”

“... I see. So that's what this is about."

A sudden chill descended upon the room. Even the green flames that lit up the space seemed to quiver and shrink in the oppressive cold.

"Malleus," Lilia said with ease.

"Lilia." Their liege nodded coolly as he slipped out of the darkness and into view. "Silver, Sebek. It seems I wasn't invited to this lively little discussion. Please, don't stop on my account. Continue."

The sarcasm of his words was tinged with the subtly bitter pang of jealousy. A half joke, and also a half truth.

The trio fell back and parted, granting space to him. Sebek looked positively mortified—the second time that night.

“Y-Young master!! We had no intention of leaving you out of… Th-This was completely impromptu!! I beg of you, please forgive this Sebek for his impudence!!!”

“Did we disturb your sleep, sir?” Silver asked. He was as steady and soft as a lullaby, a contrast to his partner.

Malleus raised a hand—a silent command to them to stand down, to be at ease. “I only sought to investigate the tumult coming from this area. Sound has a way of traveling in these halls, and it makes a fairy curious.”

“Don’t mind us, we’re all riled up for tomorrow. Scheming for it, you know.” Lilia beamed. “That reminds me! Maleficia herself will be in attendance this year. I made certain the message got to her. Can’t risk the invite getting lost in the mail again!

“It’s a once-in-a-blue-moon event—it’s not every day when the stars align and those stuffy advisors grant her leeway in her duties. You must be just as excited as we are.”

Malleus smiled with his eyes more than with his mouth. They shone with wonder and quiet reverence. “It will be a joy to host grandmother at Night Raven College.”

“It will be a most wonderful reunion!” Lilia agreed. “Oh, idea: what if I wore something dark and atmospheric in honor of the royal family? I know I have a spiked choker and boots lying somewhere around here…“

Malleus blinked. “Grandmother may appreciate that—but attire alone will not help you pass for Family Day to the others.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that.”

Beside Silver, Sebek stubbornly harrumphed. “Lilia-sama shouldn’t have to conform to the expectations of mere humans!!”

“There’s still time to sort out a solution,” Lilia pointed out cheerfully. “Come hell or high water, I want to be there for my family.”

“Yes, your resolve is crystal clear. It would be a shame if you could not attend.”

Malleus ran a hand along an open drawer. It was filled with knick-knacks, from beaded jewelry to talismans. Tucked between a sizable glass orb and a carving of a gingerbread man was a furry tuft. “Pray tell, what did you wear for entry last time?”

“It was a pair of those gag glasses! It had a big nose and these fluffy fake eyebrows and mustache. Why do you ask?”

Malleus hooked a finger on the furry tuft and lifted. With it came a bulbous blob of rubber attached to thick frames.

“This?”

Malleus produced thick frames from the drawer. They were every bit as ridiculous off of a face as it was on one. Strange—the glasses seemed to glow an eerie green, but when Silver rubbed his eyes and looked again, they were normal.

“Exactly those!!” Lilia reached for the spectacles with a droll laugh. “Learned the hard way that they aren’t much use for covert operations. Still, I’ll always have a soft spot for these.”

“Who is to say that it will stay that way forever?”

“Huh?”

The trio stared at their prince. Malleus answered them with a mysterious smile.

“Who is to say,” he said with a mischievous flash of teeth, “that you cannot become whomsoever you desire?”

“Malleus… You didn’t…” Lilia squinted at the glasses. “Did you cast an enchantment on these just now?”

“The glow,” Silver realized. “I didn’t just daydream it.”

“Then that was…!”

“I wove a temporary illusion spell and cloaking magic into them. So long as you wear those glasses, you will appear as if like a dream in the eyes of those who look upon you. Your face, your hair—they’re altered, the details are scrambled and made challenging to pin down. In other words, you will not be recognized as ‘Lilia Vanrouge’.”

“OOOH!!” Sebek glowed with awe. “The young master has bestowed a blessing to you, Lilia-sama!! What an honor!!”

“Congratulations, father. That’s great news.”

“Malleus…” Lilia stopped, and tried again. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, but are you sure it’s alright for you to hand me such a handy item?”

“It only lasts until the stroke of midnight tomorrow.” The warning was casual, yet not unkind. “Go to Family Day, Lilia. Enjoy yourself. Spend time with those you love most—”

Malleus was tackled halfway through his speech. The wind in him sailed out as small arms wrapped around him, then tugged Silver and Sebek close too.

“Silly thing, you’re one of them,” Lilia tutted. “All of you are. Where would I be without my family here in Diasomnia?”

#Diasomnia #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst scenarios #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #question #notes from the writing raven #Silver #Sebek Zigvolt #NRC Family Day #Yes I made a Lilo and Stitch reference #disney twisted wonderland

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alwaysvivid · 3 months

Text

𝐝 𝐮 𝐥 𝐜 𝐞 𝐭

sweet and soothing in all aspects especially in regards to a voice. delightfully pleasant.

PLOT chan is beyond sweet, he’s everything sora has ever wanted and more. she can feel herself falling for him but that was never part of the plan.

CHARACTERS lee sora ˒ bang chan & im changkyun

﹙ mentions kelsey @inter-stellar-jyp.⠀﹚

WORD COUNT 3.7k

GENRE angst ft some smut

PLAYLIST s o r a.

﹙ send in songs that remind you of sora.⠀﹚

a/n i haven’t written in literally 2+ years & it’s unedited so please PLEASE be nice to me. i’m proud to finally be writing again and trust there’s many more wips to come !

[ sept. ‘19 ]

sora needed a distraction and she needed it fast.

she hadn’t realised how far she had fallen until it was too late, until she found herself waking up in chans arms for the 9th consecutive morning. She had lived in chan’s dorm - and skin- for over a week , and yet she still wanted more. she could stay with him forever.

both vivid and stray kids were on vacation leaving chans dorm empty and sora available to keep him company. the vacant dorm allowed them to play house the full 2 weeks, ignoring the fact that they had barely even admitted having anything more than a sexual attraction to each other. within those walls they were soulmates who couldn’t be separated for even a second, she loved him and he loved her and they lived happily ever after.

they get to play pretend.

when it came to sora she had 1 golden rule that she made sure she never broke no matter what and that was don’t stay the night. waking up together was too intimate , that was how it started to get complicated. the domestic cuddles and sweet performing kisses always warped the boundaries of their relationship and sora did not have the energy for any of that. she just needed passion and attention then to be walked to the door and never spoken to until the next time she needed a warm body at night. she had become an expert in the game , and that was because she never broke her number 1 rule. but yet there she was day after day draped in one of chans oversized hoodies, hugging his back as he made her scrambled eggs just the way she liked them.

there werent words that could accurately explain how she felt about chan, the closest word she equated it to was obsessed, she was absolutely obsessed with every little detail about him. on the rare mornings that she woke up before him she found herself watching as the sun streamed through the miniscule gap between his curtains. she’d lie cramped into his bunk bed staring at him. she would watch the way his lashes fluttered ever so slightly against his soft pink cheeks. she should be embarrassed by how long she spent just looking at him, but to her own concern she did not care. she attempted to snuggle even closer to him as she connected every freckle on his face. his freckles were all faint and easily missed but sora noticed them early on. she would count every single one of his moles, they were only visible when she was this close to him. he had 7 scattered across his face. chan was a breath taking type of beauty, you don’t even realise you hadn’t taken a breath in 5 minutes until you’re passed out conveniently in his arms.

