#more like team white trash

[change-the-rules]

there's just something inherently hysterical to me about toni doing her square-ass little prepared cheer routine meanwhile in fantasy filter land the lights dim and the beat drops as cheryl's looking at her like toni's an oasis and she's been crawling around the desert for days

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[andypantsx3]

SOMETHING IN THE WATER | 5 | SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: As a future marine biologist, you’ve scored big on your final internship: a summer in the tropics, researching the waters off the coast of a lush, sunny island. But what you thought would be all beach days and piña coladas turns out to be the revelation of a lifetime when you haul in a handsome merprince, and discover not everything in these waters is quite as it seems. TAGS/WARNINGS: mermaid au, interspecies relationships, mating rituals/courting behavior, (sort of) case fic, aged up characters, eventual smut, fem pronouns/afab reader LENGTH: 3.5k of est. 21k, 5th of 8 chapters

It was pollution. No doubt about it.

Under the lens of one of Kamui’s microscopes, the evidence was incontrovertible. The piece of white coral Shouto had brought you sported distinct traces of industrial processing chemicals that had almost certainly contributed to its bleaching, the concentration high enough that it had also probably choked the life out of the nearby environment.

It was high enough, in fact, that you were absolutely floored your team hadn’t come across even a hint of anything similar before. Based on the levels, you should have been finding at least smaller traces close to the area it came from, but nothing you’d found so far had even hinted at anything like this.

Which begged the question, just where in the hell had Shouto gotten it from?

When you legged it back down to the beach, however, both the merman and your sandwich were missing. The only evidence of his presence were the slices of mozzarella that had clearly been picked out of the sandwich, laid out cleanly on the wrapper you’d left behind.

You’d sighed and cleaned your trash up, then slogged back to your room for a shower and a few hours of sleep, stowing the coral away safely to show to your team in the morning.

When you awoke, however, you realized you would have no way of explaining to them where you’d obtained it, and no way to point them any closer to the source of the issue. You resolved to find Shouto as soon as possible to figure out what was going on, hopefully before the scheduled tour of Sunfish.

You rocketed through your morning tasks, and hurriedly volunteered to take over trap checking duty, disappearing out the door before Yu could so much as get out a reply.

You boated north to the reef where you’d first met Shouto, and jumped into the water before you’d even gotten your snorkeling gear on properly, certain the merman would somehow find you. You’d nearly finished checking the trap, kicking off the seafloor to rise back to the surface when a hand seized your elbow, guiding you back up.

Shouto’s handsome face was staring back at you when you yanked off your goggles, his distinctive hair slicked back with ocean water, the scar around his eye a deep pink in the sunlight. Sunlight glittered off the droplets on his skin, making him look even more ethereal than he usually did, and your breath momentarily seized in your chest.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, your face going hot when it came out weirdly breathy. Embarrassing.

A tiny little smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and his fingers flexed on your elbow. “Hello,” he said in his deep, even tone.

Even that simple greeting somehow made you flush. You quickly marshaled yourself, trying to remember you had come here with an agenda, not to float here stupidly in the water, staring at him.

“Shouto—that coral you gave me yesterday? One of them has the signs of the pollution I was looking for!”

Shouto blinked, a droplet of water sliding down the side of his straight, handsome nose. Your eyes seemed weirdly glued to it as it reached the edge of his mouth.

“Then you liked it? It had…microbes?” he asked.

You nodded distractedly. “Sort of. Signs of microbial unhealth and chemically-induced bleaching. And I did like it. I think you might have actually solved the whole case for me!”

Shouto’s mouth pulled into a fuller, happier smile, just enough to bare the tops of those sharp teeth. You blinked, momentarily stunned, looking back up into his eyes to find him watching you intently.

“You liked it. My gift,” he said, something strangely smug in his tone. A little thrill raced through you, a frission of pleasure, at having put that expression on his face, that tone in his voice. Your ears went hot, and you pointedly did not think about why his pleasure made you so pleased as well.

“Yeah, I loved it,” you nodded, startled when Shouto’s fingers slid from your elbow to your wrist, lifting it up to his face.

But then in the next instant his expression shifted, his brows furrowing and the edges of his smile dipping. Instantly, you mourned the loss of it.

“But…you are not wearing it,” he said. “Either of them.”

Your eyelashes fluttered themselves in another disconcerted blink. Had…that been a requirement? Had he said that to you, yesterday?

You didn’t think you’d had much conversation between him handing over the bits of coral and you rushing off to the lab with them, but maybe that had been his expectation of what you would do with them. Maybe that was a common merperson thing, and you were too ignorant to think of it.

In fact, you hadn’t even taken the time to ask him why he’d given the coral bits to you, too focused on getting them under Kamui’s microscope like a huge disrespectful idiot.

You flushed, suddenly feeling incredibly rude. Was this a merperson custom you had just flagrantly ignored?

“Am I—? Is that something your people, um, do?” you asked. “Wear coral?”

Shouto nodded, those mismatched eyes still glued to your bare wrist. His fingers carefully shifted to encircle it, like he was replacing the expected bits of coral with his own hold on you. Your face burned and you paddled a little bit harder in the water, expelling nervous energy.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t know. Of course I will wear them, I just need to find some kind of string—” A sudden thought seized you. “Except—-well, Shouto, I need that white coral to prove pollution. I need to show it to my team, and be able to explain where I got it from. They might need to send it off as evidence.”

Shouto’s fingers tightened on you, though you noted he was still mindful of his claws. A hissing noise exploded out of him, and that scraping feeling burned at the back of your throat again, the bioelectric signal of his distaste clear enough.

“It is yours, not theirs,” he hissed, his handsome face suddenly all twisted up.

You could quite literally feel how distressed he was, and your heart throbbed with the realization that you were the cause.

You immediately backtracked, horrified. You shifted in the merman’s grip, twisting your hand to grab his wrist too, and put your other hand to his shoulder, holding him firmly.

“I’m sorry—Shouto, yes of course it’s mine. Of course I won’t give it to them,” you said, trying to angle your face to look into his eyes. “I didn’t realize—of course I will keep it with me.”

To your surprise, Shouto calmed immediately. The snarl faded from his mouth, his lips resuming their normal soft, sweet shape, and his other hand came to rest at your waist, pulling you a fraction closer to him.

“You promise,” he asked, though it was phrased more like a statement than a question.

You had to fight back a shocked laugh at how easily he’d been rerouted, and how unbelievably fleeting and childish that little tantrum had been. A prince of his people and here he was, getting fussy with you!

There was nothing for your exasperated snort, your helpless smile. “Yes, yes, I promise. But you have to help me collect another piece of white coral from where you got it originally. I promise it’s important.”

Shouto’s hands tightened on you, and you found yourself being dragged closer, so that he was holding you up in the water, only inches from the hard planes of his chest. His tail brushed against the inside of your thigh, the scales rasping lightly over the skin there. You went still, a little thrill racing up your spine at his sudden, more immediate proximity.

“You want me to take you there,” he said, his voice suddenly a little deeper.

You blinked. “I—yes? Is that…okay?”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed in on you, and you shifted nervously in his hold as his pupils went a little more slitted, a little more inhumanly focused. “It is an area of some significance to my people, though it is now difficult to get to. Your kind has begun to touch it.”

Your interest piqued. Humans had begun to touch it, alright. Judging by the chemical processing agents left behind on the piece of coral Shouto had given you, you could guess exactly which humans had touched it, too.

“Is it Sunfish?” you couldn’t help but ask, perking up in his hold.

Shouto inclined his head, a movement that brought his mouth almost dangerously close to yours. Your breath choked off in your lungs.

“Yes,” Shouto replied. “The…microbes you are interested in, then…? They are to do with Sunfish?”

You nodded excitedly, eagerly sucking in another breath. “Yes, yes! God, I’m so stupid, I should have told you earlier—anything to do with where Sunfish is operating is of interest to me. We’ve been testing the—um, the microbes to put it simply—around the area but if Sunfish has somewhere we haven’t been yet, that’s what I’m looking to know.”

Shouto looked thoughtful, and a claw trailed absently down the skin of your arm. You jumped, startled.

“Then I will take you,” he said, eyes cutting back to yours. “On one condition.”

You felt your eyebrows raise. Well that was unexpected of him. Who knew mermen knew how to bargain?

“Name your price,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth quirked then, a hint of a sharp incisor showing, but the rest of his expression was strangely sincere. “I want dinner and a movie,” he said, a claw trailing sweetly, absently down the skin of your arm again. “Like you said humans do.”

You could feel your eyebrows escaping towards your hairline, your mouth going slack. “You want to watch a movie and have dinner,” you repeated, floored.

Shouto inclined his head, the damp strands of red and white mingling with the movement. “You said I would like a movie.”

Damn. You had said that, hadn’t you? But you couldn’t think how in the hell you were going to get Shouto to a movie. It wasn’t like there was a movie theater on this island, and besides that it wasn’t like you could just piggyback a real life merman into one.

You supposed if pressed, you could preload something on the shitty island wifi and then bring your laptop down to the beach and watch things that way. But what if someone spotted the light and came looking? Shouto could disappear quick enough, you had no doubt, but how to explain the laptop?

And then it occurred to you: the inn had a maintenance shed, just off the main office. A sudden image came to you of wheeling Shouto uphill in a wheelbarrow, getting him into the tub in your room, and setting up a few pillows for yourself, and some kind of dinner spread on the floor.

It was unconventional. But then—so was the idea of dinner and a movie with a merman at all.

You stuck out your hand, making a mental note to swing by the maintenance shed on your way back in tonight. “It’s a deal.”

Shouto stared at your fingers, seeming not to know what to do with the gesture, until you took one of his hands in your own, pumping it up and down. He held on for too long after that, those crimson-tipped fingers closing in over your own, warm and wet and strong.

“Then I will take you now, if you like,” Shouto said. “If you are ready.”

You nodded, paddling your feet a little uselessly in his hold, in eager anticipation. Confirmation of Sunfish’s activity, and the chance to see a place meaningful to Shouto and his people. It was a dream come true for any marine biologist.

Shouto let you go, following you slowly as you paddled back to the boat, swimming leisurely, looping circles around you. He helped boost you back into the boat, and then hauled himself up after you on the strength of his arms alone. The back of your neck went very warm, as you watched his muscle coil and flex as he pulled himself in, then looked at you imploringly.

“I will point the way and you will take us,” he said, slithering across the floor of the boat to slide in next to you behind the wheel. He peered at all the meters and dials interestedly, pressing a crimson claw to one.

You had to laugh at the ridiculousness of a merman sitting behind the wheel of a boat, and another wild idea occurred to you.

“Wanna learn how to drive?” you asked.

Shouto’s eyes slid over to you, turquoise and grey pinning you to your seat. “To operate the boat?”

You nodded. Another hot flush crept across your cheeks as a slow smile spread over Shouto’s mouth, those mismatched eyes glittering.

“Yes,” he said. “I should like that very much.”

You gestured him over to your seat, rising out of it as Shouto slid all that heavy muscle your way, the scales of his tail bright and fiery in the sun. He was warm and smelled like salt up close, and you tried not to take note of the way his bicep flexed as he moved to grip the wheel in taloned fingers.

You gave him a brief run through of all the meters and gauges, the fuel level meter, speedometer, the ammeter and engine hours. He seemed disinterested in all but the speed—a typical man, even if only his upper half looked it.

Then you showed him the throttle and how to turn the key to start and what degrees of movement of the wheel at a higher speed wouldn’t send both of you flying out of the boat. And then you sank down next to him, gripping the seat for safety as he started the boat, looking thrilled.

He guided the boat off the reef more carefully than you would have expected, but he grew bolder as you made it out into deeper waters, applying a ton of throttle instantly and sending you falling backwards in your seat. You zoomed across the gentle waves, horrifyingly fast, but unexpectedly smoothly for someone who had just learned. Shouto seemed intimately familiar with the island’s layout, navigating smoothly through some of the shallow channels that gave you an almost-regular heart attack, gliding easily across the waves and not seeming to catch a single one the wrong way.

A thrilled laugh bit out of you, getting lost in the wind as you sped across the sea. Shouto’s mouth pulled into a wider smile, looking pleased with himself, those sharp teeth white in the sun. You found yourself smiling, at the ludicrousness of being driven around by a merprince, and at how much Shouto looked like he was enjoying himself.

In almost no time Shouto was steering you into a shallow cove on the eastern side of the island a couple hundred meters away from where you’d laid out an observation station. As you slowed to a stop you helped anchor the boat, feeling your brows furrowing back down in confusion, the smile slipping off your face.

If there was any level of pollution in this cove then you would have known about it from the nearby observation station. You weren’t sure if Shouto had the right spot.

But as you turned back to him he pointed a claw towards the jut of the land, aiming with certainty. “There used to be a cave through which we could access the lagoon,” he said. “But it is blocked off to us now.”

You stared at him, befuddled. “Blocked off? By what?”

Shouto’s mouth thinned into an irritated line. “By some human invention—I do not know what it is.”

Your eyebrows raised. “Then—how did you get the coral out of this, uh, lagoon if you can’t access it?”

Shouto’s eyes dipped, following your words as your mouth shaped them, looking strangely intent. Your ears went hot.

“I climbed,” he said simply.

You whipped around to stare back at the strip of land rising into the jungle. You could just make out a clearing in the trees where you thought a lagoon might lay. And it was no small distance. Your jaw dropped, imagining Shouto having to drag himself over meters and meters of land to get there.

Your stomach fluttered, the white coral suddenly taking on a new significance if Shouto had gone to such trouble for it. It had to be more than just an area of interest to his people—-it more likely had to be extremely significant if this was the length merpeople had to go for this coral. No wonder he hadn’t liked the idea of you testing it, of you surrendering it and mailing it out and away, if he’d had to pull himself over land like that to get it.

And with this realization, a new, wildly disconcerting thought crept over you, an insane flight of fancy.

Was it possible that Shouto had given you… not just a friendly gift, but something even more meaningful than you had initially realized? If this was a site of cultural significance, and he’d suffered to get the coral for you—did it mean something a little bit more intimate than an exchange between new friends?

Your gaze darted back over to Shouto, sitting pertly in his seat. He struck such a handsome profile, all sleek muscle and delicately carved features, his face carefully-noted and almost supernaturally angelic. His coloring, too, was magnificent, the rose of his scar, the deep scarlet of his scales and his claws. And he was so sweet, and funny, and so very interesting. He was unlike anything—anyone—you had ever seen, and the thought of him fetching you a gift of special significance made an even more blistering wave of heat flare up in your belly.

You rose from your seat, determined to see this lagoon for yourself.

“Alright, you wait here,” you told Shouto, “I’m going to go check it out.”

He nodded, watching you closely as you went to the bag of supplies, fishing out a camera, the log book, your shoes, and a couple pieces of sampling equipment. You stuffed them all in a dry bag, rolling the top down tight and buckling securely.

“You will be careful,” Shouto intone in his deep voice, more an order than a question.

You smiled up at him, nodding your head. “Yes. I’ll be back in just a couple of minutes.”

He looked satisfied with that, and helped lower you down into the water to swim for land. He slithered off the edge beside you, sinking smoothly into the water like a dropped stone, and swam along underneath you, following you all the way until you clambered onto the sand. You hurriedly dug around in your bag for your shoes, stuffing your feet into them still sandy and damp as Shouto looked on.

Once properly outfitted, you followed the beach as it trailed off into scrub and bushes, and then into towering palms, making your way into the jungle. The sun shone brightly through the leaves, painting everything around you in shades of sunlit green, the air under the canopy thicker than on the beach. Your feet slid over the damp sand in your sneakers, a sensation you did not particularly enjoy, but you walked briskly, your curiosity leading you onwards.

In only a few minutes, the trees once again gave way to a small strip of sand, and you spilled out onto the beach of the lagoon.

It was instantly clear to you exactly what Shouto had meant. A large metallic wall dammed off one side of the lagoon, most probably blocking off the underwater channel Shouto had told you about. It had been bolted into the jutting coral and rock around it, sealing off any water flow. Around it, the ancient coral walls of the lagoon were bone white wherever the water lapped at them, disturbingly bleached of color, and you thought the scrub and the trees that had built up over the surface overtime looked a little bit unhealthy too.

Shouto had most definitely gotten his coral from here.

As you looked around your certainty grew, until you spotted the most damning evidence. Only a scant few meters away from where you had come out of the forest, there was a pipe dug into the earth, sitting about a meter above the water level of the lagoon. It was still shiny, clearly new, and it was also dribbling the occasional bit of liquid into the lagoon, as if someone were piping certain substances out and away from the rest of their facilities.

Your heart rate doubled at the sight, and you knew even as you unloaded your equipment to take samples that you had found exactly what you had been looking for.

There was no doubt in your mind that this pipe led back to Sunfish. And Shouto had indeed just solved this entire case.

[lovelytsunoda]

kill of the night // lando norris

summary: she hates parties. especially quadrant parties hosted in large creepy mansions. at least the hot pirate hosting the party is into her, or she would have left ages ago.

pairing: lando norris x female reader

warnings: consumption of alcohol, lando cannot take anything seriously to save his life, the eerie feeling of being watched (anxiety or haunted house, you decide), pirate themed sexual innuendos, mention of spiders (arachnophobia warning!) reader has mild autism

the lights were low and the music loud as she pushed her way through the crowd, desperate for a drink and a moment of peace. the music was bad (some club mix of the rocky horror picture soundtrack) and all she wanted was for her massive headache to go away.

too bad she didn’t drink often. maybe something stronger than a hard lemonade would make this evening bearable.

she sat at the bar, feeling the eerie sensation of all eyes on her as she scanned the sea of bodies for the slew of other glittery fairy wings she had arrived with. she didn't even know some of the girls that well. all of the girls from her program had been invited, and she was trying to be a team player.

one girl was making out with a stranger, two others playing beer pong. the rest were lost to the crowd, dancing in ways that would definitely have disappointed their parents.

when the tuxedoed bartender came back with the crystal tumbler that had her vodka lemonade in it, she frowned at the tiny plastic sword, a gummy worm speared through it.

she just wanted a normal fucking drink.

sighing, she grabbed the glass and got to her feet, sending one last glance to the other girls before she started making her way towards the exit, mindful of the massive plastic wings strapped to her back. she had half a mind to just rip them off and throw them into the nearest trash can.

the outside hallway wasn't much better, and she found herself reaching into her purse for her airpods, less for music and more to just to cancel out the noise. she extracted the green plastic sword, taking the gummy worm off the plastic and dropping it into her mouth. the dj was playing ghostbusters, and she wanted nothing more than to be back home in her small, peaceful dorm, wrapped in her fleece blanket and reading 'love in the time of serial killers', or in the warm movie theatre watching 'a haunting in venice'.

instead she was here.

folding the small sword over in her hands, she grabbed her drink from the side table and made her way down the dreary hallway to get some fresh air.

the outside of the mansion was peaceful, if not a little disused. the hedges were neatly trimmed, the flowers well tended to as she sat down on a stone bench, the cold from the surface seeping in through the fabric of her dress as she took a sip of her drink.

truth be told, the peaceful atmosphere of the large, creepy mansion had been one of the few reasons she had agreed to come, living out her 'haunted mansion' fantasy: ghost who's been pining after her for centuries, the promise of eternal love. all but the evil ghost butler trying to kill her.

"the party's inside, you know!" a shout carried over the breeze, bristol accent sharp.

she yelped, dropping her drink and watching the glass shatter against flagstone.

"jesus! you can't just sneak up on people like that!" she shouted, yanking out her earbuds. "what is wrong with you, you fucking wanker!"

she got to her feet, spinning around to see who had spoken. he was tall enough (taller than her at least), dressed in a billowy white shirt and leather vest, leather breeches hugging his impressive thighs, a mane of curly brunette hair on the top of his head, and a fake sword strapped to his thigh.

at least, she hoped it was fake.

"woah, hang on." he frowned, coming closer to her. he looked like a prince, straight out of a disney movie. "i didn't mean to scare you."

could this be him? the ghost lover from her haunted mansion fantasy?

"it's fine. i guess i'm just jumpy. mansions that are almost certainly haunted will do that to a girl." she took a step back, trying to avoid the smashed glass as she turned, intending to go back to the stone bench before her wing got caught on a hedge. she cursed, resisting the urge to yank at the iridescent plastic.

"let me help." the stranger encouraged, coming closer to the hedge.

she shook her head. "it's fine, just let me take it off my back."

she gently eased out of the elastic straps securing the wings to her body, attempting to make it happen as gracefully as possible. one wing snapped back and smacked her in the face, and she tried to shake it off as she moved away, allowing them to dangle dejectedly from the hedge.

the prince came to stand beside her, his cologne overloading her senses as her reached over her to help disentangle the wings, his body heat against her back making her skin flush.

"here you go." his voice was soft as her passed her back her costume.

she could have left the wings there, she'd only paid three dollars to make them. she folded them up, placing the scratchy plastic on the stone bench before looking down at the shattered crystal.

“sorry about the glass. you’ll probably have to pay for it, being the host and all.”

“how did you know I was the host?”

her face blushed pink “havw you ever seen the haunted mansion? the original one with eddie murphy and wallace shawn?”

she gave him an opening, ready to hide her face behind her hands if it didn’t work out. there was a slight pause, and then he burst out laughing.

“you think that I’m some dead ghostly prince searching for his lost love?” he sputtered. “hate to break it to ya, tinker bell, but I’m not a prince, and I am very much alive.”

“I never said you were dead!” she crossed her arms indignantly, stomping one sneaker-clad foot against the flagstones.

chuckling, the suitor extended his hand. “I’m lando.”

“y/n.” she sighed, reaching to shake his hand. “sorry about the hostility, I just felt overstimulated in there. it’s the ‘tism in me.”

lando gestured for her to sit on one of the benches, looking out at the algae-caked fountain. it smelled earthly, yet his cologne was still all she could comprehend.

“have you had a chance to explore the house? based solely on your haunted mansion statement, I feel like that would be something you were in to.”

“it’s the only reason I came, truth be told. I hate parties, but some of the girls o study with thought it would be a good idea. what i didn’t realize was that we’d all be packed into the ballroom and pretty much the rest of the house would be off limits.”

lando laughed, straddling the bench next to her, one leg on either side. not very prince-like, if you had asked y/n. “well, I didn’t pick the venue. you can thank max and steve for that.”

“I don’t know who either of those people are.”

“I work with them in quadrant, they’re hosting this thing. I’d stepped out for a minute to take a business call.”

she snorted. “you? a business call?”

“what’s so hard to believe about that?” lando feigned offence, smacking his chest with his palm. “and why did your mind immediately go to the haunted mansion when you saw me? I was going for less master gracey and more will turner.”

“please, you’re jack sparrow at best. I can tell you bought your little pirate outfit at spirit halloween. and if my first instinct was that you were dressed as a prince, something is missing.”

she propped one leg lengthwise on the bench, tucking one sneaker-clad foot under the other, smoothing her dress over as to not give the man in front of her a glaring look at her dusty pink panties (although an intrusive thought did prompt her to wonder what would happen if she did).

“have you had a chance to explore the mansion yet?” she asked the man. well, the boy. he couldn’t have been too much older than she was.

lando shook his head, a few errant curls falling from his shaggy hair and over his eyebrows, and something about the way he shook his head to clear the curls from his eyes had her mouth watering. she wondered briefly what it would be like to kiss him.

“i saw a bit of it when we were bringing everything in. it’s a maze of service tunnels and secret doors. i actually got myself locked in a cellar.” lando laughed, and the butterflies erupted in her stomach, a giddy feeling spreading through her bones. “and that’s why ria thought it would be a good idea to cordon off most of the house. so that idiots like me didn’t get themselves locked in anywhere they couldn’t get out of.”

she raised an eyebrow, almost questioning exaclty how th man in front of her got himself locked in a cellar before she thought better of it. “so you know where all these secret passageways are?”

lando wagged his eyebrows. “is that something you’re into?”

“why do you have to say it like that?” she giggled, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth when she remembered how she usually looked when she laughed. “you make it sound weird. like a sex thing.”

“well, it’s not a sex thing,” lando reassured, stepping off the bench like he was dismounting a noble steed. “unless you want it to be? I’d be down to, uh, shiver your timbers in a secret hidden alcove.”

“not if you make bad pirate puns.” she rolled her eyes, taking landos extended hand in hers and allowing him to help her up. “but we can see where the night takes us.”

she shouldn’t have said that. why did she say that? would he think she was propositioning him?

the wind was breezy on her bare legs as lando led her across the moonlit backyard, pushing open the same door they had just come through. the family photos on the wall were old and faded, frames of orange gold around them. lando ushered her up the stairs, clouds of dust flying off the carpet as they ascended. the further up the stairs they moved, the mustier it smelled.

lando stopped her on the landing, hardwood covered in a threadbare oriental carpet, everything covered in a fine layer of dust, save for the cracked mirror.

"press on the edges of the fame, but stand back." lando suggested. "max brushed up against it earlier and almost got flung off the landing. it's a service entrance door."

"sick." she mumbled, pressing her slender fingers along the filigree gold frame. "just like this? do you remember where the latch was?"

"if i did, i'd have opened the door myself." he shrugged.

all at once, she felt the mirror give way under her hand, a clicking sound barely audible as the door began to move. lando reached for her hand, gently pulling her out of the line of fire.

"that was fucking awesome." she giggled, pulling her phone out of her purse and switching on the flashlight. "you know we need to go in there now, right?"

"just as long as you can get us back out." lando pleaded. "i don't want to die in a service tunnel."

she lead the way up the stone staircase, her flashlight illuminating the pounds of dust and cobwebs (as well as the occasional lump that might have been a dead rat, but she actually didn't want to know).

"if i see any big ass spiders in here, killing them is your job." she tried to keep her voice steady, but the thought of a massive spider crawling up her leg was not her idea of a good time. in fact, it would likely send her into hysterics.

they reached the top of the winding staircase, coming to rest in front of a large wooden door with a wrought iron knocker shaped like medusa's head. the hinges were slightly rusted, and it was clear that nobody had come up here for a while.

until them, of course, their footsteps clearly imprinted in the dusty stairs below.

"well, it would be a shame to turn back now." lando remarked, reaching for the door handle. it was stiff, but the room was unlocked.

she followed lando inside, reaching blindly for the old dial lightswitch on the wall. the room flickered to life, lit by two dull bulbs hanging from the ceiling.

a large bookshelf took up one wall, a dust and dirt caked window overlooking the grounds on another, equipped with a window seat for reading. a small crosley record player sat on a teak stand, pressed up against a wall painted an off cinnamon color. she walked to the milk crates stacked neatly next to the the player, flipping through well-worn vinyls.

"whoever was last up here was really into seventies disco. we've got abba, donna summer, elton john, blondie, hot chocolate, earth wind and fire." she mused, pulling a blondie album out of the basket. "although i always considered blondie to be more new wave than anything."

lando reached over her, his chest just faintly burshing up against her arm, body heat causing her skin to flush as he grabbed an elton john record from the basket.

"elton john? now this guy wrote some great stuff."

"nothing in this basket is organized in any way! they've got wild cherry at the front with earth, wind and fire, but blondie is pushed way to the back with chaka khan and ike and tina. no rhyme or reason! i have half a mind to rearrange it myself."

the record player crackled to life, the sound coming out of two old wooden marley speakers, a sound system that hadn't been updated in a while but still came through crisp as they day it was put together. elton john and kiki dee's duetting voices began to fill the room, and lando extended a hand.

"can i have this dance, my fair maiden?"

she smiled, leaning against the stack of milk crates. "i dunno. ladies like me don't dance with scoundrels like you."

"but a scoundrel like me will show you a damn good time. if you let me, of course."

giggling, she grabbed his hand, allowing the young man to twirl her in a circle before dipping her towards the floor, her hair dusting the shag carpet. soon, their laughter was louder than the stereo itself.

out of breath, their gleeful dance began to slow. they stood in the middle of the dimly lit room, 'don't go breaking my heart' playing lowly in the background, the thumping bass from the ballroom travelling upstairs as lando leaned in.

the craned her face up, pressing on to her tip toes to meet him halfway, brushing her lips against his before her pulled her in for more, his strong arms like a safety net around her body, ready to catch her if her knees buckled (which she was almost sure they would).

"i've gotta hand it to ya, captain. you're one smooth operator." she giggled, kissing him again. "i wonder what else you can do with that tongue?"

"come dock in my port, and you'll find out."

she burst out laughing, dropping her arms to playfully smack him in the chest. "that was your worst pick up line yet!"

"really? i've got a ton more, read up for this very occasion. what else have i got? there's 'i sure would like to pillage your booty', but that one sounds a little sleazy, 'not only do i have a ship, but it's a long one."

"oh my god, you need to stop. they're all as bad as the one that came before." she was laughing so hard there were tears in the corners of her eye. he thought he was so suave, rattling off stupid pickup lines while he leaned against milk crates of vinyl pressings.

and the stupid thing was, it was working.

tired of listening to him ramble, she stalked over to him, grabbing his leather vest and pulling him in for another kiss.

TAGS: @userlando @magnummagnussen @diorleclerc @scuderiamh @lorarri @cartierre @clemswrld @httpiastri @love4lando @silversainz @silverstonesainz @scuderiasundays

[savkirschtein]

AOT character & their personal fashion styles

characters : Eren Jaeger, Mikasa Ackerman, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirschtein, Connie Springer, Sasha Braus, Marco Bodt

warning: all of these are just purely based off of my personal insight and views of the characters and how i think they’d dress today

🪩🥡🪐🎸🎧

Eren Jaeger: 🎱🌪️🩻⛓️

based off of season 4 Eren

i picture Eren in todays world really rocking with a minimalist street style

he’s all for comfort and breathability in his clothing and his style reflects that

a closet full of loose fitting boxy t-shirts

LOVES the cold months so he can layer his hoodies and leather jackets

while also sporting the slutty tightly fitted black shirt grey sweat pant combo every now and then

maybe even just walking out his apartment with a wife pleaser and baggy jeans on as a fit alone

all paired with sneakers, small silver hoops, and a chain of some sort

Mikasa Ackerman: 🍒💿📷🃏

we all know for a fact that Mikasa can DRESS

she just has an eye for fashion and has a unique style of her own

one that isn’t over the top, in terms of being a spectacle, but just well put together and tailored to HER. a girl you 110% give a second glance

she is a girlie who LOVES wearing any skirt whether it be long, midi, mini or knee length she LOVES them

most of her pieces are pretty free flowing with lots of different silhouettes

absolutely loves a good leather boot, pair of mary janes, or platform loafers

she literally could wear a trash bag and make it look like it’s the next trend

and has a huge collection of baggus

Armin Arlert: 🎧📘🍵☁️

Armin will literally never be free of the soft light academia aesthetic

the cable knit sweaters, soft cardigans, and sweater vests will forever have a hold on him

but what college boy Armin loves more than anything is a good quarter zip or quarter button up

or a nice casual white and blue striped button up

almost all of his clothing is soft and warm materials

definitely withholds the cute boy in the library title

Jean Kirschtein: 🪐👁️‍🗨️⚡️🌉

will live and die on the hill that Jean is a Carthartt guy

his look is a casual-relaxed but clean one

he’s all for clothing that is durable and will last him forever

Jean’s style is honestly super basic but NOT boring

although Jean’s style isn’t one that is made to make it hard to look away from its one that really just compliments him well

loves a good hefty Dickies or Carthartt jacket, basic white t-shirt, or a loose button up over a tank top

while wearing a variety of rings, with small hoops and a chain

his clothes compliment his strongly built and lengthy body well, which is why although they are basic, it isn’t boring

Connie Springer: 🎧💽☄️🩻

Connie is a literal fashionista

he probably is tiktok famous for his fit check videos and adventures at the thrift stores

the street style aesthetic was MADE for Connie

knows how to put pieces that may not look ideal together into a cohesive fit

LOVES JORTS and swears he made them trendy again

and wearing jerseys of teams he has no clue of , but it’s for the fit so who cares

Sasha Braus: 🍰🪩🗽🧸

the DEFINITION of downtown girl or coming of age movie in a city aesthetic

Sasha lives for the nostalgia of 90s pieces and it shows in her clothing

comfort is also a huge factor that plays into Sasha’s outfits

color is another component that makes Sasha’s outfits HER outfits

LOVES a good brown leather jacket

Sasha honestly though has a hard time sticking to just ONE specific style and will wear whatever feels good for her

Marco Bodt: 🍙🪴♠️🍊

Marco is a soft boy at heart but he’s traded in the traditional sweaters vests for hardy collared jackets

he absolutely LOVES PLAID

and loves layering his button ups with his worn out thrifted jackets

has a more warm palette in terms of colors and leans more towards earthy tones

super casual in his shoes though sticking to good tried and true high top converse, sambas, or loafers if he's feeling fancy

[thinkingaboutjaedyn]

the kitty surprise [t.rodman x reader]

prompt: trinity sneaks you two's cat to practice without you knowing.

author notes: this is probably trash 💔💔 not too much on me, writing is hurting my brain these days. enjoy it!

"why can't i?" trinity whines as she leans against the counter. the little white furry body of you two's cat, coco, in her hands. the woman was really trying to convince you to let her bring coco to practice today which was out of the question.

"where would she even be while we practice? what if she runs out onto the field and gets hurt? what if she scratches someone?"

"okay, okay. i get it, god," trinity says. stopping you from listing off more reasons on to why coco can't come along. "but you know she gets lonely, babe," your girlfriend pouts at you. moving closer to you as she holds up coco, "just look at this cute face."

the sight of coco and trinity's faces next to each other is an adorable sight, but not adorable enough for you to say yes. you giggle before placing a kiss on trinity's forehead than the cat beside her.

"she will be fine. now put her down and go get your bag so we can go," you move away from them. going off somewhere in the house to find your missing cleats. meanwhile trinity was hatching up a plan that she knew you would hate, but coco would love (she hopes).

the american player grabs some of the white cat's snacks before going over to where her bag was on the couch. "you just have to stay in here for like 20 minutes tops, okay, baby?" trinity baby talks to the cat. putting the bag of cat snacks open in her bag with coco following after. she worries all of the soccer items in the bag might make it uncomfortable for her furry baby, so quickly she grabs one of you two's small blankets that could hardly fit you both and stuff it inside. coco seemed to be just alright with this arrangement. snuggling up to the blanket before dozing off.

just as you come back into the living room, cleats in hand, trinity zips up her bag enough that you wouldn't be able to tell a cat was in there on the first glance.

"alright, let's go, babe," you say. moving towards the front door with trinity right behind you until you stop with your hand on the door knob. "forgot to say bye to coco," you try to move to go over to her cat tree in the dining room, but trinity stops you.

she speaks loudly (so that you can't hear how coco meows at the sound of her name being called) as she says, "uh.. actually she's.. shitting! yeah she's shitting and you know how long she takes." you look at her in confusion but just shrug it off since y'all don't have enough time to worry about that right now.

"whatever. let's go," and off you two went to practice.

now getting coco to practice wasn't that hard. the cat slept the time away in the backseat of the car while trinity and you sang along to your playlist. soon enough y'all came to the training facilities for the washington spirit. "you two are late!" andi shouts, leaving from her own car.

"hypocrite!" you shout back. giggling once andi puts up the middle finger at you. meanwhile trinity was trying to cover up the fact she was having a crisis; how was she supposed to sneak coco in? and where would she go? those two questions bounce around the american player's head as she takes your and hers bag out of the car. sticking her tongue out at you when you try to grab yours. "nope. princesses don't carry their own bags," trinity says.

you roll your eyes, hiding the bashful smile on your lips. you check the time on your phone before shaking your head, "whatever. we are already ten minutes late." trinity happily follows along after you. just grateful that you haven't noticed the little white furball that's trying to stick her head out of trinity's bag.

the moment you two get into the locker room you separate. you go off to change while trinity acts like she's trying to change. instead she was looking in her bag, making sure coco was okay. with you two being late the rest of the team was out of the locker room so trinity didn't have to do any explaining just yet.

"i'm going to let you out, okay? just stay right here and nobody's going to know," the american player whispers to coco. the cat just meows as she looks up at her owner. trinity gives her a few pets before letting her out of the bag. pulling out the blanket as well so it can cover the space in her cubby. "stay, okay?" she gives coco a kiss before pulling away. the white cat just lazily lays there. enjoying the warmth of the blanket combined with being in a space that smells like one of her favorite people. trinity closes the door of her cubby the moment ashley walks in.

"coach says hurry up or we are all running suicides," ashley says. those words got trinity to quickly change and head out of the locker room.

everything was going well and exactly to plan until break. trinity was laying her head on your legs as you two catch your breath. coach still made you two do suicides despite trinity coming out as fast as possible.

"i can't wait to go up against-" before you can even finish your sentence, someone was yelling out from the locker room.

"it's a cat in here!" one of the spirit players shouts. everyone else out on the practice field looks around in confusion, but you already knew who the culprit was. "babe-" you look down at trinity whose face is ridden with panic. she sits up before you can even finish your sentence.

"i swear i can explain!" trinity doesn't even have a chance to as coco runs out of the building onto the field. immediately she clings onto you. the annoyance in you was rising as you realize trinity didn't listen to you, but that wasn't even the focus at the moment with coco in your arms. all of your other teammates came over to you and trinity. good thing coach wasn't anywhere near here.

"well.." andi says as she looks at the white cat in your arms. trinity was waiting for the yelling or something about telling coach, but it was none of that. instead your teammates just cooed at how cute coco is. fighting over who gets to hold her first.

that doesn't mean you aren't annoyed still, but you can't deal with that with everyone crowding around trinity and you, so you leave that for later.

coco was absolutely spoiled at practice. the spirit coach even said she can come back some days; basically as an unofficial emotional support animal for the team. everyone was on board with that. the day went better than you thought it would, but that doesn't mean trinity wasn't about to get it.

"i can't believe you brought her along without asking me," you say. trinity lets out a groan hearing your words. she already knew you would get on her later about her lil cat smuggle, but still. the cat in question is happily sleeping in trin's arms. tired from a full day of playing around.

"she gets lonely, babe. i explained that to you," trinity reasons.

"she's a cat!"

"a cat who gets lonely! like she has separation anxiety i swear"

"she does not!" you roll your eyes at trinity's childishness. this woman is twenty one and still pulls shenanigans like this. she just falls silent as she pouts. the car falls silent as you stop talking as well. when you two reach your apartment you sigh and look over at trinity after parking.

"i'm not mad, so.. whatever just tell me next time," you say. trinity perks up before leaning over slightly for a kiss. you give her what she wants, smiling once you pull away. "but you're cleaning her litter box today since you wanted to sneak her along," you give her a cheeky smile as she groans.

"but babe!"

© thinkingaboutjaedyn

[blueicequeen19]

Late

Warnings: horny dad JJ - unprotected sex

I throw the last of the breakfast leftovers in the trash just as JJ walks in from taking the kids to the bus. I pause as I look at him, seeing that familiar glint in his eye along with a knowing smirk as he slips his shoes off then his shirt.

"No. I am late." I say firmly, rinsing out the sink. JJ comes up behind me, his erection prominent against my ass through his cargo shorts.

"What's five more minutes?" JJ murmurs seductively, untying my scrub pants.

"No, no, no! Absolutely not." I shake my head, shutting the water off and reaching for a towel to dry my hands. His warm hand slides into the waistband of my scrubs, his fingers brushing over my clit through my panties. A zing of pleasure shoots through me but I ignore it even as I feel myself grow wet.

"Come one, mama. I know you want it." JJ continues to stroke my clit, making my body tighten with need. I grip the edge of the sink until my knuckles are white, trying to resist.

"We don't have time, JJ!" I insist, attempting to free his hand but he doesn't budge, running his nose along my neck. My body erupts in goosebumps and I shudder.

"I don't need long. I'm a quick shot." I snort, rolling my eyes just as his hand slips in my panties.

"You're going to get me fired." I hiss, his skilled fingers sliding through my slit and gathering my wetness before massaging my clit. My knees start to shake with my resistance.

"Good. I'd rather have access to you at all hours of the day." JJ's tongue meets the side of my neck and I fight to keep my eyes open, his teasing becoming too much.

"We already have four kids. We don't need a soccer team." I growl, trying to maintain my composure.

"We'll get a bus. I know a guy." He nibbles my ear, careful of my earrings, as his hand dips lower, circling my entrance but never penetrating as his palm presses to my clit.