every time she’d sense him stirring beside her she’d act as if she had been asleep just like him, only to be ‘“woken up” by chans soft lips on her forehead and his rasp filled whisper of “good morning.”

every morning and every night she’d wait in anticipation for the gentle touches that always grew rougher , the sweet kisses that escalated until they were desperate and deep. she was obsessed with the way he’d look at her just before she came , like she was his absolute favourite thing to ever exist. her brain would fog as she begged for a kiss , his hands tightly gripping at the flesh of her thighs as he pulled her impossibly closer. He always whispered the prettiest words in that moment. sora sometimes felt like he kissed her like he actually was in love with her , like he was just as obsessed as she was

when people spoke about butterflies, sora never imagined them to be so overwhelming and nauseating. yet ,her heart never let her get up and leave thus stopping the weird stomach flutters. it all felt so real, she almost believed it too be real, almost. sora liked to believe she wasn’t delusional enough to think they actually were anything more than fuck buddies. but there she was lying awake almost every night hoping one day he’d roll over and say the words that scared her the most.

and that was delusional.

sora needed to feel grounded again, she had been floating for far too long she was losing herself. she had to get him off her mind and out of her system. she needed a distraction or maybe a reality check , whichever came first. bottom line was whatever she needed, she needed it immediately before her delusions lead to heartbreak and betrayal once again. which is all to explain how she found herself pressed against the door of a random club bathroom ,changkyun thrusting into her with the birthday dress he’d bought bunched at her waist.

the details of everything that lead to the current events hadnt yet registered in her brain. Somewhere between her tequila shots and martinis she found kelsey and asked for the tiny pill she knew she always had. honestly the details were lost in her brain but at least she wasn’t counting the moles on chan’s face.

“missed this. missed you.” changkyuns words came out choppy and muffled, his rambles almost incoherent due to his head being buried deep in her neck.his lips barely lifted from her skin as he spoke.but his words felt empty, he didn’t mean it and he didn’t bother trying to act like he did. at least chan felt genuine when he’d say the same thing , whether he actually was was a whole different story.

the bass boomed so loud that sora felt it against her back, the white wood doing very little to mute the music blasting on the other side nor was it any good muffling the obnoxious sound of skin slapping together. if anyone was within ear shot they knew exactly what was going on in the tiny-dirty- bathroom. it also didn’t help that changkyun decided to be particularly loud that day.

“you miss me too baby?” he lifted his head to make eye contact, his eyes dark and hooded. sora lifted a hand to brush the hairs sticking to his forehead to get a better look at him. he looked as good as she remembered. same sharp features she used to drool over, his stare just as hypnotizing as the last time, his dick filling her just the way it always did. there was a reason changkyun had sora under a spell for years, he was addictive.

sora nodded her head yes as her thumb dragged along his bottom lip pulling it down ever so slightly. changkyun had truthfully barely crossed her mind for the past 2 months but she agreed, hoping it would boost his ego and have him finish faster. changkyun chuckled as he nosed the strap of her dress until it fell off her shoulder, giving him just enough room to properly sink his teeth into her clavicle. “say it.” he demanded.

“missed you too.”

some twisted part of sora really did miss him. there really was something so familiar about the whole experience: the hollow feeling in her chest that she’d self medicate with alcohol and fickle relationships, the way every moment melted into each other as the bass of the speakers had her ears ringing, the way that changkyun looked at her and how their bodies moved together on the dance floor and the rushed kisses and movements against any surface they could find. even the emptiness of his words left some odd nostalgia in her.

she missed the way he would push her into the mattress till she felt like she disappeared, the shot of dopamine she’d get when he’d finally text her after disappearing for almost a month. changkyun kept her on her toes, had her wanting more every time. sora was never bored when it came to him, she never knew what to expect. the never ending excitement was also their downfall, the instability becoming all she knew.

sora wasn't stupid, she knew changkyun wasn’t good for her no matter how deeply in denial she was. she was aware it wasn't healthy to always leave his place feeling like a shell of herself, like it a piece of her was left behind . it left that ache in her chest that she grew accustomed to. but that was exactly what she needed, to be consumed by his meaningless touches, and let herself sink into the door. maybe then she’d wake up from the deluded dream she was living in with chan.

changkyun kissed up sora’s neck, pausing to bite into the flesh just under her jaw. chan usually sucked that spot. she couldn’t help but whimper ,slowly refocusing on the man in front of her. the tips of her long acrylic nails dug into his broad shoulders - chan was broader. she whimpered loudly as he started to suck on her neck harshly, definitely trying to leave a mark. he wanted everyone - chan - to know.

the words that changkyun whispered against the shell of soras ear didn’t register but she reacted by arching her back nonetheless. she used to fiend for moments where changkyun paid her this much attention but now all she could do was compare him. sora tried her hardest but she couldnt push away the sound of chans voice calling her pretty. she felt the ghost of his finger raking through her hair in the morning. she could feel him kissing her like he loved her. sora felt her eyes fill with tears as she forced them shut. trying to make the image of chan disappear. how did she let it get this far? why did she let anyone have this much of an effect on her. she hated it. she hated him and his stupid sweetness.

changkyun sped up at the sight of sora’s teary eyes , assuming it was his doing.

“feel that good baby ?”

sora didn’t reply just lulled her head back as the tears rolled down her cheeks taking her liner with it. it always smudged , it never lasted until the end of the evening.

she let out a small hum to appease him and it appeared to be exactly what he wanted.

“that’s right, better than that stupid boyfriend of yours?” he grumbled as he grabbed her jaw , his grip forcing her to face him. sora opened her eyes staring directly into his.

“i don’t have a boyfriend.”

her sentence came out short, her lack of breath abd already emotional state had her on edge. changkyun chuckled as his thumb pulled at her bottom lip jus as she had done earlier smudging her already messy lipstick. he pushed his thumb into her mouth slowly. “thought i lost you for a moment but you’re still mine. all mine.”

sora distracted him by sucking on his finger just as she’d always done. his eyes focused on her mouth as his thrusts sped up. she hated when changkyun said she was his. he’d go on and on about her being his but he was never hers. he made sure she knew that.

“i’ve never seen the point in exclusivity, no one keeps to it. someone always ends up lying to the other and cheating. just resentment and hatred everytime. why deal with all the rules and complications of relationships when you could just get what you want and leave.” the words once repeated to sora years ago rung loud in her ears as she tried willing away the tears.

changkyuns grip on her waist grew tighter as the strength that kept her up against the wall faltered slightly. “fuck, can i cum inside?”

“no.” she spoke quickly much to changkyuns surprise, she always let him cum inside.

sora tapped on his arm signaling for him to let her down. changkyuns face remained puzzled as he lowered her to her feet, the jelly state of her legs was the last thing on her mind. sora fell to her knees in the least elegant way possible, a bruise was sure to blossom in the morning. she tucked her hair behind her multi-pierced ear before opening her mouth slightly for changkyun to cum in. with a loud huff he tugged his fist up and down his shaft as he placed the salty tip on her tongue. his orgasm came in hot white spurts accompanied with changkyuns grunts. sora was thankful only a little bit got on her cheek, she really wasn’t in the mood for a full facial.

changkyun let out a soft sigh as he attempted to level his breathing. he watched as she crawled on the floor towards to roll of toilet paper, taking a bit and wiping at the sides of her mouth in an attempt to look presentable again. changkyun took note that she used to lick it up and open her mouth to prove she swallowed it all.

the tiny bathroom fell silent in a way that wasn't comfortable, it was agonizing. the sound of changkyuns zipper was all that could be heard in the small confines on the room. loud knocks filled the room as both their heads snon the door.

“just a minute.” sora yelled , surprised her voice wasn’t as horse as she thought it would be. she took a deep breath using one hand on the cool tiles of the wall and the other on the lid of the toilet for leverage to lift her up to her feet. despite being slightly unstable she managed to get up and look at herself in the grimey mirror.

sora looked at her reflection for far too long , she could feel changkyun staring at her in confusion. she couldn’t look away , the girl in front of her felt almost foreign. she hadn’t felt or looked like this in months and she didn’t like it yet she felt she deserved it. this is what girls like sora do. they don’t play house with sweet boys. they get get fucked in disgusting club bathrooms.

sora never felt like anything. she was just hollow and destructive. everything she touched felt like it was destined to fall apart.everytime anything felt good it would end leaving sora even more empty than she was before. a fun time until they get bored and move on to the next one. the constant rotation taking a piece of her until she had nothing left. the girl in the reflection looked hollow even with tears stains she looked devoid of emotion, devoid of a heart.

chan was good and kind and sora didn’t deserve all the good he had in him. she would ruin him just like she ruined everything else in her life. she didn’t want to ruin him but she couldn’t imagine leaving him. the come down was always more intense than the high and sora was feeling it. it was like withdrawals but from a person. she couldn’t breathe. fucking changkyun didn’t even work. she couldn’t escape him, her old ways weren’t working. there was no escaping anymore she was too deep in and her heart was doomed.

the knocks against the door were louder the second time pulling sora out of her haze. with a huff she swung the door open not even warning changkyun as she stood staring blankly, “oh my fucking god, here have the bathroom! fuck!” she pushed past the girl as they exchanged looks. sora could tell that she said something back but she didn’t care, she needed to get out of there. changkyun followed behind her as she walked off. fixing his hair as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder forcing her to stop in her tracks.

“we off to my place then?” sora kept walking as she felt his words like a weight on her chest. she couldn’t do it.

nothing. sora felt, heard, smelt and had nothing. the loud beating of her heart was the only thing reassuring her that she was, in fact, alive. she didn’t feel alive, she hadn’t for a long time.

taking deep breaths in through her nose sora tried to shut her brain up. she was spiraling she could feel it, but no matter what exercise she did that her new psychiatrist had taught her she couldn’t shut up her brain. her thoughts growing louder as her breathing became more labored.

“wait sora-“

before she even processed anything sora was walking. there were indistinct voices as she moved. it was as if they were screaming after her trying to get her to stop as she exited the club. she couldn’t tell who it was specifically,everything was blurred. she didn’t listen to them all she cared about was that she had to get out. the smoke filled room was suffocating her.

sora blinked slowly to adjust her eyes from the red neon lights to the dim street lamps along the road as she walked down it. she barely knew where she was going or what she was planning to do when she got there but she was moving and there was no stopping her. only after walking for some time did sora register that she didn’t have shoes on. they were definitely left in the bathroom but she didn’t care, at least she was out.

sora’s feet moved on their own accord,her mind still foggy. she couldn’t process where she was but it was familiar enough that even her overwhelmed and high mind was directing her somewhere.

her breath was still shaky and uneven as she stared at the same door she had walked out of just hours before. with whatever energy she had left she lifted her hand to hit her knuckles against the wood.

“sora?” the voice was soft yet strong. chan. she walked back to his dorm. she knew she hadn’t gone far when she left for the club. sora felt so embarrassed her stomach turned, why did she study the route from the club? she paid so much attention that even as fucked up as she was she still managed to somehow get herself back to the person she was running away from.

she didn’t reply, she couldn’t. his face was painted with concern yet he looked just as beautiful as she remembered. her beautiful boy. “come on let’s get you back inside where it’s warm and dry,” he spoke softly and slowly, not wanting to cause anymore damage than what was already done.

sora hadn’t even realized that it had been raining. her mind was too busy to notice that her body was soaking wet. she must’ve looked a mess , the tear stained look she had early barely compared to the state she was in now.

she tried to focus on his words and process what he was saying but the sound of her own heart beating in her ears drowned out anything and everything around her. the silence that filled the dorm was so loud sora thought she might scream. it felt like it was crushing her . why of all places was she there, with chan in his arms shaking. chan’s hands softly stroked her hair bringing her back to him. her breathing mimicked his as he attempted to help her as best as he could.

sora took a deep breath and allowed herself for the first time in months to feel at ease. she could feel him press his lips on her cheek like he always did when he tried to soothe her. it worked. she couldn’t understand why or how but chan never failed to make her feel at ease.

“you’re okay .” chan repeated in a whisper, continuously stroking her hair soothingly. sora forced herself to believe it even just for the night

in that moment chan didn’t care to ask where she had been or who she was with or where her shoes were or why she walked in the rain at 4am. he had to help her. he gently removed her makeup and changed her out of her soaked dress, his large sweatshirt engulfing her and surrounding her with his comforting scent again.

sora held him tightly that night, she pushed away the thoughts that she needed to leave, run away before the inevitable heartbreak. her heart was swelling and thumping the way she knew was dangerous,she was in love. and for the first time in years sora let herself feel everything. every nauseating butterfly, sickeningly soothing kiss to her face and headache inducing heartbeat; all of it. she wanted it all.

sora was in love and it was terrifying.

#╰ ❛❛ // 소라 ┊ strikingly bright !! . 「 tale as old as time ! 」#ficnetfairy #fictional idol community #i love my little messy lover girl. we love those trust + commitment issues #kpop idol oc #kpop idol au #kpop added member #bang chan #stray kids #bang chan skz

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beneathsilverstars · 2 months

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MY ENTIRE ISAT LIVEBLOG

COPY PASTED FROM TWITTER LET'S GO!!!

oh my god i love isabeau

the correct reaction to an incredibly mediocre pun:

when i talked to odile i said i was gonna make isabeau sleep on the floor but that is NOT true

i was about to say i love all the sparkly stars aesthetic but... the game is literally named after them.... i shoulda known

omg isabeau what were you about to confess 😳👉👈

rock paper scissors is being explained to me in such painstaking depth... but the dialogue is cute, so it's ok

wtf i looped back to the town specifically in order to ask the cook about the openphrase for the one door but there's no option to ask!!

it was the shopkeeper 🤦🏼

so curious about siffrin's touch thing... it makes sense other people might be more conscious of a subconscious reaction to touch than he is, but he's so avoidant of the train of thought, i feel like it must be something a bit less.. subtle...?

damn... tryna give mirabelle the fan mail for the second time.... yikes :( so sorry mira........ is that what happened to the island to the north...? something about it got so retconned that it makes people sick to focus on the exact change?

oh.. siffrin's major memory problems.....

this game is sooo good

siffrin seems upset in the observatory.. at first i thought they were just getting tired/grouchy, but the game sure is named after stars... maybe stars had to do with their past trauma..??

i'm starting to wonder if this isn't their first set of loops and the bone-deep burden of all that (along with the practicalities of your memories constantly not matching reality) is why they forget words and shit....

went and looked at the castle again this loop bc i felt bad that sif never gets to sit down...

king asked if sif remembers REMEMBERS WHAT??? i just knowww after i terribly lose this fight im gonna have to go back through the whole game unlocking new rooms that like unlock my memories or smth

"not when i still can't say it" ofc the king is from the northern island... sif is obviously from there too, and that's why he can't remember most of his past... so that's the thing they both don't remember?

defeated him but like. there's still so many locked doors. i bet like sif is gonna go to sleep and they wake up from the nap like WHAT DO YOU MEAN I'M STILL IN THE LOOP?? WE WON?? but they didn't win correctly yet, they didn't actually solve everything that needs solved...

head handmaiden ma'am 😳

is odile's research genealogy??

i thought the reference to "colors" being an esoteric/irrelevant topic was a one-off gag about the art style, but it's plot relevant?? fuck yeah

what if odile is trying to figure out the northern island..??