"JJ, please." I rasp, trying to clamp my legs shut but it doesn't stop him. I was so weak when it came to him. If I really wanted him to stop, he would. And he knew that.

"Please, what? Do you want me to stop? I thought you were trying to tell me no?" He whispers in my ear, moving his fingers back to my clit. I was going to have to change my panties. "Do you want my fingers in your pussy?" His voice is lower, thick with lust and I whimper.

"I'm late, baby." I mumble, pressing my ass into the rod in his shorts without thinking. My body knew what it needed.

"What's five more minutes?" He dips the tip of one finger inside me and my knees threaten to buckle.

"No, I'm late. Like my period is late." My heart sinks as I wait for his reaction but he never gives one. I feel him smirk against my neck before he kisses my racing pulse point, still holding the tip of his finger inside me.

"We better buy that bus then."

"JJ Maybank." I scold but there's no anger even as I sigh with frustration. "Five kids. Five." He suddenly pulls away and I almost whimper from the loss but then he's yanking my pants and panties down my legs and sitting me on the counter. I hear the clink of his belt and his shorts end up around his ankles.

This is why I tried to keep my back to him. Once I looked at him, from that handsome face, the dimple in his cheek, those piercing blue eyes and right down to what bobbed between his legs, I knew I'd cave.

"We're already out numbered. What's one more?" His eyes shimmer with happiness and I shake my head, fighting back tears as he pulls me to the edge of the counter.

"JJ." I groan, watching as he runs his cock up and down my soaked slit.

"We need another girl. Our daughter is out numbered." He slaps my clit with the head of his dick and I gasp, my body jerking.

"Five kids." I pant, on the edge of insanity as he keeps teasing me.

"I guess this means I don't have to pull out for the next 8-9 months." He smirks, glancing at me under the hair hanging in his eyes and I huff a laugh.

"Your pull out game is weak. How do you think we got here?" I reach for his dick to force it inside me but he swats my hand away then slaps my clit. I bite my bottom lip, glaring at him.

"You know my favorite pie is creampie." He leans in for a kiss but I stick my chin out, not letting him. He bites me playfully, not haulting his teasing with his cock.

"What's wrong baby? Is there something you want?" He murmurs, trailing his lips down my throat and I shudder, my nails biting into his shoulders. My clit was throbbing painfully and my heart was racing. I was so horny I could die.

"You tease me then expect me to beg?" I bite out, turning my head when he leans in for another kiss. He fists the back of my hair, yanking my hair free from the hair tie and making his own makeshift ponytail. JJ yanks me forward, keeping us nose to nose. I pull my lips back between my teeth as he eyes them hungrily. He didn't like being denied kisses. The man's love language was physical touch.

"Beg or I'll leave you like this." JJ growls, the head of his cock meeting my entrance and my hips buck. A whimper escapes me and I plead with my eyes.

"You wouldn't." I whisper breathlessly. I could hardly think with the head just barely inside me.

"I would. Then you'd spend all day at work, come home and have to wait until all the kids are in bed and hope none of them decide they want to sleep with us. Because then you wouldn't get any relief until tomorrow. Maybe even this weekend." His threat hangs over me and I growl in frustration. "Beg and I'll give you what you want." His voice lowers to a whisper, his mouth trailing over my cheek and to my ear, giving me chills.

"I'll fuck you hard and fast, just how you like. I'll make sure you can hardly walk today." I clench around his tip and he feels it, growling low in his throat. I couldn't take it.

"Please, JJ. I need it. I need to feel you. Please, fuck me." The words end on a moan as he pushes in slowly, filling me up nice and deep with a satisfied smirk. My pussy contracts around him, my body tightening and sucking him in as tingles race down my spine and to my toes. JJ doesn't release his grip on my hair as he brings my lips to his as he starts to fuck me. I'm already on the edge, my body already bursting at the seams from his teasing. I was so sensitive and so close that tears filled my eyes. I suck his tongue into my mouth and he moans loudly, signaling my release.

I scream against his lips, digging my nails into his back as the wave crashes into me so hard I can't breathe as it drags me down. One arm wraps around my waist, holding me in place as he fucks me harder and harder, throwing me into another orgasm before I can recover from the first.

"JJ, oh god, JJ." I cry out, burying my face against his shoulder and biting down. He grunts, shoving my legs further apart as he fucks me.

"Yes, yes, yes." I chant, another wave hitting me and stealing the air from my lungs. My entire body tightens and grows stiff as I cum and I feel the moment he reaches his own release. His movements grow harsh and sloppy for a moment before warmth gushes between my legs then he slows, all but collapsing against me with a deep groan. We cling to each other as we fight to catch our breath, his cock still hard and buried inside me. He was insatiable.

"Baby number six, huh?" He laughs, pulling back enough to look down at the mess between my thighs.

"That's not how that works genius." I can't help but laugh, pushing at his chest even as he pulls me in for another kiss. I wrap my arms and legs aruond him, clinging to him as we make out like teenagers. He finally breaks the kiss, pulling away with a charming smile.

"Come on, you're late for work. Stop coming on to me." I roll my eyes to the ceiling.

He was something else if not perfect.

[seravphs]

confectionery

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU

Suna becomes a regular at your maid cafe - a regular thorn in your side, that is. 

wc — 1.4k

tags — fluff, reader works at a maid cafe 

next: omakase | shoujo series masterlist

“Yes, master,” you practically bite out the words.

Suna raises an eyebrow at you. “Aren’t you missing something?”

Ugh. This man is insufferable. With a pained smile, you wince through the last part of your mandatory response to orders. “Nya! One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait coming right up!” 

In the back room, you drop to your knees, cradling your head in your hands now that you're safely hidden from the eyes of your customers. 

You have to do it. 

You have to kill this man. 

There’s no way you can keep serving him these ridiculous orders. You’re going to die of embarrassment. If it’s him or you, you’re going to choose yourself. 

Working at a maid cafe only started because of your best friend. She convinced you to do it with her, only to quit a few weeks in. You had stayed, against your better judgement. 

“Please,” you remember her begging, tugging on your hand beseechingly. “The pay is so good! Just think about it - 20 dollars an hour?”

To a high schooler, that was a crazy amount of money. Both of you gasped when you saw the flyer, imagining everything you could do with that kind of cash. 

“But if I saw someone I knew, I’d die of embarrassment,” you remind her. Sometimes it feels like it falls to you to be the rational one of the pair of you. She dreams and you keep her grounded. 

“No one will see! Who comes to this part of town anyways?”

Rintarou Suna does, as you find out one day when you’re taking out the trash. 

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, making you yelp. You spin around, ready to scream for your manager. You can never be too careful as a young girl flouncing around these streets in a maid dress. 

“I thought it was you,” he says, wide-eyed and clearly stunned. 

You drop the trash in the bin and sprint away from him, only to hear the distinct sounds of footsteps after you. You’ve seen Suna play for your school’s volleyball team. There’s no way you’re out running him. 

Luckily, the cafe is just ahead. 

It might be embarrassing for you to be caught in your black and white frilly lace and poufs of tulle, but it’s just as embarrassing for Suna to be caught entering. He’s one of the star athletes on your school’s incredibly strong volleyball team - he can get any girl he wants. Why would he come in here?

Suna crashes through the open door a split second later, interrupting your monologue. 

“Hi,” he says, not even breathing hard. “Table for one, please. Oh, and I want her.”

You should’ve known that thinking rationally would never apply to men who have no social awareness. Suna simply does not care. More than anything, that lack of interest is what makes him such an unmanageable beast.

“What do you want?” You whisper furiously, under your breath. It’s still not low enough for your manager to ignore, though, and she shoots you a reprimanding look over the counter. “Master,” you tack on to the end of your sentence. 

“I think I’ll start with a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait,” he says with a smile. “With the add on.”

You stare him down. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“If you share my parfait with me, I’ll tell you.” 

“One Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait. That’s all?”

Sharing dessert with Suna in an inappropriately adorable cafe feels much too close to a date for your liking. The parfait is a frothy work of art. It’s a monstrosity of a confectionery, starting with a base of hand crumbled crackers. Each layer alternates between warm biscuit, sweet cream, or fruity jam, all topped with a swirl of whipped frosting and slices of fruit.

To be honest, you didn’t think it would be to Suna’s taste. You hate to judge by appearance, but Suna doesn’t strike you as someone who would like dessert. He’s not a bad boy exactly, not in the conventional sense, but he’s not the target audience for this cafe, either. His nonchalance and blank expression makes him feel unapproachably cool. 

The underclassmen look up to him. You see them crowd outside your classroom during break, waiting for the chance to talk to him. Part of the legend is his style. He rolls into class looking effortlessly tousled, his jacket hanging askew on his shoulders. He only has one piercing in his left ear. You heard a rumor that he let Osamu pierce it for him at an away game, only to get benched by Captain Kita as punishment. 

Suna wears mostly black. He blasts rap on the way to school in his headphones. He likes sneakers and he’ll wait on a queue for hours at a pop-up just to snag his dream pair. When he smiles, one side of his mouth lifts higher than the other. He wears rings that his younger sister makes for him. Sometimes he comes to school with colorful butterfly clips in his hair to hold his bangs back if he hasn’t gotten a haircut in time. You know that’s his sister’s work, too. 

You hadn’t realized you knew so much about Suna. You hadn’t realized you were looking. 

His spoon clinks against yours gently. 

“You can eat, you know.”

Mechanically, your spoon starts to move. As soon as the tartness of the berry hits your tongue, it’s immediately followed by the sweetness of the cream. Your eyes widen. Despite working here for a while now, you’ve never had one of the desserts. It’s surprisingly good. 

“Right?” Suna chuckles. 

Because he’s usually quiet, eating and talking with Suna feels strange at first. You’re not used to having his undivided attention on you. The ice breaks as soon as you notice the way his hair is sticking up in the back, like a duck’s tail. When you point out his messy head, he shrugs and makes no move to fix it. 

“Brushing my hair is a pain,” he says. 

It makes you giggle. It might be lazy, but it’s strangely charming. Before you know it, Suna’s drawn you in with his insouciant smiles and effortless ability to lead a conversation. It’s not that he’s naturally charismatic, but something about the way he listens and responds has you preening under his attention. 

You’re almost upset when he calls for the check. He seems to notice.

“I’ll be back!” He calls as he leaves. 

“Don’t-“ 

He’s already gone. 

You realized he never told you why he came. 

Most teenage boys would be embarrassed to make a maid cafe their normal hang out spot, but Suna comes on the dot every single day. Your coworkers have taken to referring to a table in your section as Suna’s table. He always orders the Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, and he always makes you draw a little chocolate heart on it. 

You love your coworkers, you really do. You don’t think you would’ve worked here as long as you have if they didn’t feel like family to you, but sometimes older sisters can be annoying. 

Case in point: Shizuka, one of the older maids, just ruined a con you’ve been running on Suna for a long time. 

“You’re not doing it right,” Shizuka scolds you. “You forgot the ‘nya!’”

You flinch. 

Suna’s eyes widen. “Oh? Tell me more.” 

“When you order a Kitty Kitty Paw Parfait, we’re supposed to go ‘Nya! Of course, master!’” 

Suna pins you underneath an uncompromising stare. “Do you know how many of these I’ve ordered? You owe me a lot of ‘Nyas.’”

“Suna,” you say pleadingly, your face burning with mortification. 

He relents, a little. Something about your expression makes him melt, his eyes softening a minuscule amount. It’s barely noticeable, but it’s there. “Fine,” he smiles. “You can just start now.”

The minute you finish your humiliating speech, you vow revenge on Suna, but he just laughs. It’s too easy to get used to him. If you don’t actively remind yourself that he is your classmate, that you don’t actually know him that well, and that you first spoke to him just this week, it would all be too easy to feel like you’re friends. 

That’s why you have to draw a line in the sand before he can get even closer. You’re scared to find out how this ends. You’d rather cut him out of your life now. This is probably a game for Suna, but for you it’s something else.

It’s hard to remember all of that when he waits until the end of your shift to walk you home. He’s standing by the door, making small talk with your manager, who adores him. 

“Ready to go?” 

When you nod, he grabs your bag from you. The way he acts is so straightforward. You wouldn’t describe Suna as confident, but rather flexible. He takes everything that happens as it comes, and never lets it break his stride. Things are easy for him because he chooses to let them be. When he walks, his hand bumps yours once, twice. 

It’s easy. The hands. The act of being with him. 

It’s not a long walk home, but you wish it was. Fifteen minutes isn’t enough time for you to work up the courage to tell him what you need to say. Thankfully, he breaks the silence first. 

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s up?” 

“You need to stop coming,” you tell him, hating the words even as they come out of your mouth. 

He stops, forcing you to stop with him. “Why? Are you actually mad?” 

You wish you could say yes, but you can’t. You shake your head, praying Suna can just take the hint and leave you alone. 

He blinks at you. “Then no can do, ma’am.” 

“Why do you even come?” You hope his answer can push you to take the step you need, but it only cements him further in your heart. 

He smiles at you in a way you’ve come to associate with Suna, sweet and uncomplicated. “I just like cute things.” 

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Crimson Fangs Sing Me Lullabies

PAIRING: David 'Hesh' Walker x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Ten years is a long time to be alone.

WORD COUNT: 18.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, gore, canon typical violence, stitches & needles, death, fluff, puppy love type stuff, mutual pining, Hesh being adorable, Ghosts timeline

A/N: Back to my roots with 30+ page works.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He vividly remembered the moment Riley had alerted him on that rainy Tuesday afternoon. It was when the sky was pelting against his soaked beanie and the abandoned houses of South California were utterly silent—as still as the heart in his breast. The ground under his feet was soft, grass giving way to slopping mud that caked up to his ankles in thick mounds of flooded earth.  

Hesh had only been out for a swift survey of the area, taking Riley for backup as Logan stayed at camp to pack and hide any trace of two individuals from inside Fort Santa Monica snooping around. Seeing as Federation Soldiers frequented the area, any piece of them that was left in No Man’s Land was subject to identification. Nothing from a broken branch or a boot track could be out of order; certainly not when the two brothers were here to scout possible weak points in enemy territory. Try and find ways to slip in a fire team—give ‘em all a good scare and wipe another point off the map. 

But Riley was along because not only was he Hesh’s responsibility, but the German Shepherd’s instincts were far superior than a soldier’s ever could be. For only 14 months, the dog was making quite the name for himself around the Fort.

A chilled wind whips down the street, the overgrown road filled with rusting cars and trash which flutters in retaliation of being disturbed all across the asphalt. Rain comes down sideways in great roars. Whatever the dog had honed in on, it was loud enough to be heard over the noise of nature.

“Riley,” Hesh calls, calm and collected, to the animal that was intently staring at a large home; hackles tense and tail pointed high. Blue was the color, hiding peeling white trim behind suffocating ivy. A large portion of the left side was ripped away to show its insides like a dead deer would, which had most likely happened when the earthquakes had been rampant during the first few years after ODIN was fired. Tectonic plates shifting and the like. Green eyes narrow. “Go on boy, search.”  

If there were Federation Soldiers this close to camp then it needed to be taken care of—quickly and quietly. No time to get Logan. 

Sharp ears perk and the lithe dog shifts its haunches, raised neck fur accented by a low growl. Paws pad over the ground and twin footfalls follow swiftly after, the body of a Honey Badger Assault Rifle pointed down but ready to aim at a moment's notice.

But nothing could have prepared Hesh for what he found that day. 

—

You press to the oozing wound with a futile hope that it would stop gushing, breathing so loud it can be heard over the deluge outside this shitty excuse of a shelter. Your arm was splattering blood all over the damaged hardwood of the first house you could stumble into, feet flinching back until your spine hits a dresser in the upstairs bedroom. 

Dust lives on every surface; flies through the air as you string curses under your breath with stuttering sobs. You’d hoped that there was a medical kit stashed away here somewhere—something to scavenge that could fix the knife slice that was making you dizzy. 

T…there was just too much blood.

But after the loud slamming of cupboards and the destruction of more than a few rusty door hinges, it hit you like a bullet to the chest as your clothes stuck to you like a second skin. Everything had been picked over. 

No medicine in the bathrooms, no rags in the kitchen, and no hope of bottled water to clean the wound out. Nothing. 

“No, no, no.” You force the black dots away from your eyes, vision blurry with tears as you press harder to the gash. It squelches and more scarlet hits the floor. “It can’t end like this. Not like this.” 

All that you had were the clothes on your back and the sparse materials in your backpack that amounted to an empty water skin, a blanket, and the pages of an old book. 

Blood pooled on the ground, and you realized far later that the only reason you had heard the noise downstairs was because of the steadying way you had bitten your lip; a sob cut short. Your body stilled like you were caught in a bear trap. 

It had been a soft whistle, barely heard over the sheets of rain hitting the broken roof. Water lightly taps your head in an uneven pattern as it leaks through the frame like an ant tunnel. Blinking as a few more tears are forced down your cheeks, you slowly turn to the door that hangs off one hinge. 

Small brown eyes are already locked onto you.

Its pupils are so tiny you wondered if the German Shepherd was half snake—they seemed almost slitted as you gaped at its presence. The army green vest that was wrapped around its frame only served to make you more afraid. 

Dogs were not your friends. Not in this day and age. Certainly not the ones that belonged to the soldiers that had cut your arm open not an hour earlier in the woods. That’s what they did, then? They sicked a dog on you? 

You swallow down a gulp and stand paralyzed as the beast’s lips curled back; its tail puffing up and wagging with aggression. Your breast filled with the constant drumming of a panicking heart.

“G—” voice small, weak, you try to appease the thing with a forced smile as your brows bunch in. This demon doesn’t even blink. “Good doggy.”

You stumble backward only a single shaky step, and then it lunges. 

The dog runs at you with a gnashing of teeth and a shredding snarl on its lapping tongue. Sharp barks meet your ear-piercing scream as they echo off the termite-eaten walls. Rushing back, you feel saliva splatter against your face; a sharp snapping flash just inches from your nose. Your back slams into the far wall with a resounding crash.

“Riley!” A masculine voice yells out, followed by feet rushing up the creaking stairs, but you don’t even hear it before fuzzy neck fur is gripped in your hands. Paws dig into your stomach. Worse, fangs graze your neck as ears stay stapled to an angular head; bobbing back and forth with intent to rip your flesh out. 

You could smell its damn breath.

Straining, every bit of adrenaline-laced strength builds as a split-second to act takes form. You plant your shaking legs and shove with your shoulders—racing away before the loud thump of the Shepherd’s form hitting the floor is registered. Its vibrating growl of hatred echoes off your brain along with its skidding claws. You stagger quickly into the bathroom and slam the thin wood with a loud yell of fear, finding the rusted lock before flicking it with a floundering grip.

The barrier shakes not a second later with the force of a vehicle as you balk back from it with a horrible fear in your breast.

What would it feel like to be mauled to death? You swallow through a closed throat, seeing the door almost cave with the force behind thrown at it; eyes wide and snapping to the tiny box you’d caged yourself into. Oh, fuck me.

“Riley!” Again that voice, closer. There’s a pause in the attack, but the deep barking continues. Eyes flinching, you shake wildly and notice the under-sink cupboard not a moment later with a prey-like haze over your thoughts. “Easy, boy, easy!”

Stumbling, you whip open the small enclosed area and do what you can to shove yourself into it—legs pressed tight to your chest and grunts falling from your lips as you try and maneuver past pipes. Your arm feels like there are a million knives stabbing one after the other, but you don’t for one second dare to stop what you’re doing. Letting the tiny door shut with a bounce of wood, you get totally swallowed by darkness. 

You realize quickly that the barking has entirely stopped. 

“Shit,” hand going to capture your mouth, your fingers press tightly to hide even the sounds of your ragged breathing, dealing with both the hunched-over nature of your spine and the knowledge of someone outside the door. 

Someone who was probably going to kill you. 

Silence lingers, but before long there’s a commotion of a hand that begins to jimmy the door knob. Your ears twitch, blood draining little by little from your head. 

Don’t open the door. Please, don’t open the door. 

The door is shoved open with a shoulder, a brief grunt echoing off the air as the thing slams to the wall. Soon after, the clatter tells you that it falls off of its rusty hinges along with the muffled curse of annoyance.