OHHHHHH

BWAHHH the bonnie quest 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

first time redoing the mira quest.... siffrin!!! be brave!!!!! not only is your new idea good, even if it was bad you could just say oops oh well and switch the script back next loop!!!!!

is siffrin gonna have to learn how to be brave and normal in order to break the loop jdhshdjf (normal here meaning "not a loop-brained convomaxxer")

i hope siffrin can just ask the baker's daughter directly for the book this time hdhdjfj i don't really think the whole goose chase is necessary for the emotional convo.....

oh thank god

ugh i can't wait till sif tells his friends about the loop. is that gonna be sif's quest

HANG OUT QUEST!! YES!!!

hm.. is loop the deity of the northern island..? if stars and astronomy are like their whole thing....

INTERRUPTED AGAIN!!!!!!! AGHHGH!!!!! i know isa can't actually confess till the very end bc it would suck having to go through more loops knowing he likes you but he hasn't actually told you / if you go through a loop post-confession surely that would change quite a bit of dialogue

but AHHHHHH!!!!

oh my god siffrin is going beast mode on the tutorial sadness?? i had to choose "attack" bc it seemed the most different and thus interesting but also omg... there goes the warm friendship glow 😭😭

but ofc that glow would die a horrible sudden death anyway the moment siffrin is confronted with the fact that he is back on that damn loop grind :(

poor thing 😭😭😭😭😭😭

INSTANT REPLAY??????????

the loop power is getting stronger.. u~u;;

I KNEW IT WOULD EVENTUALLY GET WEIRD THAT SIF'S SUCH A HIGH LEVEL... just a couple loops ago i was like damn when is everyone else gonna notice that sif has like multiple crafts that they didn't yesterday

also i noticed a loop or so ago that their battle portrait is frowning and.. i don't think it always was.....?

oh my god the memory of sadness is kinda fucked up but. so useful jdhshfj im tired of avoiding them in the hallway,,

ok but also how do my teammates not notice that they have new equipment, and sometimes a new craft..... in the case of like a hair bow that's easy to gloss over but how does isabeau not go "wtf i'm dealing paper damage?" ??

the problem w telling your friends you're in a time loop is it must be such a fucking relief. and then you loop again

aw, sif.. tell them about the universe...

lol how funny would it be if i died to the rock this time

oops... i'm doing a big check-everything run, but i absolutely didn't do all the village stuff bc i was too excited to help isa... oh well,

i did idly connect that the "weird sadnesses" smell like sugar same as the king's time magic which makes, but i finally just actually thought about it and realized they're also star shaped....

siffrin having this time loop power... is it anything at all like mirabelle's time-resistance power, blessed upon her by the high priestess? did siffrin escape from their fucked up time island, sent out with the power to eventually save it?

odile is sooo close to figuring it out... she just said "verRrRy interesting"

BWAHH new post-level-2 convos!! so cute!!!!! love bonnie's new siffrin-patting routine..... and odile has it SO figured out, when is she gonna say something!!!

siffrin was afraid that he smells like timecraft? bc of looping or bc of repressed reasons.... probably bc of looping,

time for siffy's daily bathroom stall breakdown!!

they even went in happy this time and still managed to psych themself all the way out hdgshsjf

GHOST SIF??? GHOST SIF ON THE WAY TO THE KEYKNIFE??????

BWAHHH ODILE RUFFLING SIF'S HAIR!!! I WAS WAITING AND WAITING FOR MORE PEOPLE TO PICK UP ON IT BEING OK TO TOUCH THEM!!!

"in this moment, you are loved" god it is going to be so hard waking up next loop 😭

HAIR BRUSHING!!! THIS IS SO PEAK

i'm worried that the king's "isn't this the best moment of your lives" rhetoric is going to slowly gain appeal as sif goes through more and more loops... like. they crafted the perfect loop with their found family. they *can't* change it any more, make it any better. ...

EHAT DO U MEAN "NVM" ISA!!!!!! oh my god i can't believe you won't confess until siffrin is like more emotionally centered and open and ready to handle that kind of thing... why r u sooo considerate -_- ur killin them isa

oh my god why is it even worse why is the end of the loop even worse this time oh my GOD sif is gonna be inconsolable I'M inconsolable not isabeau reaching out im sobbing on da couch

ngl i kinda hope this time siffrin is just defeated and doesn't banter about shit and everyone is worried as fuck. sorry sif i just think it would be interesting. that flash of him slaughtering the tutorial sadness was so sick. esp the unique auto-rewind. more of that shit

they did the first convo w mira fine.. nvm i guess.... if that never happens that's gonna be my first fanfiction

another ghost siffrin... after i looped to unlocked floor one to look for articles....... :o

not beau saying "normally i'd be worried about this, but sif doesn't seem worried at all!" when i'm about to touch the tear specifically in order to die...

did the king used to hang out in the observatory... did he write that word (the country's name?) on the papers, and wear out the spot on the globe....... he did find a new home here in vougarde such that he's decided that he can't lose this one too, at all, ever...

i got to loop 30 and i was surprised bc i figured i was at like 25 tops. and now im at 37? i don't think it's been 7 loops since then...???

i've started dreaming about the tick of a clock.. i'm kinda worried i've started wracking up too many loops... i did just zip back and forth across the house a half dozen times checking various items and dead ends....

AHH AUTO REWIND FROM KING ASKING WHERE SIF IS FROM???? followed by "you do not answer" which. implies that wasn't the case before the rewind.?? maybe more like "you do not think about it" l o l oh sif 😭😭😭

i was about to complain that it won't let me zone out of the dying-and-bonnie-running scene but um. different this time. thank you for not letting me zone out,

YEAH IT'S LOOP 40 NOW!! this is right after loop 37 (with a small auto-rewind between)

😭😭😭😭😭😭 isabeau pleeeeease:

hanging out with loop and - we saw the kings first attack?? but how would the rest of the party even get that far without sif?? they'd die to the first rock trap????

oh good sif noticed too. "who was the king attacking".... did a siffrin remnant help the party, has he looped so many times that he can be in multiple places at once???

was the king kmsing??? who tf would he be attackinggg

does the loop end when siffrin loses hope?? but no, then the very first time they defeat the boss they wouldn't have looped... but no, if the handmaiden is just talking shit unrelated to the looping then that coulda still made sif think the loop was fucked, which fucked the loop?

it's kinda heavy how many times you have to k your s in this game... esp when you don't actually have to but it's, like, more convenient than 5-30 extra minutes of running around

siffrin tripping so they don't seem so creepily overpowered is SO sad 😭

fsr it's sadder than going through the motions of a conversation, or tripping bc you tripped last time... it's a whole new lie to offset a whole new problem...

oh yeah my other loop theory was that it ends when siffrin gets too reminded of the northern island..? the memory of the future or whatever the fuck from the big attack idk

siffrin rewinded after his friends saw the ghost.... kinda matches my "when he loses hope" theory. when he feels alone? when he's utterly lost with no clue what to do next..? (lol sif restarting every loop just bc he doesn't have plans for what to do after winning)

NOOO I WAS SO EXCITED TO NOT HAVE TO GO GET THE KNIFEKEY EVERY TIME BUT I DO HAVE TO... BOOOOO...... where's the consistency, loop!!!

i can use a memory to equip it for the boss fight but idc as much about that.... i just wanted to be able to check out the dead end rooms more often instead of having to use the crest to get the knifekey every time....

memory of ghosts, no effect??

oh, the vision of the future happens on the first attack always.. not when the king kills you always...

having the knifekey for the fight kinda isn't worth it.. siffrin only has one measly paper attack anyway, so i usually have them on potions and items duty.... gotta keep mira brothed up so she can cast the super duper shield every single turn

"it's fine. she isn't real to you right now either" god siffrin is gonna be so fucked up when they get out. siffrin is gonna have "everyone else is an NPC" brain

finished doing all four quests together for the second time, and sif's commentary at the end is reeally hitting my "eventually sif will understand the king's pov of wanting to freeze one perfect moment forever instead of going forward to inevitably worse shit" theory :(

"you've noticed you're starting to forget whole loops" AHA...... i'm so curious tho what was sif doing in those skipped loops. ig presumably it'd be whatever they did in the next loop that they actually remember? sticking to the plan several times in a row till it sticks,

does loop remember the skipped loops??

hm. whenever the loop ends early Not due to death (the little auto-reverses) maybe sif just.. forgot everything after that moment? till the normal king attack moment ....? or whatever death they find?

i wonder if the headache of not being able to say/read/think about the northern island is caused by many tiny loops, sending you back to the moment before you said/read/thought it, happening however many times it takes for the rapid time travel to make you so sick you just don't

i teach kid's music classes, and sometimes i'll practice one or two dozen verse variations, then i get to actual class and when i actually do that song i can't remember which variations i've already done? and it gets worse with each class i teach from that lesson plan. so dw siffrin i get it,

ok but wtf is up with the head handmaiden. what's she got to do with this. she's obviously more involved than she seems, she knows Something about the end. and imo it's sus that she was able to bless mirabelle to be impervious to the curse, how's she able to do that.

assuming that the king used to live in the house (spending lots of time in the observatory), euphrasie would've gotten to know him... perhaps seen the beginnings of him getting fucked up powerful...? thought she could handle it on her own but she couldn't?

are the mini auto-loops a meta "reload from last save"? i think it's the same quick rewind sound as actually reloading... i don't do it super often bc why not just loop back and keep my silly little mistake in, but i've done it 2 or maybe 3 times....

this game does such a good job starting in medias res. level 45!! i'm past 70 now. i feel like there's a definite chance i'll hit 90 which means siffrin will have done as much fighting in these loops as they did with their friends through months of travel and adventure.

choosing all the emo answers to the loop convo about how using your dagger would be faster than finding a tear to kill you. sorry frin not my fault you are depressed as fuck

LOOP GOT POSSESSED IN ORDER TO ALLOW ME TO K MY S MANUALLY??????? ??????? damn i had something actually important to talk about this loop too

I HATE PICKING CONVERSATION CHOICES WITH LOOOOOP I WANT TO SEE THE OUTCOME OF BOTH OPTIONS IM SO SPOILED!!!!

AHHHH FRIN FIGURED OUT THAT IT's THEIR COJNTRY! THEY TALKED ABt JT! THEY TRIED TO SAY IT!! BWAHHHHHHHH that was so fucking sadddd oh my godddddddd sif's poor clueless friends trying to stop whatever the fuck was happenin 😭😭

is the king's 9999 attack just saying the country's name, lol

wish craft . . .

oh my god oh my god he's gonna torture my friends to death in front of me oh my god holy shit oh my god oh no oh no oh no oh no

say the name siffrin!!! think the name!!!!!!! it'll fuck you up bad enough that you loop!

oh... sif is repeating their wish over and over..... like when they carve

well. finally a loop where sif wakes up freaking out so bad that their script with mirabelle gets way way off track. lol. just like i wanted. haha. shit

I CAN READ THE ISLAND BOOKS NOW???????? damn worth it fr sorry bonbon

i forget if i mentioned that i was thinking about how siffrin doesn't rly have much to look forward to, like his friends are about to disband...?

i was chatting w ari about it lol when she helped me defeat the king earlier, she was very concerned about how sif didn't have a home to return to, all his friends were talking about going back to their homes but where would sif go, isn't that sad

speaking of ari. very four year old raised by lesbians quote: "i like isabeau's name but i don't like his gender..."

siffrin dont get emo about how they don't hug you that first evening you literally already know why, they think you don't like it

damn. forgot about the rock

i had been thinking that the way the island was erased must be similar to the way the loops work, but couldn't fathom how time manip could erase a whole island. the magic being more general makes more sense. did someone wish away color as well....

i love magic systems where belief in a thing makes it more real but jeez this is scary

i was pretty on track with guessing that non-death loops happen when siffrin loses hope. it's whenever he goes oh fuck oh god i wish that hadn't happened

gotta say. i'm getting soo sick of running around unlocking doors so that i can go down a tear dead end for the nth time. plssss let me loop to "some doors unlocked; tear crest not used" 😭

i'm also starting to get low on loop-forward sparkles...

oh wow. siffrin had a really bad dream this tear-touch loop-back. i really can't ever use the dagger he would get plagued by the horrors. not that he isn't already, but,

i love to draw characters with horrifiedly blank expressions and very very tired eyes i can't wait to draw siffrin. lol

this game was made in a lab for me

every time i accidentally get into a fight with a sadness i'm like "siffrin is so fucked up at this point he should be able to just glare at them and scare them the fuck off" and then i remember that i literally currently have that mode equipped, me and the sadness just dodged in the same direction

can i at least get a memory that lets me one-hit KO the sadness crests- wait holy shit i just opened my craft menu and i literally have a new scissor craft called (just attack) when tf did i get that

.... was siffron's island erased specifically because they got gud at wish craft, and that's a power that the world shouldn't be able to harness...?

OH FUCK THE "remembering the name" STAR WAS SO SYMBOLICALLY STRIKING THAT I DIDN'T RVEN REALIZE THAT IT WAS ACTUAL COLOR...

nooo.. no one even reacted to being poked in the gardening room squeeze? right when sif needs it the most? let's make this set of the loops the worst set ever 🤗

what the Fuck is up with croissants though

i can't believe loop got siffrin to admit to themself that beau was planning to confess and siffrin is just using it to beat themself up. "poor isabeau, he probably can't help having a crush on shitty ol me".

i wish i could give siff a good loop but doing the missions makes them sad now 😭

wow. earlier i was like "what if the king is actually siffrin, weird-magic-shenanigans style". bc sif does have some similar thought patterns. but i was like no that's silly. but now this sad diary is talking abt making another self to talk to????

i also wondered if loop is some kinda shade of siffy??

i am writing this tweet while i let siffrin look through the big window in the observatory for a while. as a treat :(

OH THANK GOD.. ISABEAU IS TELLING SIF A NEW JOKE...: that's a much better treat 😭😭😭😭

oh no nvm their second thought was "i'll need to remember to laugh next time"

why don't siff's friends react anymore when he pokes them in the gardening room. it doesn't make sense.....

finally.. my "sif is quiet and moody and everyone notices" loop.......

sif has been super hungry in the commentary lately... more than normal i think... all those wish loops taking a lot of fuel?

have ppl not been reacting to sif's pokes bc they don't want to bother him when he's already obviously having a rough day...

i liked when they sat on the floor after bumping into the table. so real

finally got that death talk with bonnie.... i wonder when i'll get talk #2 with the other characters... odile has been quite sus of me for ages when's she gonna come out with ittt

ISABEAU PUSHING SIFFRIN AWAY.... probably bc siffrin was being very... sudden and depressed and desperate about it...?

did the daydreaming one's sister move to the northern island or something...