Measured footsteps make you stare, wide-eyed, at the tiny crack in the side of the wood ahead of you, light from outside dim but enough for you to notice shadows as they slink past. A sigh.

“Clear.” Weight shifts, and you hear a defining click of a safety. You press on your mouth harder. “What was all the ruckus about, boy? Another raccoon give you the slip?” 

Claws pad over broken tile and you hear a nose twitching as distinctly as you can hear your own pulse in your ears. This man that was talking….he didn’t sound like the normal soldiers you’d encountered. There wasn’t an accent to his American English, in fact, he sounded native to the region. Deep of voice and lax in phonics. 

But you had more pressing matters than a man’s speech pattern. A bark rips through the bathroom, and you hear a soft chuckle as your body spasms. 

“It’s not going to be in the cupboard. C’mon, Bud, we need to get back to Logan. Time’s ticking.” More snarling barks, getting higher in octave. The door rattles as you choke back screams as dog feet scratch with aggression, making the barrier bounce with every punch. “Hey, Riley! Enough!” 

A bulky shadow snatches a limb out, grabbing the handle on the back of the dog’s vest, but it’s a bit too late for that. White fangs capture the jutting edge of the frame and rip it off its holding with a raging of metal and splintered wood. You yell between your fingers and try to force yourself away—to try and disappear into a shattered bit of drywall that groaned as you put weight on it. 

Feet kicking out, the dripping wound on your arm makes you wrench the other hand to grip at it, a vain attempt to protect your weak area at the moment. It burns like you’ve just flayed the skin from your bone, peeling the flesh like a person would do to a raw steak. 

And then the dog is reeled back with a sharp yell, “Riley, stand down!”

At once all barking and drool-dripping snarls come to a halt. Panting, you look out to the half-body of the man and into the dead eyes of Riley—a beast that glares at you despite not being able to as his front legs are held off the ground by his vest similar to a kangaroo. It is like staring into the color of dead earth and waiting for it to swallow you whole. 

You wonder if you can die with a still pounding pulse, or if your soul can dip into the very confines of your intestines until you bleed it out. With black dots at the sides of your vision, as Riley is lowered to the ground and left to stand still, you decide that, yes, that could very well happen. 

There’s a large exhalation of air from the top, not-visible, image of the man and although you don’t want to look away from the small-eyed dog, eyes drift slowly to stare. 

Large toned thighs covered in green and brown camo tucked into muddy boots; straps and holsters that drip water with the subtle shifting of hips. Yet it’s almost immediately that those legs bend as a broad chest comes into view followed by a pale, square face. 

You blink quickly, dispelling tears from your lashes mixing with rainwater as it flows down from your forehead when green eyes meet yours—wide and strangely…curious? Brunette hair is trapped by a beanie, and the beginning of stubble spread out down his cheeks, jaw, and chin. Gray sweatshirt, combat vest, patches…your eyes struggle to take it all in but ultimately the large rifle sitting against his chest paints a clear enough picture, even if this man was completely different from the other soldiers you’d encountered out here. 

Shaking, you curl in tighter and hunch your shoulders, hiding away your arm.

Hesh doesn’t know what to think. 

He looks you over with a blatant expression of shock, Riley still on high alert beside him as one of his knees connects with the cracked floor. Lips slightly parting, the man’s head slightly pulls back, trying to understand what the hell he’s looking at. 

A… civilian? This far out in No Man’s Land? How was that even possible—Federation control was practically assured in this area and they shot on sight. Clearing his throat, Hesh sees your water-wet body jerk back, impulsive fear stuck over your head. He quickly raises his hands, dropping his rifle to let it hang from its strap with a clenching jaw as Riley huffs.

“It’s alright, Ma’am.” He coughs awkwardly, watching you incredibly closely. Still not sure how to handle this. “Erm…” A glance is sent to the far wall, “My name is Lieutenant David Walker with the United States Special Forces, you’re going to have to tell me what you’re doing out here. It’s not safe.” 

Firm, yet you notice the words are also subdued as the tension in the air somewhat lessons—like a mother scolding a child that she doesn’t want to start bawling. Your eyes waft away from him back to Riley, though the knowledge that the man was in the Special Forces was startling. You had thought everyone else was dead, most of all the remnants of the military. 

When did this happen? 

Riley still stands as still as anything, watching with his lips curling every so often. Hesh notices your terrified gaze and commands the dog with an easy comment, “Hey, Riley, away Bud.”

The beast pads off with one last long stare, back into the bedroom where you hear the thud of a fuzzy backside hitting the floor and a canid grunt. Immediately a great sigh exits your mouth, crumpled lungs wheezing. The man’s Adam’s Apple bobs as he lowers his arms, lips peeling into a languid frown when his head tilts.

“Sorry about him,” Hesh says, and your shy gaze stops on his neck. Green eyes narrow on you. “Riley’s trained to flush out Feds—not that good at rolling out the welcome committee. ‘Specially out here. He means well.” 

Your lips stay shut, shifting the bloody mess of your arm closer to you. If he was going to kill you, you think, he would have done it already. 

This Lieutenant David Walker wasn’t wearing the dark coloring of the other soldiers in the forest or the towns—wasn’t wearing the patch of twelve yellow stars set into the black void of a rhombus outlined with red. 

He wasn’t part of the group hunting you down. 

Hesh sighs deeply, sparing more glances around the broken-down house and the beautiful woman hiding away in the bathroom cabinet. Even with all of his burning questions, it wasn’t safe to be here. Logan was expecting him back. 

Itching at the back of his neck, the large man mutters, “Well, I guess you’re just going to have to come with us then.” Hesh wasn’t about to leave you here alone. 

Civilians were meant to be behind the Wall, and however you managed to end up outside, he needed to get you back not only for his own consciousness but because you looked like you needed a good meal and a warm bed. 

How long has this girl been out here? He asks himself internally. 

A gloved hand slowly extends out to you and you level on it with a stiff twitch of your feet, eyes glinting.

“Got yourself pretty much folded in half in there, Ma’am.” Hesh chuckles, trying to put you at ease as you just watch like a deer in headlights. “Can’t be too comfortable, huh? How about I bring you back to camp and I can sift ‘round in my packs—see if I can’t find something for you to eat, yeah?” 

It was like coaxing a wild animal from a cage. A chained fox ready to bite its own leg off for the simple release of freedom that it would bring soon after. Hesh couldn’t blame you, Riley usually had that effect on people. 

The dog wasn’t trained to be a pet, after all. 

At the prospect of food, your ears perked. If this person had food, they had to have bandages as well—medical supplies. You glance quickly down at your arm, seeing how the blood had drenched your abdomen from where it flooded out into the lines of textile and thin your lips. It didn’t look good; if it was left untreated…

Green eyes flutter to stare at where you had briefly peeked at. 

“Shit,” Hesh starts, sucking down a breath. His fingers curl from where they still wait for your hand in his. Looking at you as your heart skips a beat from the concerned comment and the unwavering way he stares. “Riley didn’t get you, did he? Let me take a look.”

David moves closer, head partially going under the counter to carefully touch you on the shoulder, shifting your arm from the top. If it was a simpler time, you would have laughed at the sight of such a built and tall man trying to stick his upper half into such a confined place. 

His fingers dig into your flesh and with a hesitant line on your forehead, you slightly present your cut as he sends you a tiny smile in reassurance. 

He…doesn’t look malicious. Maybe I can… 

You blink away black dots and shiver as fingers close around your wrist. Holding back a gasp, Hesh’s eyes widened at the gushing slice; immediately clocking it as a wound from a large and serrated knife. 

Federation? Many of the others from the recon units come back with similar wounds courtesy of the certain blades that the Feds used. 

Digits go to dig around in his medical pouch as your eyes flutter, seeing the heavy frown on David’s face and the lines on his forehead. Ears twitching at the sound of shifting paws, your body quivers. Green quickly glances up as your hand clenches; making more blood fall out to the wood. 

“He won’t do anything,” Hesh assures you, “not without my order. You just need to focus on me, alright? I’m going to wrap this up to help stop the bleeding.” A roll of bandages escapes his pack, and he gets to work tying off a tourniquet above your elbow. “Can you tell me your name, Doll?” 

Your nerves are alight from the rough scape of his gloves along your skin, but you whisper out your title with a stuttering voice. More hushed than a breeze on a humid summer’s day. Speaking after all that screaming hurt your vocal cords. It confuses you that you aren't more afraid of this man—the hard yet sparking eyes.

Hesh sends a quick glance and smiles. 

“Well, we’ll have you all fixed up soon. Promise.” He decided fairly promptly that it would be counter-intuitive to ask you so many questions in No Man’s Land; he’d wait for all of them to be back in the Fort and his father’s opinion. 

Elias Walker was sure to be intrigued by this.

Flinching when David carefully pours water on the wound to clean it out, more wrappings come after to press the torn edges of the injury close together, white rapidly becoming red. But the bleeding would stop soon, as the tight bite of the tourniquet cuts off the flow and leaves your arm completely numb. 

Hesh licks his lips and releases your hand, moving back to rest on the ends of his feet to let his limbs hang off his knees. Looking you over one last time, the man wonders if you were a scavenger. A drifter, maybe? There was a score around the Wall, but they all got caught eventually. 

But none of them were this far out, this afraid.

“C’mon,” David stands, one hand resting atop the counter and the other still extended into the cabinet for you. “We need to get going so we can make it back before dark. Or until the storm gets worse. I’d hate to catch a cold.” 

You stare and push down your fear, injured hand held to you as the other slowly drifts forward. Hesitating over his expectant palm you bite your lip before letting his grip encompass yours. Firmly, fingers tighten over your skin and you shiver at the prospect of touch. 

As gently as he’s able, Hesh helps you out from your hidey-hole, stabilizing you with a hand to the small of your back as you pop to full height. 

“Easy,” he murmurs, watching you stumble as he holds tight. The dog stands from the bedroom, ears erect, but the Lieutenant doesn’t even look. “Riley, stay.” 

Your eyes purposefully never stray to the canine. 

The grip over yours squeezes before it’s gone, and a part of you blinks at the sudden sweep of coldness that returns to you. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, sliding your vision to the still form at your side as the house creaks and groans; rain followed by a deep rumble of far-off thunder. Hesh’s lips pull up, huffing out a single, dismissive, chuckle yet his heart jumps with pride.

“Don’t worry about it.” The man’s limbs rest on his weapon, loose. “Least I could do for lettin’ Riley scare you like that.” A beanie tilts as his rugged head nods to the doorway. “Follow me, Ma’am.” 

You stare at the back of his head as he slips past you, walking past the broken door. Blinking after, you stuff your hands into your pockets and quickly catch up with a few strides; feeling light-headed from the leaving adrenaline in your blood. Not fully convinced you trusted him, David had the one beneficial factor of being in the American military that made you go along. 

Why would someone impersonate them? It didn’t make sense, and thus, he had to be telling the truth. 

But you really didn’t like being near Riley. 

Tail still stiff, the dog stays on David’s right while you keep to the left, if not slightly behind. Brown eyes glare and rage, and you hunch your shoulders in mute retaliation, fixing the position of your backpack after it was smashed between the wall and your body. 

“So,” Hesh tries to break the tension, carefully going back down the stairs and looking back. You perk. “How long have you been out here, if you don’t mind me asking? Don’t get many civvies in No Man’s Land.” 

His boots thump while your shoes lightly press, descending back to flat ground. 

“I…” You lick your lips, “I don’t know.” Brows peeling back, Riley exits the house first, Hesh pausing for a millisecond before humming leisurely and going after—not without a narrowed look of confusion directed at you first. 

“Alright.” He coincides. Maybe you were just in shock. “No worries.”

No Man’s Land? Silently, you dig into the back of David’s head when he leaves the shelter of the house, getting soaked by rain as nitrogen fills your nostrils. What’s that? 

Feet traveling out through rubble, you side-step wood and drywall, breathing in the outside air as you soon feel the water wet down your head and clothes once more, shivering at the constant slap to your scalp and cheeks. 

Shuffling after David, you see him call above the storm with one hand to his chest, speaking into a radio.

“Logan, I’m coming to you! I’ve got an injured Civvy with me—knife wound. It’ll need stitches.” There’s a murmur from the other end, but you hear none of it above the rain; Riley peels out ahead, taking point with a constant pattern that leaves the dog coming back after a moment or two into a heel position. “Affirm. Hold down the camp until I get back. We’ll need to move ASAP.”

Digging into the collar of your shirt, you stay in Hesh’s footprints, shoes getting even more mud-cased all along the old material as you all turn into the treeline, forsaking the dead neighborhood to go back to its rotting. 

You only send one glance behind before it’s swallowed by bushes and downed logs.

The cover of the branches offers some reprieve from the downpour, but only to a point where you still were left floundering over the rugged terrain while David walked it like a pro. 

Hesh was constantly looking over his shoulder at you—slowing his pace when you got too far behind him and Riley. At your almost frigid shivers, his lungs built in a low sigh. 

“Here,” he says, firmly, and plucks the beanie off his head to wring it out. Water pools to the soggy ground as your legs slow, constantly blinking eyes looking up from the rocks you were currently intent on not tripping over. “Sorry, it’s not much. Logan’s got a spare blanket he can lend you later.” 

Pausing, your fingers inside of your pockets twitch at the outstretched article, lashes fluttering as a raindrop bounces off your nose. Cleaning your throat when Hesh prompts you with a small, “Go on,” and a motion of his hand, you take the offering slowly. 

Slipping it on, you pull the thing far over your ears, hating how your hair feels under it but not willing to take it off once the pounding on your skull ceases. 

“Better?” David asks, tilting his head as his short brunette locks get weighed down to his forehead. 

You nod wordlessly, attempting a small flinching smile in gratitude. Hesh delays his turning feet for a moment, seeing that with a barely-there flush to his pale cheeks. Clearing his throat once more, the Lieutenant clicks his tongue for Riley to continue, and offers you a hand over the rocks. 

Up and over, he helps you all along the way, suddenly not caring about how long it might take to get back to camp.

Walking beside you, you take glances at David, wondering aloud, “Who’s Logan?” 

He smiles, green roving over the terrain and now on even higher alert now that there’s someone else with him for the trip back. Riley sniffs along the badly flattened trail, though still takes time to stare back at you with distrust. 

“My brother,” Hesh pushes his hair back, expelling water like a rag, “Riley and I went out to scout territory while he stayed behind. Erm,” the brunette chuckles and another wave of thunder rolls overhead. “Don’t think too much about it if he’s a bit quiet when you meet. Logan doesn’t talk much.” 

“I won’t mind,” you also chuckle, though yours is more forced; subdued. It was easy to speak to Hesh, even if your arm was pulsing and your heart was rampaging.

The Lieutenant sends you an appreciative side-eye, smiling slightly, “Good. I’d hate for you to think he was being—”

Riley halts with a huff. 

Attention shaping forward, David steps in front of you with a quick foot, and your frozen view of the western cluster of trees is blocked by a broad back. 

“Riley’s got something.” He speaks low, deathly serious. “Keep behind me.”

You suck down stiff oxygen, body weary as you peek over to stare at the dog and his vest as it shifts when he moves. The large white lettering of ‘Beware of Dog’ on the side catches your optics like a knife in the dark. 

Hesh takes slow steps ahead, knowing you’re behind him by the way your breath stutters and brushes the back of his neck. His vision bores into the treeline, peeling back bark like the books of a page, his heart a steady bump in his chest. 

Riley continues to alert, paws shimmying and fur caked in mud as his tail begins to go wild. 

David levels his rifle to the shadows dancing, clicking off the safety with a thumb before his cheek finds the stock, staring through the scope with deep-set brows. The man waits for the beast to engage first. 

With the minutes ticking and the rain drowning everyone, you find every swaying branch and twitching leaf to be as anxiety-inducing as a typhoon; still, Hesh stays unperturbed in front of you. About to open your mouth and utter a confused plea to keep going, Riley suddenly rushes.

Pushing headlong into the treeline growls akin to a demon echoing off the atoms of the air when the puffy tail disappears. There’s a moment of strained silence right after where your legs are itching for you to run, but David stays and so that means you will too. He’s really your only chance for survival at this point.

“C’mon boy,” the brunette mutters, hips shifting weight. 

It’s only when pained screams enter the air that the two of you really tense up, a loud, panicked thing that bounces off your eardrums over and over again. You gasp and take a step back, and that’s when two black-armored individuals burst from the bushes, yelling behind them and pivoting to try and shoot an enraged Riley with blood dripping from his maw.

Hesh dispatches them with only four bullets—two for each as their exposed necks explode into crimson. Snapping your gaze away you swallow tersely, blinking as if to dispel the image from your mind. You had seen people die before, in painful and gruesome ways, but that didn’t mean you had ever gotten used to it. Lowering his gun, Hesh tilts his head at the two Federation soldiers, the third taken out by Riley before he drove the others to him. 

“Good, boy!” David praises, oblivious to your plight, and the dog trots over with a lolling tongue, eyes bright. His gloved hand pats Riley’s side a few times, ruffling the fur atop his head as paws tippy-tap before shifting to look back at you. He double-takes, gaze widening with a frozen smile. 

Green blinks at your nervous expression and your body that had backed up a good five feet with your hands stuffed into your pockets. His petting hand pauses and Riley barks. Hesh watches you flinch at the sound and tenses. 

Awkwardly standing up to his full height, his fingers itch at his stubble.

“I…” David pauses, not sure what to say to you. Shaking his head, the man grunts out, “Camp’s this way, Ma’am.” A finger points down the trail and you nod quickly, still not looking anywhere near the bodies or Riley. Or him, for that matter. 

“Okay.” Sharing a look with the dog at his side, he thinks his lips and pauses before he takes off down the grass, concern and apprehension stuck in his veins. Not knowing why, he begins to feel a bit strained.

You stay well behind him all the way back to Logan, thinking and worrying.

I don’t know this man, you tell yourself, arms wrapped around your middle and beanie heavy atop your scalp. Even if he’s nice—even if he says he’s in the military, I don’t know what he could do. I have to remember that. 

And that damn dog. 

You can’t get its eyes off of you—constantly watching and tense as if you’d bolt and he would get the chance to pounce on you. It didn’t trust you and that sentiment was entirely mutual. Pulling your injured arm closer, the image of flashing fangs is playing in your mind as you and David get closer to a dense cropping of stones and deep foliage; now it was worse. Now Riley had congealed blood dripping off his chin, all fur up to his eyes deep red and stained. Rabid looking. 

He was one minute away from ripping my throat out back in that house. 

You shiver, but not from the cold. If not for the kind way Hesh had wrapped your arm and the promise of further help and food, you’re not entirely sure you wouldn’t try to bolt. 

People haven’t exactly been kind to you out here—not for many years.

Your eyes whip away from Riley and stay on David’s boots until the man pushes through one last bush, holding it back for you as you shuffle past with a silent nod of appreciation. The presence of another man immediately makes itself known when you stare into the remnants of a campsite. 

Grass trampled to form a semi-circle, a stuffed backpack rests against a large boulder and, in the middle of the area, sits a small pit for a fire. The dig-out ground is now flooded over by the rain, creating a concoction of mud and brown water. A large overhang stemming from two gigantic rocks gives a small reprieve, though there’s little room for more than two people, and if the rain slants the other way it would end up being completely useless. 

But the figure standing under it is taking what little cover it offers. Shifting with a similar outfit to David and blinking at you with brown eyes. Quickly, he lowers his gun when Hesh calls out, “Woah, Logan—it’s me!”

Blonde hair lays flat over the brother’s head, and you instantly see the resemblance between the two in the same shape of their jaws; the angle of their twin noses. But Logan did seem to be the younger of the two, though not by more than one or two years. 

David saunters forward, hips swaying, and pats you lightly on the shoulder before looking back to send you a soft smile of reassurance. Water flows off his chin. 

“Now, let's get that arm looked at.” He walks under the overhang and bumps forearms with Logan, who continues to watch you carefully. Riley trots up and the blonde rubs his head when David bends down to grab his backpack. 

You awkwardly shuffle, still out in the rain with a cautious feeling in the back of your chest. If you could peel back your skin, you would see an amalgamation of alarm bells strung up by cords of hesitance. Who was to say these men were any different than the black-clothed ones? Could you know their character based on a simple tourniquet and a soggy beanie? 

Brows tight, your shifting feet slosh through a puddle. Did you have a choice? 