THE LIST IN EUPHRASIE's OFFICE!! it's who wished to save vougarde, and who wished for something else!!

bwuh. thinking about the strength behind the wish "i wish i hadn't fucking done that" when you reach out to someone and they push you away

loop confirmed/unified my theories about why siffrin loops back without death sometimes heheh... the specific wording of "something that feels like the world is ending" or whatever also seems in line with my theory that siffrin is scared of leaving their friends tomorrow

they've got croissant trauma. they've got banana trauma. a cheap continental breakfast is siffrin's worst nightmare

poetic that euphrasie finally heard and replied to me on loop 99. waking up on the big double O more hopeless than ever! ☺️

gotta say it so funny that siffrin is forcing themself to try to get everyone's skills in order to beat the king faster when i beat him easily in probably less than half a dozen rounds last time. forgot to even equip the keyknife! these half-assed quests are taking longer than that...

fucked up house??????

i keep accidentally walking right back out of the door i walked into, lol. this is fun though!

also. ghost ✨???

oh.. the ghost ✨ figure i saw was siffrin, with a black hat..?

maybe.. this is the universe's way of granting both wishes...... vougarde is saved, but stuck in time forever. looping the same day of salvation.

i had wondered what would happen if (once?) siffrin totally lost hope, sure that there was no chance of ever, ever getting out. bc when they lose hope they restart. so they'd just. restart immediately. constant loop. with no chance to do anything to regain that hope.

ghost sif time :3c

mal du pays means homesickness...

SIFFRIN TRIPPED AND IZA CAUGHT HIM.. they're touching !

i've been playing at work but i have to stop and actually do some work now.... ty for taking good naps today baby :')

i can't believe mirabelle and siffrin are canonically moirails now

BUT... BUT WHY DOES SIFFRIN HATE CROISSANTS???

also i saw something on a map i was using about a starry hat?? i never got a new hat...

i also never managed to find the book with the tree on the cover again, now that i could read it...

i'm gonna have to find a full 100%ed playthrough to watch on youtube 🫡

---

reading through ISAT socmed... the first time i saw one of the in-world swears in the game i was like "lol stormlight archive vibes" so it's very funny that one of the first posts i see is "my world building advice is to learn from brandon sanderson" i was sooo right. so true

---

makes no sense to me that mirabelle asked siffrin to not spoil her on their convo topics... not spoil on where the convos *went* sure, but how does she not want to know the basic facts that siffrin now knows about her 😭 so wild

if one of my friends was in a time loop i would be like. please sit down and summarize everything we ever talked about so i can be caught up. but thats just me

---

found some youtube video compilations of missable dialogue/events we are so back

AGHH why does this person not show the full cutscenes 😭😭😭 pls i don't want to have to do a whole ass entire top to bottom loop w like 20 object interactions...... maybe i'll just do it at work tomorrow while the baby naps 😩

at least it was pretty easy getting the initial croissant scene ☺️ but i am NOT redoing the entire last two acts to get the related final loop scene or whatever it is -_-

yayy that one's big enough that i found a video of it ☺️ i do wish i'd been able to do it in game myself instead, but. not redoing half the blinding game rn

---

i Am doing a full loop to get the odile thing though... and in doing so i realized apparently i didn't go through the friend quests manually enough times, sif just had a bit of a mental breakdown abt odile's. which does lead up to the last-loop breakdown better!

NOOO I WAS 3/4 OF THE WAY THRU THIS LOOP TO GET A CERTAIN SCENE AND i was on autopilot and meant to use a crest on the tears but i didn't have the crest yet so selecting "yes" meant touching them and dying fuck meee

i hadn't saved at each floor bc i didn't want to touch my save files w this new offshoot canon...

i'm not actually quite sure what info gets carried over from the previous loop when you loop back to the same floor instead of the beginning or forwards? i'm just gonna try and do floor 3 again and see if it works....

either relooping level 3 messed it up or i wasn't able to get enough suspicion points bc the plantain chips didn't make me sick. gonna go slip on the banana five times and try again

---

... i just used the dagger for the second time and now i'm stuck on a plain black screen and i legitimately can't tell if the game is broken or if the game is making me sit and wait for sif to bleed out

ok it's definitely a bug. wow this is so poignant it really does feel like i fucked around and found out

this is so funny i can open my pockets but i can't use the dagger or call loop.

---

I DID IT I GOT THE SCENE!! it was good i'm glad i saw it. wish i hadn't fucked up and had to do it all twice but i DID IT

#in stars and time #in stars and time liveblog

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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 1 month

Text

Why Aren't You Here

🩸Previous Parts Here🩸

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats, mpreg), alpha serial killer/hitman Dom, omega mob boss Kells, cursing, weapons (guns, knives, bombs), murder, bloody, lots and lots of death, scared boys, kidnapping, past abuse, past SA, fighting, cops, news crews, attempted SA, Megan being the absolute worst, a little madness, Dom's darkness, Blain and Kells being badass omegas, denial, lies, the plot is plotting, momma bear Kells, threats, even more death, enemies to lovers 💣 Rating: mature AF

All ideas helped by @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker 🖤

Dom arrived to a hellscape of surreal proportions. There was a helicopter overhead, SWAT, cops, and emergency response members of all kinds. There were news vans and people gathered all over, it made him sick to his stomach. LA was always too bright but it looked like daytime with all the bloody lights. He hadn't been able to get anywhere close with the car so he'd left it blocks away and run. He pulled his hood up and kept his head down, looking around the crowd for his people. When he finally spotted them he tried to appear like any other lurker as he wandered up but the moment he reached Tom and Mod the omega squeezed him in a hug. He took a deep breath and tried to let the scent of family settle his nerves but it wasn't the smell he needed. He was realizing that extra sweet scent on his lover that morning had been his whelp and he craved that more than anything.

“Wha's ‘appening?” He asked, down to business as fast as possible. He kept an arm around his brother but he gave the beta and his computer his attention.

“I still have access to the cameras for now but if they cut the power I'm not sure what will happen. There's a guy on the roof, three in the medical flat with our people, another four walking the floors, one in front of the safe, and Megan has Colson in the lobby. It's like she wants the fucking attention.” The beta huffed and Dom nodded. She might want it but his mate must be pissed. On top of everything else he hated being in the media unless he had control over it. “I don't know for sure how many are in our home.”

“And Blain?” His voice almost broke but he held it together. He wasn't sure how the kid had become so important to him already but the thought of losing him was too much.

Tom made a soft noise like a sniffle that he hid against Dom’s chest which almost made the Alpha's heart stop. Mod just shrugged and bit his lip, looking up at the windows they knew were theirs. “Colson disabled ours when you moved in for some reason.” The beta blushed because they all knew exactly why. They had a habit of fucking wherever they felt like and of course his mate didn't want the wrong person seeing. With his green hair Dom couldn't help but think Mod looked like an upside down easter basket and he let out a strained laugh. He might truly be going insane. “Kids a badass.”

“He's a bloody kid. Show me Cols.” Dom demanded and the other pulled up that camera in full screen. Megan was too fucking close to his family. The omega's face was bloody and his teeth were grit, he was leaning over with his hands on the counter but he was still glaring at the bitch. At least he hadn't lost his fight yet.

“There's bombs in the stairwell and I think she has the detonator. That's why SWAT won't go in.” Tom explained and the boy felt wild with grief and fear. He was so focused on the image of his love he growled when someone touched his shoulder but when he looked it was just Tim.

“I hate to be the one to tell you but I think he's in labor. Something was up at work so I sent his ass home to The Doc. I'm sorry Dom.” The older man looked gutted but it obviously wasn't his fault.

“You did the right fing. I should ‘ave been ‘ere. She'd ‘ave been dead before she even looked at ‘im if so.” The blame game didn't matter, he could hate himself later, but he didn't want anyone taking guilt they didn't deserve.

“Where were you?” The man asked and Dom rolled his lip between his teeth. He couldn't get into it right now.

“Collette needed me. She'll be ‘ere soon. Keep an eye out. And Tim, keep ya ‘ead about yas aye?” He wouldn't ruin the fucked up surprise because he didn't have time, he had to rescue his family.

He gave Tom one last hug which both betas got in on, he didn't like being touched but he understood their need. With one last look at his mate on screen he took a deep breath and melted into the shadows with a practiced ease. He was both thankful for his past and hating it, being a serial killer gave him special skills but being the most prolific one the world had seen in years made him not exactly friendly with the coppers. He avoided them and the cameras as best he could until he reached the hidden way he got inside for the first few months of their relationship. Before they met he made friends with a smoke happy janitor who knew all the secret spots to toke up. Dom had acted like that's all he was looking for and shared a joint with the guy on the roof. The poor idiot, he should really have him fired now but he was still thankful for the help.

Climbing the ladder was more difficult than it ever had been before. Every few rungs he had to twist himself to one side and hide against the edge of the building. The way it was designed he had a little coverage but barely and it wasn't long before he had the helicopter flood light timed. Before he reached the top he took his inhaler, he'd been wheezing since he ran for the building. He couldn't help but think what a silly picture of a hero he made but he wasn't that and he never would be. Not like his mate.

He stopped at the top and risked a quick glance over to pinpoint where the guard was. The bastard was near the door to the stairwell because no one really knew about his secret one. It was some remnant of when the place was built, left over for window washers and the like. It only took the Alpha a moment to pull out two of his blades but he waited for the light to pass over one more time.

He exhaled a shaking breath and threw a knife, hopping onto the roof at the same time. He ran as fast as he could and caught the man before he fell and dragged him to the other side of the building. He pushed him over the edge and jumped onto his balcony as the dying bloke thudded onto it. He didn't stop moving until he had the glass door open and he was sliding the fucker inside. He had the door shut before the light ran over the building again. He was damn glad he'd taken his inhaler on second thought.

He kept pulling until he had the intruder on the tile floor of the bathroom and finally he ripped the blade free. The first spurt of crimson had him smiling and his shoulders relaxed as he slipped into his much needed other headspace. He started to kneel out of habit, ready to slice into the jerk more but of course he couldn't. He didn't have the time. This wasn't for fun for fucks sake. “Almost distracted me. Fuck you! First ya tried to mess me carpet and get me in trouble. ‘Ow bloody dare yas.” He gave the man a swift kick to his neck and the sound of bones breaking underfoot soothed his rage.

His next move was out into the bedroom to look inside the closet. A fight had obviously broken out but he didn't see blood or bodies. He rushed to his drawer of knives and slipped them wherever he could on his body but as he left through the bedroom he paused at the bedside table. “Fuck. Ya knew you'd get me ‘ere eventually didn't yas? You know I bloody ‘ate ‘em. Ya went into labor on purpose didn't yas? Wanted to stress me out. Make me mental.” He pulled his hoodie off and tossed it on the bed as he spoke out loud to his lover who obviously couldn't hear him. He yanked open the drawer and pulled out his mate's gun, they'd been keeping it there since it basically became a sex toy. A loaded one. “Bloody ‘ell.”

Exploring the flat was easy in his darker state of mind. He wasn't thinking of what he might find, he was focused on what he got to kill when he did. It was a cat and mouse game, a hunt for him, a predator searching out his prey. He found the first body in Blain's room, his carpet soaked in blood. There was a dead beta cut to ribbons and he couldn't help but smirk. In the kitchen was another, bleeding out on the tile. At least he'd be easier to clean up. “Where's the boy?” He growled.

“Fuck you and your little slut.” The bastard spluttered blood on his floor and he rolled his surely crimson eyes before he crushed the fucker's windpipe under his creeper.

“Grandpa shoes me arse.” He muttered as he stopped at the safe and found a silencer to screw into his weapon. He barely knew what he was doing but it was a day of firsts he supposed. Of course his lover would drag him out of his comfort zone.

The stairwell was a mess when he entered it, red everywhere as if someone had exploded. Between their floor and the next was another dying beta which he put out of his own misery with a bullet to the forehead. Normally he loved death rattles but gasping for air through a ripped open throat bothered his misophonia. He only liked wet noises when it was coming from his omega's cunt or mouth. He was distracted from his thoughts and annoyance by the first bomb which he took a picture of with his phone and sent it to his brother. He wasn't sure if there was something he could do from here or if he needed the detonator. He was so wrapped up in his wondering he didn't notice the form coming for him until something jumped on his back from a floor down.

“The fuck?” He huffed.

“Dom?” A small voice sounded right next to his ear before the boy dropped and he turned to face his tiny attacker.

“You alive?” They whispered at the same time and hugged each other tight. When the Alpha finally got a good look at the kid he couldn't be prouder. He was an absolute mess.

“Did ya see? Ain't let a one of ‘em touch me. They keep trying but I'm better. I was trying to get to The Doc when tha’ fucker grabbed me from behind-” His voice broke and Dom held him closer.

“You did so good. I'm proud of you. I'm so bloody sorry I weren't ‘ere. I should ‘ave taken ya wiv me to confront Collette. I'm sorry.” The words were rushing out before he could think better of it. It wasn't exactly the time for apologies but he couldn't seem to stop himself.

“It's alright. I protected the ‘ome. Did ya see? Didn't let ‘em get me.” Blain repeated himself and his voice sounded wet. Dom knew everything was starting to hit him now that he felt safe. He didn't want to be an arse but it wasn't time for that yet. They had to save everyone. He was genuinely worried the kid might be lying to himself but he couldn't ask yet. He swore mentally he'd be a good father as soon as they were done but he had to protect both his children first.

“You did. I'm so proud of yas and Cols will be too. We ‘ave to get ‘im, Megan's got ‘im downstairs.”

Blain went stiff against him and took a deep breath, wiping his face on Dom's chest before he took a step back and held his blade at the ready. “Let's kill ‘er. Bitch messed wiv the wrong family.”

“Damn straight.” Dom knew he picked up the saying from his mate but he didn't care. It was appropriate for the moment and it made them both grin.

They entered the next level to find only two bastards with guns, it seemed the third that should have been watching their omegas had gone for Blain in the stairwell. The Alpha took them both out quick and quiet, slitting their throats from behind. It only worked because one was at the door and the other was leering at their people. Disgusting fuck. The Doctor and Dorothy were happy to see them but he couldn't linger long. He took the weapons off the bodies and passed them to the girls and they followed him back out and down the stairs.