Hesh calls over the rain, peeling out a large medical bag from his pack—the white cross capturing your vision. “C’mere! We need to get that stitched up.”

Sighing deeply, you walk until the rock stops the sky’s tears, fingers twitching in your pockets and feeling quite tired. 

“Logan,” the Lieutenant orders and the blonde takes his eyes from you slowly, his stubbled skin sporting a scar up the right side of his jaw. Riley looks up at him when the pets stop. “Give her your spare blanket, would you?” Green flickers to your arm before they go to your face. “Feelin’ alright about needles, Ma’am? It won’t feel that great, but I promise I know how to stitch a straight line.” 

You watch Logan jumble through his own belongings, shivering and hearing the snap of latex gloves from David’s side. They both worked like a well-oiled machine, with gears and pins moving in stupendous arks of shared understanding. If you were being honest, it almost overwhelmed you when a heavy fabric was dropped over your shoulders. 

Fingers go to keep the blanket over your form as a small protein bar was held loosely in your face from Logan’s hands. Brown eyes blink when you carefully take the item, whispering out a small, “Thank you, Logan.” 

The silent man studies your expression before he nods firmly, backing up and taking Riley with him out into the rain with a whistle to allow you more room. You respond to Hesh as he waves you over with a hand.

“I don’t mind needles,” you admit and David listens, patting the rock beside him on the ground for you to sit on. Doing that, you unwrap your bar and hunch deeper into the blanket. “It’s the blood that bothers me.” 

You get a silent side-eye and a gentle hum in understanding. 

“I’ll be done before you know it,” Hesh offers a twitch of his lips, going to lightly twist your arm so that the stained bandage can be unwrapped and laid to the side. “Then when you’re back in the Fort I can get you home to your family. I’m sure someone’s pretty worried about you right now, huh?” 

Your face scrunches, confusion taking hold as you’re just about to bring the protein bar to your lips. Fort? Family? What was this guy talking about? 

Not noticing your look, Hesh, sets off to work, one thumb caressing your numb forearm as he sews your flesh back together. At some point, you turn away, content to bite your lip at the pain and glare into the stone beside you rather than see the crimson slosh down your arm. David wipes at it every so often, seeing the curved needle slowly bring the ragged ends of skin to a neat line. 

He does his best to move as fast as he’s able, careful not to dig too deep and cause you more stress.

You eat your bar with a ravaging hunger, done with it almost immediately and licking the remnants off of your fingers. Hesh chuckles deeply, but a part of him is concerned at the sight.

You had said you didn’t know how long you’d been out here—how were you getting food? The wildlife? You didn’t seem the type to go hunting; didn’t even carry a gun unless it was in your backpack. David doubted that, though.

“Hell, the only person I’ve seen devour those things like that is Logan.” He comments, cutting off the last suture with the small scissors from the pack. You turn to watch his face, seeing the concentrated lines above his eyebrows and the way his tongue lightly pushes out of the side of his mouth until he licks his lips. “Don’t know how he does it—they’re more bland than his cooking.” 

You huff slightly at that, embarrassment heating your cheeks as the needle stops its up-and-down motion. Hesh finishes up with one last look over, tilting his head to the side. 

“You seem pretty close,” whispering, you glance at the figure in the rain, the yellow ball being tossed absentmindedly to Riley before it’s dropped at Logan’s feet as he walks the perimeter. 

Hesh smiles, “Definitely. Couldn’t imagine my life without him.” Fresh gauze is spread and taped down, new bandages unfurled. “Feeling alright? You’re doing great.” 

Your eyes blink at him, slipping over his handsome features and the way his hand holds you so softly even if he is quite large. The cold didn’t seem to bother him at all. You clear your throat and nod shakily.

“Isn’t the first time I’ve been stitched up.” Muttering out your confession your fingers twitch as David tightly wraps your wound up, securing the end and unwrapping the tourniquet at your elbow when he’s done. 

“Really?” The brunette frowns. “Sorry, that must have been tough.” 

You flex your hand, closing and opening your grip as his own travels to the marks the ruthless tourniquet had made on your skin. Freezing your eyes lay stuck to his fingers as the tips of them brush the indents, imaginary pricks under the skin forming as blood begins to flow properly again. 

Hesh doesn’t know what overcame him to do so, slowly pressing into the flesh with a low grunt stuck in his throat. Maybe it was some ill-placed concern for you—some guilt left over for how Riley had treated you before he had shown up. The fear in your eyes when he had killed those Feds.

But you…he wanted to help you.

Unexplainable actions make your heart thump, blood rushing to your head as your limb shakes at the contact. 

Quickly, green orbs pull far open, realization dawning. Clearing his throat, David swiftly moves his hand back to his knee, not meeting your eyes as a red flush makes everything from his nose to his ears pink. Your lips part at the sight in shock, jaw loosening. 

“Well,” he says loudly, moving back to stand and taking off the latex, “that’s that. You’re all set to go.” 

Without meaning to, a small giggle escapes your mouth as you rest your opposite hand on your arm. If anything that makes Hesh all the more flustered, quickly picking up all of his supplies and zipping up the medical kit with a racing pulse. 

Running a hard hand over the back of his neck, you see David call Riley and Logan back as his cheeks go back to their normal color. Your vision narrows on him, trying to understand this individual like how you could understand the thunder that rips the sky or the blanket over your shoulders. You swipe at the last dredges of rainwater on your nose, seeing the two brothers converse in hushed voices. Riley continues to watch you, shaking off inside the overhang and huffing.

It was quite obvious the dog held a grudge for you shoving him to the ground. Warming glee leaving you, you frown at the canine and shift your eyes to the outside world; the downpour is softer on your eyes than feral brown. 

You only turn back when your name is brought up. 

Hesh stares at you, serious, as Logan goes to swing his pack over his shoulder. “We need to start moving soon. It’s bad enough to be in No Man’s Land but to be this deep in Federation territory is worse. Do you have enough energy to keep going?”  

“I…” your lips stutter, taken aback, “Yeah, I should be alright.” If the terrain was anything like it was getting out of that town, I’m not going to make it a mile. Pulling the blanket tighter to you, you ask, “How far away are we?” 

Wherever they were going, it sounded like a good idea to tag along as long as they were allowing it. 

Hesh shares a stiff glance with Logan. 

“Full day of hard hiking, give or take. Terrain’s changed so much it’s a gamble every time.” Your face blanks, throat closing.

“Okay, sure.” You don’t know when you had come to care whether these men left you behind or not, but Hesh’s caring attitude had struck something in your chest like a drum. 

Now that you had someone to talk to out here, someone to caress your wounds, it felt vile to stake out on your own again. Running from soldiers with yellow stars and black rhombus patches outlined in red. This pair wasn’t so bad, at least from what you knew as of now.

David’s lips tighten, eyes sliding half-closed to narrow on you. Green meets brown, seemingly telepathically communicating in that way only siblings can. 

Hesh nods his head, slapping Logan on the shoulder firmly as he calls Riley to a heel position.

“C’mere, boy, we’re leaving.” The dog lopes over as the brunette stops in front of you with a smirk. A silent Logan huffs a chuckle from his position, shaking his head to himself. You look up in confusion, a slow death seeping into you as a teasing expression makes Hesh’s face shift. His arms cross over his chest.

“How do you feel about piggyback rides, Sweetheart?” 

—

You yelp, gripping tighter around David’s neck as the ground nearly gives way, his handle on your hips increasing. His mouth releases a grunt though he quickly rights himself so he doesn’t send the both of you careening over the edge of this rocky hill.

“Easy,” he huffs, looking behind at you as the slowing rain falls on everyone. A brow raises, puffs of breath escaping Hesh’s mouth as he begins to continue on. “Or you’ll choke me out before we make it back.” 

You cringe and loosen your hold, muttering, “Sorry, David.” 

“Hesh’ is fine,” he laughs, turning back, “Only person that calls me David is my old man. And don’t worry about it.” Eyes twinkle. “There are worse ways to die than being choked by a pretty girl.” 

You heat, sputtering for a minute as the joke registers; glaring at his head below your chin. 

“Well then, I guess you wouldn’t mind if I just yanked you off this cliff? Pretty girl and all.”

The deal had been you would keep up with Logan and Hesh as long as you could, from then on the Lieutenant would so graciously allow himself to be the pack mule while Logan and Riley protected the both of you. In all fairness you had done better than expected—David had called you stubborn and practically forced you onto his back when you started dry-heaving on the side of the trail. 

Over the walk, you had gotten into a habit of softly arguing with the man, Logan sending back amused glances every once and a while. It felt good to speak to people again.

“Hm,” Hesh huffs through his nose, sidestepping a boulder and carefully finding footholds in the ascending ground. Riley barks from the top of the hill as if telling him to hurry up. “Y’know I don’t have an answer for that right now. Would you be throttling me on the way down or no?” 

“Depends,” you deadpan, not looking at the edge that the man walks confidently, shivering but still keeping Logan’s blanket over your shoulders.

Hesh blinks water from his eyes, glancing over his shoulder. “On what?”

“On if I can get to you before Riley chomps my hands off.” A loud bark of laughter springs from his chest, unexpected but pure. It echoes off the cliffs and the trees, and you have to laugh slightly with him. You feel his hold squeeze your thighs, hiking you a bit farther up as he makes it to the top, Logan looks at him with a slightly parted mouth before his gaze slides to you. 

You swore there was a spark of thankfulness in his expression, but he’s turning and whistling for Riley a second later. 

“Shit, that’s a fair point.” Hesh chuckles, and you notice his shiver when the cold wind whips past. 

Cheeks burning, you move your hands making the man under you make a noise of confusion. Ignoring it, you peel at the blanket around you and place it above the both of your heads, blocking out the water even if the fabric was already soaking. You rest your elbows on his shoulders and sigh, looking at your bandaged arm for any blood. 

Dark, yes, but all the red fluid was dried. It was seemingly all good. 

Hesh feels his lips pull in a heart-felt smile, stubbled cheeks gaining a sheen as you hide his head from the rain. He didn’t need you to, of course, but the action came from a place of genuine care. It felt…nice. 

“That’s kind of you, Ma’am. Thanks.” Green peaks slightly up, and you turn away so you don’t meet his eye, cheeks burning.

“Least I could do.” Your mouth mutters. “Thanks for not letting Riley eat me alive…and the stitches.” 

Hesh grunts softly, still smiling. 

“Well, I’m not one to let my dog rip apart civilians. Least of all ones that need help.” He keeps a close gaze on Logan and the canine, watching the treeline and the rustling bushes from the blanket edge. “It’s a good thing I found you when I did—wound like that’s a nasty thing to treat half passed out.” He dares to push, “How’d you get it if you don’t mind tellin’ me?” 

You noticed how he would try to ask unassuming questions in hopes you would be able to explain yourself but in reality, you were just as confused. The military was still functioning? You had no idea, stuck in the same areas for…a long, long, time. 

It made you afraid. How…how many years had passed from when the sky had erupted with fire, beams of pure light slamming into the earth. You try not to dwell on it. 

Holding the blanket edge tighter, you wiggle your chilly nose to push back sniffles and explain to the best of your ability. Hesh had called those men Federation Soldiers, and you had heard of that title before the world had fallen apart like a toy castle under the fist of a child. 

Federation…You speak slowly, thoughtful of your words.

“I was running,” David slows a bit, putting distance between the others as he watches Riley sniff an old rusted bucket stuck in the middle of a Black Sage bush. His lips thinned, and a tense feeling in his gut was forming. “I don’t know for how long or where I was going, but I knew that if I didn’t run, I would die.” Your arm was throbbing, but you only look at it and continue. “I bumped right into one of those men when I was trying to see through the rain.”

Voice dipping slightly, you hold back a squeak of surprise when David’s thumbs start moving back and forth slowly over your thigh. Blinking down at the top of his head, you pause and speak through a hitch of breath—the man mistaking it for upset and feeling his eyes crease. 

“...He swiped at me with a knife and I raised my hand up to block it. I,” you stare over at Riley as he runs next to Logan, that brown and black coat soaking wet. “I thought they had sent a dog after me when I saw yours in the house.” 

Hesh tilts his chin to the ground, lungs breathing down a sigh through his nose. Walking around the form of an abandoned and rotting side table, the Lieutenant tries not to imagine how scared you must have been in that instant. 

He moves his head and you look into the expression of a soldier who takes his job very seriously. At the intensity that lives behind his eyes—at close range—you see flecks of bark and mossy dirt; a delicate and almost pretty curve of lashes. You’re entranced by a rugged beauty as you sigh. 

“That’s never going to happen again.” Skin heating, you see his gaze search your face, hold firm. “I said I would get you home,” he declares, letting a small smirk peel his lips. “And I’m not one to go back on my word, you hear?” 

Your chest tightens. You don’t have the heart to tell him whatever place he’s bringing you isn’t your home, but you feel light at the statement anyways. The insinuation was enough.

“Okay,” you mutter, and you both stare a moment longer. 

Nodding subtly, David studies the dirt and grime on your cheeks, the weather on the epidermis in what could have been sun exposure or simple blemishes. Your expression turns shy at the blatant staring, and you move your head back just as Hesh chuckles deeply, blood pumping. Walking faster, the Lieutenant rejoins the other two with an alert eye and a soft smile as a thankful feeling grows for the blanket over his head and the woman holding away the downpour. 

He decided then and there that nothing bad would ever happen to you as long as he was around.

It’s an incredibly long walk, but when you see the Wall for the first time, you nearly fall right off of Hesh’s back. The rain had stopped by now, though the air was still moist and the sun low—giving the world a shivering temperature. 

But the Wall. 

Hesh had called it Liberty Wall in a passing comment as he had let you slide from his hold, your feet stumbling not from fatigue but from sheer amazement. It was…gigantic. Falling to pieces, sure, but nonetheless a great achievement.

“There she is,” David sighed, stretching out his arms and groaning as Logan radios in from where you all stand along the ridge. Riley lies panting at Hesh’s feet. “Good to see ‘er again, huh? Been outside for too long, I’m about ready to eat a whole plate from the mess hall—and that’s really saying something.” 

About to chuckle to himself, eyes narrow in confusion at the realization of your blank expression behind him, frozen body with wide-open lids and parted mouth. Hesh’s brows crease. 

“Hey...you alright?” Clearing your throat, you notice the twin brown and green gazes on you with a quick swivel of your head. 

The brothers share a look.

“Mhm,” you bite your lip, hands descending into your pockets as you shuffle, shoulders rolling under the straps of your backpack. 

Hesh crosses his arms as the radio on Logan’s chest statics with a garbled voice, “Affirmative. You’re all clear to proceed, Sergeant. Good to have you both of you boys back so soon—Riley too.” 

It was becoming even more clear that you needed to be brought to Fort Santa Monica and to their father. You had met Federation soldiers, were in No Man’s Land for who knows how long, and acted as if you’d never seen possibly the most recognizable landmark that had been made during the last ten years since ODIN. 

“Logan,” Hesh turns to his brother but keeps his eyes on you, “radio into dad, yeah? Tell him we’re back and going to be showing up at HQ. Ask for an empty room.”

You stare along the barrier, mind running back to all the events that had happened since the moment the world had changed, wondering. Thinking. 

If this had been here the whole time… Faces flash over the back of your eyes like a layered movie before you push them back. The trail that Hesh and Logan had taken to get here was probably only known to the likes of them—no one else, or you would have traveled it ages ago. The dark-clad soldiers were so numerous that you’d never even thought to take the main road up North, nor the woods. They were everywhere all the time.

A hand grips your upper arm and you flinch, focusing back as Hesh’s strong jaw comes into view. He flattens his lips in a still-line smile of comfort.

“Let’s get you inside, Ma’am.” His hand carefully presses down farther on his hat atop your head, pulling it over your ears once more. “Find you some less soggy clothes.”

“What about you?” You ask without really knowing what you mean, finding some strange sense of comfort when David was near to you. 

The man chuckles, heart jumping, beginning to guide you down the slope and watching you closely in case you trip. Riley keeps on his right, neck hair still bristled whenever he looks your way. 

“What about me?” He asks, cheekily.

“You just carried me more than halfway here,” you shiver and dig deeper into Logan’s blanket, “and you’re just as soaked—I don’t want you to get a cold because of me, Hesh.” 

The sentiment was true. David was feeling worn out, and some of the liquid dripping down his face was undoubtedly sweat, but seeing that adorably concerned expression was almost enough to make him forget the aches in his shoulders and thighs. He blushes and turns his gaze ahead, clearing his throat. 

“Ah,” the man shakes his head, “don’t worry about that. Could’ve been worse.” He smirks, “could have had to carry Logan.” 

You laugh quietly at him as everyone makes their way down into a large, underbridge, area made of concrete; heading quickly to a checkpoint in front of a large pair of black-steel doors built into the Wall. 

“I don’t think it would be that bad. Funny to watch, at least.” Staring at the back of the younger brother, Riley suddenly comes up from behind you, seemingly intent on getting there first. His ear brushes your swaying hand and the next thing you know, Hesh is shoving you to his opposite side as savage barks make you yelp. 

“Woah, Riley!” David hollers and your heart jerks to a ravaging pace, air trapped in your throat as you’re kept close to a strong chest by an arm around your shoulder. “Holy Hell, stand down!” 

Logan by now had turned and was jogging over, grabbing the dog by the vest and peeling him back across the concrete. Panting, you watch with shaking limbs and look down at your fingers. 

Nothing more than a large scratch across the top of your left hand, but it was irritated. You sink deeper into Hesh’s side and cover it against your chest. Green eyes jump back and forth from you to the raging canine, Logan’s grim-set face glaring down at the furry beast, putting Riley into a sit with a gloved hand to his behind. David smushes you closer and after a minute of more barking, the dog falls silent, though still glares at you violently. 

You struggle to take down air, face scrunched like crumpled paper. This dog… 

Hesh glares and clenches his jaw at Riley, for the first time in his life entirely frustrated with the animal. 

Guiding you forward quickly, the brunette doesn’t move his grip, scowling over his shoulder before bee-lining to the entrance. He speaks in clipped sentences to the guards who all know him and his brother well. 

“Take us to HQ.” You’re ushered into the back of an armored truck, Hesh taking your right side and telling Logan to stay with Riley in the next vehicle of the convoy. 

Blinking quickly, you swallow down saliva and hold your hand tighter, shivering and staring at the floor. 

“Let me see,” muttering, Hesh reaches out. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault…Christ, I swear he’s never like this.”

You shakily put your hand in his, the large mark aggressive looking but barely bleeding. But you remember the pressure of Riley’s fangs vividly as they slid past your flesh like soap.

“Ah, shit,” the man huffs, “I’m sorry, Sweetheart.” His thumb runs over the mark lightly, gritting his teeth and sending you a stiff glance. Your vision tilts as you look away, but the slide of his hold was addictive; the small twitches of his fingers and the warmth they bring. 

“Y’know,” you attempt a small, wobbly, chuff, “he looks a lot cuddlier than he is.” 

Still tense and feeling guilty, Hesh pushes forward a dull twitch of his lips; blaming himself. Maybe the dog needed more socialization if this was how he was going to act around injured civilians when they barely brush against him. 

“Yeah, I suppose.” Still holding your hand, he squeezes before stuttering nerves release you—hesitation to let you go bunching his knuckles for a second more. He liked the feeling of you in his hold, liked how your tension slowly leaked away when his attention was on you. “Doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

You feel the slight pulse in your hand, sighing before shaking your head.

“No, not really.”

“‘Not really’ isn’t givin’ me the reassurance I’m lookin’ for, Ma’am.” Shuffling out of the blanket, you place the water-heavy fabric in the seat beside you as the car flies over the ground, speeding you into safety.

“I think it would be worse if I lied.” Itching at his chin, Hesh huffs and nods, his large body so close to yours that his shoulder bumped yours with every movement of the vehicle. 

Your heart is steadily calming, and you rub at your face. The feeling wasn’t bad, and you almost find yourself leaning into him and putting your head in the slot of his neck.

Stop that.

“Guess so, but it would make me feel less like an ass.” Smiling, you raise a brow and view the way his chest beats quickly through his clothes, bouncing his vest up and down with adrenaline. Green narrows at you and your face heats. “But, no, honesty would probably be best, Sweetheart. I’d hate for you to be hurting and not tell me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smirk, swiping fatigue from your eyes as you yawn. “You’re very nice, Hesh—your brother too. Not what I would expect.” 

Wide lids side-eye you, lips parted. There’s a second of still silence as you slouch back against the seat, placing your stitched arm over your abdomen and pulling Hesh’s hat farther down your head; even if it was wet, it had gained a semblance of a precious gift. Like a present on a holiday, one you shake because you’re so excited to open it you have to stimulate your mind with its hidden contents. 

David blinks quickly, looking away to stare out the window and see the dark sky outside and the shadows it leaves as the twenty-minute drive to Fort Santa Monica truly begins. He lets you rest your eyes, but the comment has genuinely struck him.

Nice was not on the list of what most people called him. Stubborn—a natural-born leader, ruthless, and prey driven. But…nice. He clears his throat quietly and watches the raindrops sneak down the glass. 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Ma’am.”

—

You’re sitting in a large room filled with screens playing black and white video footage, pulling at the collar of a two-size-to-big sweatshirt and shifting in large camo pants. They had taken your backpack. In front of you, the face of an older man was simply watching you as you looked around with fatigued wonder. Desks with stacks of papers; large computer data storage boxes, the entire works. One of the upsides to this, you blinked at a water dispenser and realized, was that the lights were dim in here and you were finally somewhere that had AC. 

Inside your head, you were at a standstill. Part of you thought this was a dream, was this really all here the entire time, and you and the others just—

“I think we can start with names.” Your eyes whip forward, finding Elias Walker’s cold brown stare and graying hair as he stands across from the table you’re sitting at; your feet shuffle under the wood.

Hesh and Logan are by the door, the younger leaning on the wall petting Riley and the older keeping his arms crossed and fingers loose on the collar of his vest. Green softens when you look over slightly, a comforting smile finding your vision. He nods.

No need to be worried, he seems to say, I’m right here with you.

Over your head, the damp beanie was still there, now only slightly water-logged. You pull it down over your ears with a slow grip and listen. 

“You can call me Elias, and those are my boys you met,” a pale hand is moved in explanation. He grunts, “I’d imagine you’re all acquainted well enough.” 

You nod giving your name and mutter, “Nice to meet you.” 

Elias crosses his arms over his chest—it’s not hard to see how all of these men are related, though Hesh is more of a carbon copy of the father. The older man has a calm but stern look on his face as he frowns.

“And what was it that drove a civilian down into Federation-occupied land? Past the Wall?” You fiddle with your fingers in your lap, licking your lips. Elias wasn’t one to beat around the bush. “Better yet, how exactly did you make it outside—only way out is through the checkpoint.” Brown darkens, “else there’s a breach I don’t know about.” 

You struggle to answer, not sure if you know how to formulate a sentence that would make any sense. But this was starting to make you nervous. The unyielding intensity, Riley glaring at you, your blatant tiredness. Shock was settling but you didn’t know how to explain.

“How…” speech falters, and Hesh watches closely, frowning but knowing that you had to show them how you had gotten beyond the barrier. It was a massive security breach—it was a miracle you were even alive, really. “How long has it been since that wall was built?”

Elias stills. By the entrance, Hesh’s expression freezes. It’s as if the very air flips at the bare insinuation you offer forward. 

Shifting his hips, the older man’s muscles tense, as if he’s thinking over something very important. “Ten years since ODIN struck. Work on the Wall started right after.” A silent pause. Expectant. You feel your face drain of blood; a blank horror. 

Ten…ten years? It was silly, but your mind quickly went to your age—adding the numbers together and the time you missed. Ten years of hiding; of watching rare acquaintances die, scavenging for supplies. Ten years and this entire time you would have been able to live normally had the Federation camps moved just a tiny bit Eastward to open a path for you. 

“I…” You clear your throat, forcing out a blatantly fake laugh through a whimper, “Wow. That’s something, huh?” 

“You mean to tell me you’ve never left No Man’s Land?” Elias leans forward, placing his hands on the table and closing in. He doesn’t look angry, but his tone is disbelieving. Accusing. “That’s impossible.” 

“Dad,” Hesh steps forward, holding out a hand in front of him and glancing at your numb face—the sway of oblivion. 

“Ten years,” you whisper, staring off into Elias’s tense neck. “But she died just a week ago. All this time we could have…” David turns his head to you sharply. 

It’s like time stands still in that room—a void completely separate from all else besides a brewing acceptance. No one knows who you’re talking about, but the context is little needed for the way you spoke. Obviously, you had lost someone terribly important to you and Hesh understood that the reason you had probably made it so far was because of whoever they had been. You weren’t exactly the perfect image of a natural survivalist—not helpless, no, just not like the Lieutenant of Sergeant. Certainly not like their father.

“Shit,” a hand is lightly placed over your mouth, stomach bunching in your abdomen. 

“Let’s do this another time,” David interferes, and his father throws him a sharp glance. “It’s late, Dad. Everyone needs some rest; we can pick it back up in the morning—first light.” His mouth quirks in a stiff smile, and Logan backs him up silently.

Elias stands back up to his full height, crossing his arms loosely, and you’re stuck in the well that makes up your consciousness, descending bucket being fruitlessly dragged back up by a rusty handle only to fail halfway in the air as the rope bunches. The father sighs deeply and shakes his head, giving in to his son after a clench of his jaw. But it was obvious you posed no great threat.

“Alright.” Hesh nods and walks over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder as you look up at him slowly. He plasters a small smile on his face. It looked incredibly kind—the strong set of his eyebrows now soft. 

“Why don’t you come with me?” Fingers squeeze into your flesh. “There’s a pretty good barracks building a five-minute walk from here—doesn’t smell like the others and you’ll get a room all to yourself.” Elias watches, face losing a part of that tense edge. He shares a glance with Logan and turns to resume his work. “That sound good? I swear I won’t put you up in building three.” You stare and he acts like he’s sharing some big secret as he lets you stand up. “Ant problem.” 

You spare a tiny, broken, chuff of a laugh and his face brightens. A small win.

“You coming, Logan?” The Lieutenant asks, but the blonde is already shaking his head ‘no,’ pointing to the back exit to the shooting ranges. He was a night owl, through and through, and hasn’t changed a bit since they were kids. “Sounds good. I’ll take Riley.” 

“You boys take it easy,” Elias says over his shoulder, and you stay at Hesh’s side as he leads you out of the room, whistling for the dog to come to a heel which the canine does with a lolling tongue and sharp ears.

“You too, old man. Don’t worry about us.” 

“I always do.” The door closes and once again you three are walking together—Hesh more present with using his own body as a barrier between your form and Riley with his right hand near the dog’s vest handle. 

“I think my dad came off a little heavy, sorry about that.” David’s voice brings you back, pulling that bucket a little farther up from the pit below. “It’s just…”

The sentence falls.

You bite your lip and say, “It’s just his job. Even when I think about it,” the man still hasn’t released your shoulder, but instead moves his hand to the span of your shoulder blades. You try not to shiver and fail when he listens as if you’re the most viable source of news ever created. “It does sound a little...insane.” For lack of a better word. 

David chuffs, tilting his head and scrunching one eye. “Maybe just a little.”

The man feels you shaking and he doesn’t think you notice. Eyes wide and fingers twitching from where you keep them. The noise probably doesn’t help.

Buzzing lights and conversations only a door away as the two walk down the hallway and make it to the stairs to lead down to the main floor. From there the sounds were more barking dogs, vehicles, and gunfire from the training grounds. 

This was a military base, after all, and it never really went to sleep. It must be grating to hear after the utter silence of No Man’s Land.

“...But you wouldn’t be the first, believe it or not.” David tries to keep your mind off it, keep your attention on him…but he was curious; desperately so. Yet still, he didn’t want to rush you. You looked so overwhelmed it made his chest squeeze. “Heard a few reports from Dallas before it fell—a family that had lived in a man-made bunker and were found by patrols five years in when they were out scavenging.” 

“Really?” Your lashes caress your cheeks, and a small smile comes to you. You wonder how this man can make you feel so comforted; at ease despite the dog at his side and the various intimidating-looking gear strapped to him. Hesh was good-natured, it almost seemed impossible to imagine him a hardened soldier like you knew he really was. Kind, if not a bit mischievous and blunt. “That sounds more interesting than what I lived like.”

“Well, I doubt that.” Lips perk in a smirk. “Anyone with brains knows that time spent outside the Wall is always interesting.” 

“We just moved around a lot,” you admit, “those soldiers were always changing camps so we never stayed long anywhere.” 

“Hm,” Hesh makes a sound in the back of his throat, nodding. “Could’ve guessed that. Bastards jump around like cockroaches—can never get a good hit on ‘em.” He doesn’t press. 

“Really?” You feel more present now, itching at your cheek before looking at Riley as he lopes along and watches the roads from where you walk on the sidewalk. “What about the pattern?” 

David blinks his green eyes at you, face creasing. 

“Pattern?” 

“Yeah, they shift in a hexagon pattern every month. I had a map with it marked so I knew where to set camp.” Breath stills and Hesh stares at you, shocked, but his tone changes to a serious rush. He turns you slightly towards him with two hands on your arms.

“Would…you be able to mark those points again? If you had another map.” You lick your lips, cheeks going hot as you stutter, and feel his hands press into you. His chest was incredibly close to you, body heat leaking into your bones. Riley glares.

“Y-yeah, I think so.” David studies your face, searching for any hesitance. He pauses, green glimmering. There’s a moment when you notice the fast blinking on his face, the slight flush to his stubbled jaw as he clenches it, and are reminded of the caressing thumb that had dug into your inner elbow. 

Delicate stitches. 

The world blurs like a reflection in unknown water. Ripples that distort the streetlights into the shadows on his face and create soft waves of old scars and pale flesh in their warm illumination. Hesh’s breath hitches.

“G-good.” And he’s releasing you quickly as you wonder if being found by him was truly the best thing that could have happened. You spare a glance at Riley with racing blood, trying to stop the smile that insists to form for no reason. The dog cocks its head. “We’ll…get on that tomorrow.”

“Okay.” Whispers dance on airwaves as David keeps his eyes forward. Clearing his throat as you clock that tick and pull his beanie off. You bump your elbow to his side and he snaps his neck back over like a line with a hook. “You should have this back.”

You both walk slowly, side by side down a back street, and spare each other quick glances with flaming faces.

“No, that’s alright,” Hesh utters, rubbing at his neck and avoiding looking at you head-on. Your fingers brush the fabric and your expression softens. “I have a whole bunch in my room, don’t worry about it. I’d…” he chuckles to dispel the strange tension in his shoulders. “I want you to have it. Don’t want you cold.”

Your eyes crinkle, and the man swallows.

“So you think that your hat will help with that?” Teasing, you take it back anyways and situate it back on your head, shyly putting your hands into your pockets. “What? Is it special?”

“Woah,” Hesh, smirks with a raise of a hand, pointing lightly at you. “Hey now, Sweetheart, don’t disrespect my beanies like that—they’ll save your life.” 

Laughs bounce off the street. 

“I guess I’ll have to keep a close eye on it then,” Riley huffs and Hesh pats his neck firmly, giving him attention. “For my safety.”

“Damn right.” Your heart hurts from how fast it’s beating, that great muscle like a large drum that echoes in your ears. Skin tingles with an undeniable tension in the air.

The barracks building comes into view. 

It’s nothing extravagant, but the thought of a soft bed and a pillow not filled with mold was addicting. Your eyes blink along the structure as Hesh leads you in, keeping the door open for you as he tells Riley to sit at the entrance. The dog does so, though obviously with disapproval—grunting in that lupine way as the barrier separates him and his handler.

“He really does not like me,” you mutter out, raising a brow and catching back up to David who waits a few more feet into the building. 

The brunette sighs.

“He does tend to hold grudges. Once he wouldn’t play fetch with Logan for two days because he forgot to give him his dinner.” 

“Hell,” your brows raise up, “my odds are in the ground.”

“Probably, Ma’am.” You elbow his side again and he chuckles, bumping his shoulder into you as his hands sway at his sides. “Ah, don’t hold it too close, Riley’s just a special case. My father trained him so he’s all business.” A smirk, “Nothing like me.” 

You stop as Hesh does—in front of a nice-looking wooden door.

“Here.” He points to the handle and you grasp it, twisting and pushing past. 

You enter a tiny but clean room smelling like linen and golden light. Delicately, as if the world would break apart if you touched anything you stare at the lamp on the nightstand, the curtain over the window; the…comfort. The sight of an extra blanket on the end of the bed almost made you cry. 

“Now,” Hesh slides past you as your lip quivers, wide eyes looking around. “No one else can access these barracks without an ID, so there’s nothing that should go…wrong…” 

He trails off when he sees your face.

“Hey,” David takes a step forward. “What’s wrong?” His eyes slip around, looking for what might have upset you as he comes back to you.

“Nothing,” fingers lightly rest on your collarbone as you shake your head; vision going blurry at the man’s worried face. “Nothing’s wrong, Hesh, I promise. Just…” you laugh wetly, and a tear drops down your chin. “I forgot what it was like to have an extra blanket.”

It was more than that, but the statement was all you could describe right now without making a complete fool of yourself. David’s breath stills, hand stuck an inch from your arm. 

He watches the tears fall from you and, without thinking, he reaches up the back of his pointer finger and brushes it along the flesh; creating a line of fire up until he completely swipes it away. After a second of quivering silence, the air flimsy as your lungs jump, he finds no fear or discomfort in your expression and does this again—wiping away any trace of past hurts. 

Blinking, you tilt your head forward and bump it into his chest. Startled slightly, Hesh grunts, but his hand finds the back of your head above his beanie and cups it, staring down at you with hot cheeks and a thick throat. 

“I…” he begins but can’t find the words. You made him want to skin his hands of calluses so that the roughness of his touch was foreign to you. 

You only deserved warm flesh and extra blankets. As much food as you could eat—soft mattresses and even softer clothes. So short of a time he had known you, but not a second more did he want you to suffer. 

Ten years. He can’t even imagine it, and yet here you are in his arms. Kind. Unbroken.

Hesh’s head stutters, hesitating, before his neck bends and he presses his face into the top of your head, closing his sad eyes and running his other hand up and down your back. 

Sniffling, you melt even more into him.

“She died a week before you found me—my friend. She was with me since the beginning.” The hitched voice that comes out of you is so quiet that the brunette has to strain his ears to listen but listen to you he does. Silent as a bug and tightening his hold so you hear his strong heartbeat rampaging in his chest. 

Logan and him did this a lot when their mother died. Just hugged and held each other as if their lives depended on it. He doesn't know why, but he knows it has to be the same for you as well.

“Infection. She fell,” your voice cuts out, “fell on a rusty nail. She’s the only reason I made it this far.”

“Where were you?” Hesh asks, lungs aching for you. “When ODIN struck—in town?” 

You return to that time, hand sliding up to wrap around his waist to ground yourself. David lets you, increasing the pressure of his gentle hand on your spine. “Hiking. It…it was a family vacation.”

His jaw clenched tight. A swelling hatred strangles his neck, a feeling that makes his eyes slip back open—forests burning in his iris’ in great waves of an inferno. He had never wanted to charge out into San Diego more than at this very moment.

A family vacation had turned into a decade of surviving. Hesh didn’t have the heart to ask about where your family was now. He already knew the answer.

“Everything just…fell apart.” Your ribs hide your fast-paced lungs, your sniffling nose stuck deep into fabric.

“I know,” the man grunts, “I know it did, I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say. He knows. David pulls you back by the shoulders after a moment and slightly moves his head down to look at you head-on. “But you’re here now, okay? Behind the Wall. You made it. And I’m gonna make sure that you’re never alone like that again.” He attempts a smile as you see his concerned expression, shining with sincerity and honor. “I’d stake Riley on it.”

The wet giggle that exits you is automatic, and Hesh chuckles right back; put at ease and ears bouncing with that sound that he commits instantaneously to memory. 

“That’s counterintuitive, Hesh. I don’t want your dog.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I never break my word, huh?” Perhaps why he was so good at this, comforting people, was because of Logan. Only two years apart, but he’d taken the big brother role easily—loved it, in fact. It made him feel good to see people smile.

But it made him feel on the moon when it was you.

You watch his green eyes slip over your face, thumb going to wipe away the last drops on your under eye as a deep heat starts smoking inside of you. David speaks lowly, compassion so visible you find you want to gaze upon his face for hours; mapping lines and piecing together what made this man…him. 

“Feeling better?” Smiling softly, you find yourself leaning into his hands on your face. The brunette smiles back and chuckles. It wouldn’t be so bad, you decide, to stick by his side—even if Riley was less than approving.

“Feeling better.”

You sleep that night with an extra blanket wrapped around your body and a dark beanie on your head; taking in the scent from the fibers of thistle and dog hair. You’d never smelt something more comforting.

—

A week passes with a flurry of activity. You find out that Los Angeles is still habitable—in fact, there’s a stable economy in the city and people are thriving. Fort Santa Monica is home to not only a handful of civilians from before the war but also an incredibly large amount of military personnel all under Elias Walker's command. 

Hesh had taken you out on the third day for a ‘tour’ as he called it, but it was also due to the fact that you’d been too afraid to leave your room when not called upon. There were so many…noises…again. People laughing, happy conversations, and greetings thrown your way.

“Word got out about the girl that lived in No Man’s Land,” David had teased as you awkwardly waved at a woman in fatigues that had slapped your shoulder and invited you out for drinks with her friends. You had politely declined. “Everyone’s eager, seems.” 

“I think I forgot how to properly speak to people,” you had sent a frown and a huff his way, keeping close to him as he led you on with a wave of his hand and a deep chuckle. 

But in all this time you had earned yourself a big reputation for being the woman who handed over intel that others had only just begun to unravel. Federation base locations. Patterns on movement—irreplaceable data.

Which was why you’d been asked, rather told, by Hesh that you’d be going to the bar with him and Logan for drinks. On the house. 

You’d quickly found it to be a strange affair.

“Not feelin’ up to it, Sweetheart?” your eyes lift from where you’d been swirling your still-full glass of amber liquid. “I know it can be a little loud—I’m sorry. Merrick’s a giggly drunk.”

Green eyes stare at you with pity, throat bobbing as a beer bottle sits on Hesh’s lips; the last dregs going down before he wipes his mouth with his sleeve. 

“If you wanna leave I’ll walk you back, okay?”

“No,” you wave a hand, touched but hesitant, “that’s alright. I’m fine, really.”

The lieutenant smirks and tilts his head—raising a dark brow in disbelief. The two of you had gotten close over the days; he had told you early on that you were easy to read for him.

“Don’t make that face at me, David.” You glare, pointing from your seat at the bar top. Hesh rolls his eyes and shakes his head as if disappointed.

“Whoa, first name—that’s illegal.” 

Your lips pull up in a sharp smile, leaning over the table as the music from the building plays in your ears; warm light on your cheeks and nose. “David, David, David!” 

“Hey! Quit it!” You’d grown fond of him in a way you can’t describe. So short of time and yet you both still get giddy when you see one another—hearts hammering. Even now as the laughter spills from both of your lips and people in the bar spare knowing glances, you don’t address it. 

“But really,” Hesh levels and you watch him spread his hands in surrender, beer bottle still shimmering in one hand, “whenever you want to go, just ask.”

“Hesh!” A call bounces from the far corner and you both look over, startled, to Ajax at the pool table. “Get over here so I can wipe the floor with you!” 

There’s a bout of laughter from the other bar patrons, bets being placed loudly. 

“Hey, it won’t be that easy—you’re on!” Hesh is off with a rush, patting your shoulder as he passes. You watch after with a wide smile and a raised brow, muttering to yourself.

“He’s unbelievable.” You can’t deny the loftiness that you feel when he looks happy like that. Really happy. It’s nearly a curse to try and think about what he would have become if the Federation hadn’t fired ODIN. He would have been in the military still, no doubt, but not quite the same. 

Hell, what would you have been like, even?

A shadow slips into the chair next to yours, and you look over, content. “Hey, Logan.”

The younger brother nods to you, sipping from his glass of water, a greeting smile on his square jaw. True to the brunette’s word, he was very quiet, but you didn’t find it in a disrespectful way. Logan carried himself with a subdued power, and the dichotomy between Hesh and him was laughable when you really thought about it; polar opposites.

You didn’t mind in the slightest.