With his hair dripping sweat and his gun held out in front of him he scanned every floor and took out intruders as he found them. His pulse picked up the closer they got to the ground floor and he had a passing thought of wondering if he looked like a mother duck leading her ducklings which made him laugh again. Yeah, he was definitely going mental. He picked off the bastards one by one but when they reached the first floor Blain stopped him.

“Go get him, we can handle anyone else. They need ya.” The boy gave him a quick hug and The Doctor though still teary gave him the Star Trek signal again. He nodded at them all and slipped into the shadows, he knew he'd have to be careful with another Alpha.

🖤💣🖤

“You realize there's fucking cameras everywhere right? Even if you make it out of this alive you're going to be arrested. How the hell do you plan to get out of this?” Colson finally asked, he'd been mostly silent for too long. He'd been listening to her rant for what felt like hours. She'd gone off about his parents, his mate, the family, and she'd been explaining to him in detail how easy it was to steal the other group. Who wouldn't follow a sexy female Alpha? He'd barely kept his snark in check for that one.

“Look at me, who would condemn me for finally fighting back against the boss who'd been abusing me for years? It won't be hard to make everyone believe me. Pretty privilege is real. You could have tried it. You always took the hard way but now all your lies are coming to bite you in the ass Daddy. Now you look like all the other asshole Alphas and I look like the poor girl who just wanted to break through the glass ceiling. Of course after years of you assaulting me and making me love you when I found out the truth I snapped! I'm doing the world a favor, taking you out and exposing Yungblud. I'll have to off him too then I'll really be a hero. A fucking icon.”

Colson's stomach rolled but he hadn't stopped being nauseous the whole time. Her lies were disgusting but that was just her. Nothing was real and he was pretty sure it never had been. The scary thing was that she could probably pull it off. As long as she only killed him and his mate and people that obviously worked for him- rest in peace driver, she could probably pout her fake lips and cry crocodile tears enough that everyone would listen. He had a reputation for selling people, though the DA could never prove it. She'd get off scott free wouldn't she? The only way out was to kill her. Even then he might end up in prison if the feds used this to their advantage and said the omegas upstairs were kidnapped and held against their will by him. Was there enough evidence against Dom in their home? Would they be safe if they made it out alive?

Another cramp locked up his hips and belly and his knees went weak. He snuck a look at his watch as he grit his teeth and he knew his pains were too close together. He could tell Punk was close to joining the world and he knew he had to act fast. He had to get to The Doc. “Shit! Okay! Okay. I hear you. I'm sorry for all I've put you through. You're right about me and you were right about Travis.” It broke something inside him to lie through his teeth like that but he had to. He had to do something. He'd never waited to be saved since his adoptive father took him in.

Her eyes looked softer and she lowered her gun and he moved his palm to his lower back as if he were rubbing out the ache. “He was in love with you but my mom wouldn't let him go. She tried to pull me away from you too. I'm so sorry. You've always deserved better. She didn't want me with you so she brought Dom in. I went along with it to make her happy but you always saw the truth didn't you?” She stepped closer and he felt his skin crawl.

“Of course I did. You're my twin flame Cols, you were always supposed to be my omega. I knew you needed me. Why does your mom hate me so much?” She huffed, dropping her arm to her side. When the Alpha got even closer he tried to breathe through his mouth. Her scent was always wrong to him but now it was hell on his senses.

“I don't fucking know.” He shook his head. He very much knew but he had been lying so much of his life it was second nature. Almost easier than telling the truth. “She didn't want us to be happy. She probably knew how much better you would lead the family.”

“I will. I'll make us legends. You'll let me kill her right? She can't be alive to fuck with us anymore.”

“Hell, I'll kill her for you. A mating gift.” He dropped his voice and let pain fill it though to her the growl sounded like need. Her palm laid against his bruised cheek and his arm wrapped around her back. “If you'll have me?”

“Of course Daddy.” She purred, pressing her body far too close. “Just one other thing I need from you…” She trailed off, standing on tiptoe. Three things happened simultaneously, her lips pressed to his as he sunk a blade into her stomach and she cut his own with her claw like fake nails. He gasped at the added pain as she choked on blood and stumbled back a few inches, her hand falling from his cheek to her wound. “I want your brat dead.” She growled and tried to jump for him but something hit her and she fell to her knees.

It took him a second to realize she'd been shot, he'd heard it but it was muffled and he was lost to pain and fear. His fingers searched out the gash in his skin but he hoped it was only a surface wound. He couldn't feel anything bulging out but he stumbled away from her just in case. He watched as she fell and bled out, he thought he would feel relief but he kept expecting her to jump back up and yell surprise. So much was fake about the bitch why not her death too?

Dominic was panting by the time he reached his lover. He'd been terrified to shoot her so close to his mate but when she moved to cut Col's belly open he had to do something. He hadn't realized the older man had already stabbed her with one of the boy's knives. How bloody apt. He stalked over to her and kicked her foot, just making sure she was gone. Part of him wanted to make a show of her but he had other things to focus on.

“Shit Dom? Dom!” Colson's voice was shot from stress and strained from pain, it broke his heart to hear and he turned to race for him.

“I've got yas. I'm ‘ere. You alright?” He asked, his hands reaching out to steady the omega's trembling form.

Distantly the killer noticed The Doctor leading out some of their people and he was glad for it but he wished she'd come to check on Kells soon. “I don't fucking think so.”

“Wha’s wrong luv?” He didn't know why the fuck he asked, obviously the answer was everything.

“I think… I think my water just broke. You have to get me the fuck out of here.” For the first time during the entire mess the omega let himself cry. He felt safer now that his Alpha was there but he was terrified still. His whole world was about to change. He didn't want any of that on the fucking news at eleven. He couldn't be outed like that.

Dom's gaze dropped first to Colson's pants and then to the floor underneath. The man was right, everything around him was soaked in something similar to slick but wasn't. Even the bags of whatever the omega had brought home. “I fink you ruined wha’ever shopping ya did.” He couldn't help but tease.

“Fuck you! Punk did it. Little fucker takes after their dad.” Another roll of intense pain locked up the man's body and had him kneeling in the mess. Dom ran for the door but a gun was trained on him from across the street. He held up his hands and backed up, joining his mate in kneeling on the floor. He placed his forehead against his partner's and let Kells squeeze his hand in his own.

“I don't fink we gonna be able to get out baby. I fink we stuck in ‘ere alone.”

“What? What the fuck? Can't they see the wicked bitch is dead?” Kells sobbed out. He didn't want to be trapped anymore. He needed his doctor and his mom. Where was everyone?

“‘Ey, listen to me. I've got you Colson. I've got ya boff. Do you trust me?” Dom was terrified but he could be strong for his family. He fucking hoped.

“To get a baby out of me? What? Are you gonna use your psycho bitch skills?” He didn't mean it. He was scared shitless. His Alpha understood and just smiled and kissed his forehead. “Yes. Fuck me but yes. I do as long as you tell me where the hell you've been all day!”

Dom swallowed hard and tried not to make a face. Bloody fuck he didn't know how to explain this shite.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 if anyone wants tagged let me know 🖤

Oh boy look at that! Is Megan really dead? What is Dom hiding? Why won't the cops let them out? I love seeing them all bond like they are and I enjoy them all being so badass. We're so close to the end! I can't wait for part two, a lot more family time to come! I hope you're still enjoying it! 🩸💣🖤

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