Holding an easy conversation with nods or tiny comments back, you spoke with him for about twenty minutes while Hesh and Ajax called each other names and threw baseless threats through smirking lips like toddlers. At one point a very drunk Petty Officer Second Class, Thomas A. Merrick, had to drag a laughing Ajax off the pool table while you and Logan watched with exasperated glances. 

But the air was easy and the drink was flowing—soldiers from all over the Fort were here tonight. For you, though most just came for a good sip of alcohol and you didn’t blame them. You just did what was right, nothing more. 

“I think I’m gonna head out,” you tap a fist to Logan’s shoulder and he looks at you, sparing a quick glance at Hesh. You smile. “Nah, I think he’s going to be at it for a while. I’ll just walk back by myself—I’ve got my keycard, so I’m all good.”

A yell of victory rings from the corner before a loud exclamation of, “Rematch, right now! Your foot hit one of the balls to the left when you were climbing it!”

“It did not!” Logan stares blankly behind you and you laugh, slipping past. 

“Tell Hesh I said to have a good night!” You call over your shoulder, catching adoring brown eyes following you out and a mock salute from his water glass. 

Riley sits outside, resting his eyes, but when the door closes behind you the canine springs to his feet. The week hadn’t soured your relationship, but it definitely didn’t make it better either. Frowning, you pause in the night and look at the empty food dish and the filled water cup set out by Hesh for him.

“Tough luck, bud?” A muzzle lightly curls, but at least he wasn’t barking at you. Ears stand alert and ready. “Look,” you level, pulling Hesh’s beanie farther down your head as those beady eyes glare. “I think we got off on the wrong foot, okay? It’s not like I want you to hate me—I was protecting myself. You,” your finger points, and a lupine huff warns you, “came at me.” You point to your chest. “Remember?” 

It was comedic the way Riley yawned harshly at that moment, and you scoff.

“Who am I kidding, you’re hopeless just like your handler. I shouldn’t even be doing this,” reaching into your jacket pocket, you produce a small, soggy, napkin. Bending down, Riley growls low in his gut, but you ignore him. Not to say that the sound didn’t make your lips thin, though.

Unraveling the knot you’d tied in the bar, you look down at tiny cubes of medium-rare steak and sigh. “Look if this doesn’t work, I’ll give up.”

Flattening out the napkin, you pick up a piece and turn your vision upwards to an intently watching dog. At the sight of the food in between your thumb and first finger, the dog’s mouth gradually opens, tongue beginning to lull. A black nose twitches quickly. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” you grumble, “Hesh said you were a food fiend.” 

Tossing one of the pieces on the ground, you let him sniff it before his teeth flash and he grabs it quickly, tossing it up and munching on it. When Riley’s done he looks back at you expectantly, shoulders less wound up but still uneasy. 

“Well,” you push the rest forward before standing, “go on then. Don’t let me stop you.” 

Shaking your head to yourself, you leave him behind and set off down the street, mumbling, “You can’t say I never did anything for you…” 

You hear the sniffing before the clammer of biting teeth, happy pants, and tapping feet. Huffing, you can’t deny the slight jump that affects your heart. You’d have to tell Hesh about the progress tomorrow. 

Your cheeks heat, smiling to yourself as you think about the brunette. His hands always seemed to be on you one way or another and during the last two days he’d been holding onto you for longer; firm touches that he had to blink himself back to the present to take away. The actions made your skin tingle and more than once you’d caught your gaze lingering on his visage—his body. As if trying to will him back to you when he had to leave. 

But the staring was mutual. You had sworn at one point you had seen him more intent to fuzzily look at your moving lips than to focus on what you were explaining. Fingers absentmindedly tapping on a desk and humming at every word from you. The look had been…your body shivers warmly in remembrance, staring giddily at your shoes. 

You continue down the street, circles of light from the lamps hitting you one by one as you glide under them like a moth. Humming a light tune, you take the route that Hesh had brought you down the first time, imagining his hands on you and his lips on yours. 

When you giggle silently and chastise yourself for thinking like that, you hear the last whispers of a distant conversation that lead you to pause.

Your face freezes, smile stuck as your legs stall. It was Spanish wafting over the air, hushed and harsh. That wouldn’t be alarming, many people here spoke the language fluently as it was the native one of the entirety of the Federation—it was needed for intelligence gathering, or at least that was what Hesh had explained. No use going into No Man’s Land if you can’t understand the driving force occupying it. 

But this was hushed arguing, not some common conversation. It didn’t sound normal and the scuffling feet over the concrete gave you pause. The night suddenly became very cold. Backing up a step as you stare in the general direction of the increasing footfalls, the sudden sight of three heavily armed men as they round a corner with strong eyes. 

Your vision finds them immediately—and they do the same for you. It was instinctual, then, when your suddenly fevered face snapped to their patches. 

Gold stars and a black rhombus. Red outlined. Your expression utterly drops. 

There’s a single instance where no one moves, neither you nor those three Federation soldiers that now stare right back with an equal amount of shock. 

“Eh,” you make a sound in the confines of your throat and all hell breaks loose.

Jolting away, shouts ring out as hands snatch at your limbs, and you can’t even begin to think about how these people got into the Wall undetected. 

Everyone’s at the fucking bar!

Yelling loudly, you dash to the side, a quick swipe going above your head as the beanie is wrenched off of you instead of your hair. Not bothering to fight for it, though a large part of you wanted to, your feet take you anywhere but here. 

Roaring in anger, the soldiers pursued with rampaging boots and vitriolic order. Why they don’t shoot you is a wonder. Maybe it was because they wanted to try and salvage what they’d already lost. 

The screams escape you as you dash backward, retracing your steps but it isn’t going to be long before they catch you—true to that idea, just as the words exit your mouth, a harsh hand captures the back of your neck. 

“David!” The other winds around your mouth, muffled screams stuck behind gloves. Legs and arms striking out, your body is dragged into a back alley; the others all join to force you to submission. 

Your boot connects with someone’s kneecap, and a hoarse yell echoes as you rage with a frenzied pulse. Wide eyes look this way and that, sweat forming on your brow as a punch finds your gut and a resounding insult flies to your ears. 

Going slack for a moment, the violent white that bursts behind your vision leaves your straining muscles useless and you try to breathe behind the unrelenting hand over your mouth and nose. Like a shot deer, your dragging legs give out; coughing and gasping for air. 

Pain shoots down your chest with ruthless efficiency. 

You suppose in that moment of ringing ears, that it was chance that you heard the dull shunk of a knife being taken from a sheath. It wasn’t chance, though, when your desperate teeth snapped into the heavy hand, ignoring pain and the tears smeared over your face.

With a sharp cry, the hand loosens enough for you to get the last word, a brief moment of clear realization, “Riley,” you scream with little breath but sufficient volume, “Come!” 

The knife descended on you, but you jerked your shoulder to the side, head ripped back to bare your neck to the silent moonlight as the hand recovered your face. Black dots swirl, shadows lingering like phantoms in the recesses of your mind and spilling demons from your eyes. Hatred flares in you, but not as much as fear does. That silver blade connects with the meat of your neck and shoulder junction, tearing past muscle and tissue to rent a large slash open to the air. 

Your legs kick before arms wrap around them—more quickly called orders and insults directed at the one who had missed your neck peeling back the drums inside of your ear. Thick, hot, blood stains your clothes; the copper scent gets stuck in your nose as you gag and try to force your lungs to function with nothing to suck down. Darkness seeps deeper, and the knife is brought up once more, the tip digging into your cheek with a firm bite when you try to flinch away.

That’s when a guttural and vociferous yowl exudes from the chest of a rampaging canine as it bursts from around the corner of the alley, white teeth glinting and eyes red. 

Riley has the man with the knife by the neck in two seconds flat, reaming him back and clinging to his spine with only his fangs on his nape. Multiple wet crunches echo for but a moment, a small sliver in time, but then the loud pained bellows that follow after drown out all else. Like a bomb had been dropped, the man Riley keeps ripping apart falls sideways, hands reaching behind his head to try and pry the dog off. In a fit of fear and stupefaction at the turn of events the remaining men release you, tossing your body to the side and into the adjacent wall in panic. 

Hands reach for guns but it’s already too late. Riley has ripped the entire back of the man’s head off in a flurry of fur and jerking maw—flesh peeling back in long strings into a waiting mouth as the screams continue. Now, though, they come from only the remaining soldiers as you watch with mute horror; gripping your leaking cut and vision fuzzy from the blow that your head had taken from slamming into the wall. Lack of oxygen. 

With all the ruckus, it was only customary that the streets were soon awake with confusion and rising tension. You swore you heard your name being called streets over, hurried yelling as the lights flicker on from the building across the road.

But Riley. Christ, Riley. 

The second man’s pistol was stopped from rising any farther as fast fangs found a wrist, the shot bouncing off the ground as you balked back against the wall and cried out. Across the Fort, the yelling starts up. Louder now. That remaining soldier unaffected thus far by the feral rage is snapping into a ready stance—shaking as the barrel is leveled with the dog’s skull as sharp points go for the kill once again. 

“Riley!” You snag out a leg and rip it back, curling your foot around his ankle. Black clothes hit the ground hard, as the man inside went with them. 

It carried on just the same. 

Panting you stare into the blood-dripping muzzle that now turns your way, three opened necks pooling to the ground and twitching. Gargling gasps dribble like glasswork exploding in kilns; such a vulgar, primal, sound. But you only stare at the beady brown eyes as they seem to bite you as well. Framed with crimson, whiskers droopy as droplets hit your knee and rancid breath slides over your stalled face.

“Please…” you mutter, bruised head turning to the side, eyes clenched shut. Licking lips resonate and you clench your hands as you finally hear the frantic calling of your name coming down the road. Fast-moving shadows.

Hesh.  

Riley breathes on you, but before your swallowing throat can call out the brunette in fear of what the dog will do, a wet tongue licks a long stripe over your cheek. Eyes bugging, you snap your head back up, jaw slackened and brain struggling to calm down. 

The dog watches with a slow tilt of his head, tail lowly swishing. 

“What the fuck,” gasping wetly, the hand on your wound lessens, hot fluid gushing between fingers. 

Riley huffs, feet shifting. 

Laughing slightly in anxious confusion, your free hand lightly raises. Soft fur conforms to you, letting your digits weave through the locks. Riley licks his lips once more and sits on his fluffy behind, ears sharply up and twitching. 

Hesh nearly runs past the sight, heart too fast for his chest and teeth clenched tight together. His mind was as sober as it could be—a deep sense of unease clawing in his gut. 

He’s heard the screaming; the gunshot. When he’d run out of the bar after doing a quick headcount for you and being unable to place your form, Riley had already been gone. A trail of dust and a floating napkin were the only indicators. But the fear was worse than that.

Where had you gone? Were you in danger? No thought was behind his sprinting, just a flushed face and a deep need to keep you safe. He’d promised you. 

No one had been able to stop his senseless searching as he took off at a racer’s pace, looking down alleyways and carrying the pistol in his right grip until his knuckles had gone white and see-through. Like a loyal hound, Hesh was intent to find you. Even if it turned out to be nothing. 

And then the real screams started, and so he screamed too—your name.

But now he slams a hand into the concrete wall and reels himself back, a hunched shadow stiff in the side of his green vision before he can fully pass the alleyway entrance. 

“Holy…” Hesh trails harshly, gaze going wide. 

You were there surrounded by three Federation soldier’s bodies and while that was alarming, there was only so much you could do when you were a corpse. Riley held in your arms was something that Hesh couldn’t begin to explain. 

But the shock was short-lived.

“Sweetheart!” He called, boots propelling him forward as he slid to one knee in front of you, hands pushing past fur and muscle to bring yours forward by your shoulders. A handgun is placed into the back of his belt. “Woah, woah, hey. Tell me what happened. Where does it hurt?” 

Staring into your eyes you immediately relax at the presence of the man, his large body seeming to shield you away while sending glances around the area; not liking the thought of more attackers. 

“Hesh,” you breathe, massive weight coming off of you even as you bite your lip in a pained whimper. 

“I’m here. I’m right here.” Hands travel over your body, gliding over bumps and bruises quickly and efficiently. “What the fuck…” he growls deeply. “It’s all gonna be okay.” 

A swift glance is sent to the canine who watches blankly. 

“Good job, boy.” You stare blurrily into Hesh’s neck as he carefully peels back your hand, face scrunching and body pulling together as sparks of agony alight as the gaping cut meets the breeze. 

“I,” stuttering, you ignore his harsh inhale, the ripping of his shirt as he presses the tattered cloth to your neck. You shiver. “I lost your beanie.”

Fearful green eyes lock on your as the calls from the rest of the soldiers from the bar finally make an appearance. How fast had Hesh been running to find you? 

“Hey, don’t even worry about it,” his palm encapsulates your cheek like a prized family heirloom, keeping your face pointed toward him as you shiver. The soft scraping of his hard calluses itches your flesh. A strained smile graces his lips, “I’ll give you another one.” He looks the rest of you over and grits his teeth. 

He doesn’t care about the dead soldiers—the possibility of a breach. Suddenly, all of his priorities had shifted in the short span of a week, horrible loyalty rearing its head.

“I need you to stand up for me, Sweetheart, okay? I’ll be right here, I just need you on your feet. I know you can do it.” You nod shakily, pulling strength from his resolve as his arm pulls you to his chest like it had when you’d first hugged; using his muscles to drag you up a second after checking to see if you weren’t in too much pain. 

Standing now, his grip stays around you, propping you up into the crook of his arm and increasingly looking more and more worried. 

When you flinch and whine, he looks about ready to burn down cities to bring you comfort. 

“Riley, come on!” Hesh calls, then softer, “I know it hurts, but you’re doing great. Keep at it just a little longer.” 

He moves you quickly, and the pounding in the back of your head threatens to drown out everything—your neck and ribs barely made a dent like that did. A pan being hit with a spoon. Nails on a chalkboard.

“Logan!” David yells, and he feels incredibly warm. Riley brushes your staggering legs, keeping close and looking up at you. Leaning in more heavily, you gaze up into Hesh’s frowning face, his continued glances, and the furrow in his brow. 

You wonder how you’d never noticed how truly handsome he was before. Hesh had a strong face—good bones and a soft nature to his skin besides the stubble. And his eyes. Oh, his eyes. You blink up at him and he spares a stiff smile, mostly dragging you down the alley. 

Other feet pound the ground near the entrance.

“What’s that look for? Huh? Makin’ me nervous over here.” His fingers squeeze your shoulder. “Got something on my face?” 

“You’re kind, Hesh.” You whisper, blinking and stumbling before he grunts, twisting his grip to bring you up into a bridle hold. “Far kinder than you should be.”

His heart breaks.

Clenching your teeth, you bury your head into his neck before the brunette starts to run again. He pounds past Logan and a group of armed soldiers, who slide to a quick stop. Hesh only spares his wide-eyed brother a single, horror-stricken, look on the way through. Riley follows.

“Just keep talking.” He pleads, your dead weight in his grip worse than anything he’d ever experienced. “Y’know, you keep ending up in my arms.” He rounds corners, heading to the MTF with a bursting pulse. Hesh keeps looking down at you, pressing your head closer with a hand as if he could bleed himself to give you strength. “I think I should get my own plaque—Pack Mule. What do you think?” 

Laugh, please, laugh. Please, I need to hear it.

You laugh slightly, ear ringing to his blood flow. You want to melt into him, let him keep holding you like this and keeping you to him like a stuffed animal. His breath on your cheek, his glassy eyes and bitten lips. 

You’d known he was good from the moment you had seen him standing and gaping at your form in that bathroom cabinet, willing to treat your wound without even knowing if you were armed.

He’s good.

Hesh sprints past an entrance, shoulder slamming into a glass door as it’s thrown to the side. 

“Nurse!”

You don’t know why, but hearing his voice crack like that made you want to sob.

—

The soft antibacterial whip made you glower and flinch back, frowning straight into Hesh’s serious face.

“If you clean it anymore my skin will fall off.” You shoo his hand away from your shoulder, pulling the hospital gown back up in the process. 

“Just making sure it’s healing,” he looks up at you from his chair as you sit on the end of the bed. “Can’t be too careful.”

“Says the man who’s been here every day and leaves Riley to watch the door when he has to go to the bathroom.”

“Hey,” Hesh blushes, pulling back to slouch and crossing his arms. “It’s called being cautious. We still don’t know where the breach is.” 

You stare with a soft smile, exasperation in your eyes. 

“David,” he raises a brow at the title, “I’m okay.” 

Moving your hand from your lap, you absentmindedly pet the dog that sleeps on the hospital bed, itching behind Riley’s ears. Hesh watches, moments passing as the small tension seeps out little by little. He glances at the outline of stitches that he has to place bandages on soon but quickly looks away, frowning to himself. 

You sigh, shaking your head. 

“When I heard your voice from the alleyway entrance, I knew I would be just fine.” Green slowly slides back, gaze softening considerably as he watches your expression. A low grunt is forced out, a rubbing of a hand on his neck. “You promised, didn’t you?” Your head tilts. “You haven’t broken it.”

“No, I haven’t,” Hesh breathes, standing, “and I don’t intend to.” 

You smile, face hot as his vision blinks to the upturn of your lips. “Hey,” Riley stirs next to you, “at least I know I won him over.” Your hand pats the dog’s head. 

The brunette stares and a moment passes before he whispers, “knew you would.”

Blinking, you turn to find the most delicate expression on David's face and your breath hitches in your chest. He swallows but doesn’t hesitate. The words had been eating at him for a while, and as he was never one to shy away from speaking his mind, it was like torture to keep this from you. But now…now events have forced him into the spotlight. He can’t forgo this anymore, he can’t lie and say he hadn’t been sneaking glances or daydreaming about you. Your smile, your voice—even the way you walked or how your eyes lit up when you were passionate about something. 

It was just right, and seeing you like this now only strengthened that. Hesh had felt fear like he had when he was carrying you a total of a mere handful in his entire life. 

He mutters, “I knew from the second I found you out in No Man’s Land that you were special.”

Not believing your ears, you stop your petting. Wide eyes like dinner plates and a half-parted mouth. 

Was he…?

“I knew when you made me laugh when I was carrying you through the hills,” Hesh takes a step closer and grabs you lightly by the chin, tilting it up with a finger. His face was adorably burning, but you short-circuit at the words that continue to flow with candor. Your heart skips beats and with a clammy hand, you reach up to brush his wrist. Shivering, confidence builds. “I knew when I hugged you the first night you were here and,” he looked down, “I…I knew you were special when I felt my heart bursting out of my chest when I found you in that alley.” 

“Hesh,” you whisper, and you realize you close the two of you had become, breath mixing like a cocktail of glorious infection and stolen words. 

“If I hadn’t gotten there on time…” 

“Hesh.”

“...Even if I’ve only known you for a short while, Sweetheart, I can’t stop thinking the same thing every time I see you.” You stare, eyes wet, and suddenly no longer aware of where your head is anymore. 

His lips brush yours, but all you care about are those green eyes; digging, drilling past membranes and thoughts more effectively than any blade. You’re entranced, wholeheartedly frozen just for him—just as he is for you. 

It’s nothing but a whisper now. You feel the words more than hear them. His thumb tightens on your chin, and you don’t pull back as you steal his warmth. His kindness. 

His loyalty.

“...that even if I hadn’t entered that house on that rainy Tuesday,” he shutters, “I’d still be looking for you everywhere I went.” 

When his lips meet yours, you capture his soul, dragging him down into the depths of your lungs and breathing hope back into him. You smile through it, bandaged and stitched but happier than you’d been in a long time. 

Pulling back from a soft and delicate meeting of flesh, both faces are heated, burning under the pigments. There’s a moment of sanctity—holy silence one would find in a church during high mass—as you stare at one another. Hesh’s fingers run small movements on your skin. You beam and he says in a whisper, “Hey…I guess that means I did something right.”

“You’re lucky you’re perfect, David.”

“I could say the same about you, Sweetheart.” You giggle and drag him back in as Riley snoozes on, legs kicking in a silent dream. 

When the nurses come to check on you in four hours, they’ll find the bed occupied by three forms. 

A soldier, a patient, and a dog. All curled up in a pile of multiple blankets and hard pillows—arms wrapped around one another with the man pressing the woman’s face deep into his chest; even breaths of a soft sleep that sing like rare lullabies. All, in their own way, seem to have heavy smiles stuck into the lines of their faces.

They leave them be.

TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegelll, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[naamahdarling]

05/18/22

Are you looking for a gorgeous, friendly, impossible mess of a void cat and have a home where you have no other pets? Boy have I got the guy for you!

Meet Etrigan, a 10yo DSH and one of the sweetest, goofiest voids I've ever met.

We are in the Tulsa, Oklahoma area and can drive 3 hours one way to place him, or arrange transport south as far as San Antonio!

Right now, in-person meetings at our home aren't possible, unfortunately, but if you are nearby we could let him visit your place.

He needs a new home because he doesn't get along with his brothers and is desperately unhappy here, and this has manifested in recent aggressive behavior. In a home without other pets, he would be fine.

He also has some tummy issues and is on prescription food to try to help control it.

He comes with all his shots, a clean bloodwork panel and bill of health, and exhaustive vet records going back to his adoption at a few months old. His tummy issues and a kittenhood respiratory infection aside, he has and always has had excellent health.

First, the good:

He will cuddle you in bed or lay in your lap as long as you will let him. His favorite snuggle is the Leg Hole. If you sit down and you put your feet together or loosely cross your legs, he will plunge awkwardly into your crotch with an enthusiasm that you have probably never experienced. It's actually quite charming, although sometimes he burps.

He fetches eagerly, although not always well. He's extremely playful and energetic and loves puzzle toys and activity trays and feather wands.

If you give him a window in the bedroom, he will sit so that the sun strikes him. Then he will carry all the light and all the hope of the morning to you in his fur, without you even having to get out of bed.

He loves to be sung to. His favorite songs are Asleep at Last by the Wailin' Jennies, and Forever Young. Not the Rod Stewart one, the other one.

He has one naked heel, in the back, where the gods dipped him in the River of A**holes. There is usually one white hair on his forehead.

The downsides:

He is aggressive with other cats and is not cut out for a rowdy household with kids. He must be an indoor cat, no exceptions.

He is a food thief and trash bandit. Just be prepared for his EXTREME food-seeking behavior. He will go after food you wouldn't expect. Like grape stems or tomatoes or lettuce. You will need to store things in the fridge or a latched pantry. He can open drawers.

And he's a pooper. At least twice a day, every day, he considerately lets you know very stinkily and with many loud farts, that he is not constipated. Isn't that nice?

He requires an enormous litter box, possibly with a Popemobile splash guard. Sometimes he poops outside the box, but that may be related to the considerable amount of stress that he is under having to share the house with four other cats he absolutely despises.

He's been checked by our vet, who can find no reason for him to be the worst pooper ever. He needs a specialist, which we can't afford.

Then there's his hair-trigger anal glands. If you put pressure on the backs of his thighs, he sometimes releases something that smells like Satan's Taco Bell shits. The vet thinks if his tummy issues could be improved, more solid poops would help him stop violating the Geneva Convention's policy against chemical warfare. I'm not sure. I think it's just who he is as a person. You learn to work around it.

So that's our guy. A guy I love so much I can't stand it. And because I love him, I need to rehome him

Reaching the decision to re-home him has been agonizing. We have tried meds. We have worked with the three-vet team at our clinic, and with two feline behavior specialists, and they all agree, as do we, that the best thing for him is to put him with someone new who can look after his needs better. He is so desperately unhappy right now. And we are desperate to help him.

So please, if you could spread the word so we can find him a good home? And if you think you can handle his issues and be that good home, please message me.

All I ask is that you care for him, sing to him, give him a good window and a lot of play, and keep him by your side. What any cat deserves, even a blasphemous food-stealing shit-cannon like him.

PM me here or email at naamah@gmail.com, and we can discuss getting you hooked up with your very own...whatever this is.

Thank you, and spread the word.

[graveyard-cuddles]

There's this post I saw on here about how if the player turns Shadowheart over to the Sharans, the rest of the party should all turn on you. I completely agree, and I think they should also mutiny against Tav/Durge if they tell Orin to just go ahead and kill the party member she takes hostage. Act 3 feels like the act where everyone in the group should care about each other the most and yet it's the act where they arguably feel most disconnected from one another. And this is all probably a symptom of the overall lack of reactions and responses to major events in Act 3 from the companions in general.

But another similar example that drives me insane is how, if you ascend Astarion and then immediately turn on him and side with the Gur, ALL of the companions will just be like "Nice work taking out the trash, team. Job well done. Another vampire lord vanquished, " without so much as a hint of emotion after you betray him, gang up on him and KILL HIM?? As if they hadn't spent weeks and possibly months traveling with Astarion, getting to know him, bonding with him, ect. As if they hadn't just all stood there and let him complete the ritual. But the moment Paladin Karen and the Gur show up, they just abandon all that over what? Some vague ideal of "evil is evil black and white no nuace" nonsense? (which is even more ridiculous if some of the other companions are evil like DJ Shadowheart or Minthara).

The only companion with a reasonable reaction is Halsin, who correctly points out you should have tried harder to stop the ascension rather than betray Astarion and kill him after it happened. I understand that not all of the companions have the best relationship with him. And I understand all of them very much disapprove of him ascending. So I don't expect the whole party to mutiny over this particular decision. But the fact that they ALL uniformly turn on him so quickly for these people they don't even know is disappointing. There should have realistically been some pushback/objections. Or at least some guilt and sadness and reflection over the fact that they all just had to kill their former traveling companion/friend that THEY allowed to become this threat they felt warranted putting down.

It feels like it should be an incredibly tragic and cathartic moment, and it just falls spectacularly flat. I tried to rationalize their reactions as just part of the shitty lack of responses the companions all generally have in Act 3. But at least with Shadowheart and the hostage situation with Orin the companions will still be ANGRY at you and express their disaproval. Whereas here it really comes off like they just don't give a shit about Astarion and never really did. It's depressing.

I feel like it unintentionally and very sadly lends validation to the idea that what Astarion says about no one else being like Tav/Durge. No one else will look out for him. No one else will have that same kindness for him. No one has a heart like them. I don't actually agree with this notion. I think based on the good epilogue for his spawn ending he's definitely capable of making friends and genuine human connections. But Tav/Durge HAS to come first. They have to be the example that shows him how.

Also why I can't stop repeatedly romancing him. Astarion needs Tav/Durge arguably more than any other companion. He has nothing and no one else.

[gerrystamour]

you're in the walls that i made with crosses and frames [gift fic]

Explicit★Steddie★7600 words★Complete

Happy birthday @legitcookie !! I hope it was a lovely one!! And yes, wee collab with @sentient-trash with the art!! ;p Summary: The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him. “Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance. Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness… Tags & CWs: Break-up, getting back together, semi-public sex, blatant scene theft from Atonement minus the angst, hurt/comfort, love confessions, anal sex, barebacking, Creampie No Condom Nation, top steve harrington, bottom eddie munson

[ READ ON AO3 ]

The sounds of the gala fell away as Steve reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner he saw Eddie disappear around. The other man was moving fast, already at the end of the hall and turning at the next corner. It was dark upstairs, the wall sconces turned on but kept low, and the live music from downstairs was barely audible through the formidable soundproofing. All Steve could hear as he quickened his steps was the jingling of the chains that adorned Eddie’s outfit.

It had been overwhelming seeing Eddie walk in with his band earlier that evening, in more ways than just the deep-seated ache in Steve’s chest.

Steve had been trying to distract himself without getting hammered while he watched the entrance, forcibly taking his time with the glass of wine Robin had grabbed for him.

“Maybe he won’t show,” Steve said hopefully as the first hour of the gala passed.

“You know he’d never pass up the chance to make your dad shit his pants,” she said blandly, and Steve looked down at her skeptically. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “What? Maybe I haven’t actually met ‘im yet, but I think that’s a fair guess.”

“Robin! I need your help!” Vickie materialized out of the crowd next to them, reaching out to touch Robin’s wrist gently. Steve watched with no small amount of amusement as Robin blushed lightly and immediately followed after Vickie, not even waiting to hear the crisis.

Once he was standing alone, he made a point to look around at the other guests, trying not to watch the entrance like a hawk.

It was a charity gala, something that was mostly for Steve’s father to save face after his campaign accepted a donation from an organization with concerning ties to a white supremacist group. John Harrington’s PR team had been insistent that he arrange an event, inviting the spokespeople of a handful of charities that had been trending positively on social media recently.

All but one charity declined the invitation. The only one that accepted the invitation was a charity for homeless queer youths, which Steve knew to be connected to Corroded Coffin. For them to accept the invitation meant that Eddie was absolutely going to be showing up, and he was going to be making a statement.

Despite preparing himself for the moment he saw Eddie again ever since Corroded Coffin returned their RSVP with a giant yes, Steve was still nearly brought to his knees at the sight of him.

At first, Steve didn’t even realize they had arrived, successfully distracting himself with people-watching while some friend of his father’s chattered at him. It was only when the man stumbled over his words and stared over Steve’s shoulder at the entrance that he turned to look.

The first thing Steve noticed was that all four of them were wearing their battle vests or jackets; loud garments adorned with patches, pins, and spikes. Except these particular garments had political statements on them more than they were decked out in band patches. And of course, Eddie’s leather battle jacket was the loudest out of the four with several patches condemning white supremacy, all surrounded by a sea of shiny spikes.

The man practically glittered as he stepped into the light of the foyer.

It wasn’t just the jacket that had enough metal on it to catch the light but there appeared to be several chains adorning his outfit underneath—no, not an outfit, the dress. Eddie actually showed up to Republican Congressman John Harrington’s charity gala in a dress, and Steve had never been more in love with him than he was right that second.

But that was the problem, though—Steve being in love with Eddie.

The voices of the mingling ambassadors, politicians, and investors hushed as more people took notice of the newest arrivals, their expressions sour, some even angry, though it wasn’t lost on Steve the way some of their eyes lingered on the four of them just a bit too long to be strictly disdainful.

From Steve’s vantage point, he could tell that Eddie’s dress was pretty simple except for the chains with a wide neckline that rested at his collarbones, but it looked like there were two slits following each leg and ended quite high on his pelvis. Those had Steve desperate to see Eddie walking with his full stride, to see how the skirt moved around his legs and showed them off. At that distance, Eddie didn’t look too much taller, so Steve was sure he wasn’t wearing heels, but he still had gorgeous legs with tattoos covering almost every inch of his skin. Already, Steve was formulating a plan to get closer to Eddie, wanting to see that dress up close, to see Eddie in that dress up close.

Returning his attention to Eddie’s face, his breath was taken away at how fierce his expression was, the way it was accentuated by the make-up he was wearing—it was his concert make-up, if a bit dialed back since it wasn’t for an arena to be able to see but a slightly more intimate affair. Their current tour had a lot of Satanic overtones to it, so the look was dark, very smoky and gave Eddie’s brow a permanent sort of scowl. Of course, Eddie’s curly mane of dark hair was left down, wild around his face and shoulders and Steve hated that he knew how it would feel to bury his hands in it.

It was then that Eddie’s eyes met his from across the room and a sneer twisted his features. It was pathetic just how much that condescending look did for Steve.

“Carry on, gentlemen,” Eddie addressed the gawking bystanders nearest to them before he began crossing the room in Steve’s direction, granting his wish of seeing that dress move around his legs, and good God, Steve was not prepared for this like he thought he’d be.

Yes, Steve had always been obsessed with the rockstar’s legs, the way they were thicker than one might expect, strong and covered in tattoos. Except all that was visible of Eddie’s legs were his thighs, since he was wearing a pair of knee-socks under his clunky combat boots. The dichotomy of the battle jacket, the dress, and the boots was captivating. It was impossible to look away from the man, even if Steve was worried about how he would react being so close to Eddie again for the first time in weeks.

As Eddie got closer, a flash of red somewhere in Eddie’s outfit caught Steve’s attention and he nearly choked on his tongue. Through the slits in the skirt, Steve could catch a glimpse of whatever underwear Eddie was wearing and Christ, he was pretty sure he saw something red and lacy. Another thing that Steve was able to tell now that Eddie was closer was that the chains on the dress were not actually part of the dress, but attached to a leather harness he was wearing over the dress.

It was one of the harnesses Steve had seen him wear lots of times in the past, though that was often with a lot less clothing and in the dim lighting of the bathroom at a gay club.

The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him.

“Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness.

The last time they saw each other, it was yet another hurried, desperate hook-up. They were sprawled out on the couch in the green room after Eddie’s show in Seattle, the rest of the band already on their way back to their apartments. Eddie was practically naked, since he really only wore a pair of tight, black jeans while performing while Steve was still wearing his entire outfit. Nimble, grasping hands had managed to unbutton Steve’s shirt enough to get to his collarbones, and Eddie made a delighted little sound as he wiggled where he sat on Steve’s cock.

“What?” Steve chuckled breathlessly, tipping his head back as Eddie stooped to kiss and nibble the spot just beneath his collarbone.

“Nothin’,” Eddie crooned as he began to bounce, sighing as he said, “Just my favourite freckle. Looks a little like a heart.”

The comment shot through Steve, and he almost choked on it, the way his heart clenched and how badly he wanted what they had to be more than just casual fucks in back rooms, public toilets, and occasionally the backseat of a limo. It wasn’t a surprise to Steve to realize that he was actually in love with Eddie—hell, he flew out there just to see the rockstar because he knew it was Eddie’s birthday last week.

As they panted for breath, Steve had considered asking Eddie about the comment he made, about the possibility for more. But looking around the room, eyes landing on the battle jacket, and he couldn’t help but remember the way they started this.

It started with something that could only be called hate-sex. Sex that was mean and punishing, that left them both bruised and limping most of the time. The first time they hooked up, Eddie had shoved Steve to his knees so hard he’d needed to wear his old knee brace for a couple weeks.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use for once in your life, Harrington.”

Eddie never hesitated to rant about Steve’s father, which was understandable. He felt like he hated his father for the same reasons, too. But there was that knowledge that Eddie hated his father, and John hated Eddie just as much, and—fuck, they were both too famous to keep a relationship secret. They were already pushing it with their little arrangement as it was. Steve was already trying to figure out how he would get out of there without being recognized.

And ultimately, it wasn’t even about Steve’s father, but everything John stood for and his voters, his following. It would be dangerous for Eddie to be with Steve, and even if the rockstar wanted to take that risk on—and he knew Eddie wouldn’t—Steve wouldn’t ask that of him. And mostly, pathetically, Steve just didn’t want the man to fucking laugh at him for catching feelings. Christ, he’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

“You have a hotel room?” Eddie asked, still catching his breath as he lifted himself shakily out of Steve’s lap with a grimace. Getting off the couch, he crossed the small room to start turning his pants the right way out.

“Nah, I was gonna fly back out to D.C. on the first flight out and that’s in, like, four hours. Just had to sign some things at our firm here,” Steve fibbed as he watched his cum drip down Eddie’s thigh.

“What are you going to do for four hours?” Eddie snorted, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before pulling his pants back on.

“There’s a lounge at the airport for me to relax in,” Steve replied easily as he tucked his cock back into his boxer briefs and did his fly back up.

Eddie snorted. “You could crash at my apartment if you’re too stingy to spring for a hotel room,” he said with a derisive eye roll, and Steve’s chest squeezed with want.

With a haughty sigh, Steve stood up and fixed his hair in the mirror. “I actually meant to say something before you threw yourself at me,” he said blandly, and Eddie scoffed. Steve met his eyes in the mirror, and to his dismay the rockstar was grinning in a very real way, his dimples deep and easily visible from outer space.

“Oh, so I threw myself at you, did I? The ego—” Eddie started, and Steve looked back at himself in the mirror.

“I think it’s time we stopped this,” he interrupted, and the silence that filled the room was suffocating.

“What?” Eddie asked, his entire tone changing as his voice raised in disbelief. Steve hated to hear the laughter leaving Eddie’s voice, and he loathed himself for being the one to chase it away.

But he wasn’t strong enough to keep this going when he wanted more, wanted too much.

Steve rolled his eyes with a feigned aloofness, knowing Eddie could see the motion in the mirror. “I said,” he explained slowly, as if he was talking to a child, “that I think it’s time we stopped this.”

“Why?” Eddie demanded, and Steve refused to even glance at him in the mirror again, knowing he would crumble the second he did.

“It’s time I actually settled down, started a family. Plan my future,” Steve replied, bringing back his Trust Fund Baby persona that Eddie hated so much at the start of all this.

There’s another short silence. “You’ve… found someone already?” Eddie asked, his tone almost mocking.

“Maybe,” Steve said easily. It wasn’t a complete lie; he did find someone he wanted to settle down with, it just couldn’t happen. “Can’t really pursue that with you sending me dick pics daily,” he added, voice flat and condescending.

“As if I am ever the first one to send jackshit, Harrington,” Eddie snapped viciously, and only then did Steve look at him. The man was furious, eyes wild with his anger and Steve deserved all of it. If Steve was braver, he would face the ridicule for his honesty rather than hide behind the persona curated for his father. Despite the casual nature of their relationship, Eddie deserved better than being lied to.

Then Eddie’s mouth twisted in a sneer as he said, “What the fuck ever. I hope your miserable ever after with whatever bland, good little Christian girl daddy dearest picked out for you is fucking worth it.”

As if realizing he was still naked for all of that—Jesus, Steve really knew how to make a break-up hurt, if it could even be called a break-up—Eddie hurriedly began pulling his pants back on. Steve looked away, letting Eddie get dressed in some semblance of privacy after embarrassing him as much as he had.

When Eddie was done getting dressed, Steve finally looked at him as he paused at the door of the green room.

“I’ll text you and let you know if the coast is clear,” Eddie said coldly, and Steve’s heart ached at how the other man was still going to help keep this a secret. “After that? Forget my number. If I ever see you at one of my shows again, I’ll kick your teeth in.”

That was the last thing Eddie said to him, and then weeks later they were forced to spend an entire evening in relatively close proximity. Well, Steve was forced by virtue of being a Harrington with a campaigning father; Eddie legitimately chose to come, which was definitely deliberate considering the dress, the harness, and the lingerie. Even the make-up was on purpose, since that was what Eddie had been wearing that night in Seattle.

Steve kept his distance as much as he could, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Eddie, watching him make his way through the crowd, being his charismatic self despite his entire get-up. He and his band were the guests of honour that evening, after all. Watching Eddie constantly, though, meant that he was caught doing so, and every time their eyes met, Eddie would scowl darkly at him.

As the night progressed, Eddie’s anger and disdain began to wear on Steve. He felt stupid and selfish for being annoyed, especially with the way he ended things, but really? All of this anger and hatred just for being dumped by a high-risk booty call?

“You okay?” Robin asked as she appeared beside Steve, tangling her fingers in his and giving his hand a squeeze.

With a huge, relieved sigh, Steve pulled her into a loose hug. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… it’s a lot seeing him again,” Steve admitted, just loud enough for her to hear.

Robin hummed. “I ran into him earlier, by the way,” she said after a moment, and at that, Steve pulled back without letting go of her completely.

“Did he say anything to you?” Steve asked and Robin shook her head.

“Not really, asked if I was your fiancée, I was like, ‘according to the tabloids’ and then he looked at me like he wanted me dead,” she replied, raising her eyebrows up at Steve. “You sure he only wanted casual?”

“Of course, he did, Robs,” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would he want more with me of all people?”

Robin just looked up at Steve sadly before she stepped away from him. “You okay if I go grab us a couple drinks?” she asked, deciding in a rare move to let something drop.

“Yeah, Robs, thanks,” he said, meaning more than just the drinks and nodding as she turned to walk away.

When Steve looked back across the room toward Eddie, the man was staring at him, and his expression was wrong. It wasn’t the glare Steve had grown used to over the evening, but he was too far away for Steve to even try to read it. Jolting a bit, as if shocked or burned as he realized Steve was looking at him, Eddie said something to his bandmates before turning on his heel and heading up the staircase.

Before Steve even realized it, he was making his way carefully through the crowd, dodging questions and greetings thrown his way until he reached the stairs.

“Steven, speeches are in twenty minutes,” John warned him as he passed.

Without even glancing at his father, Steve waved over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

Now, as he turned the corner after Eddie, Steve paused near the only open doorway. It was the study, which had a massive built-in bookshelf filled with books Steve was fairly certain no one had ever actually read. There was a light on inside and Steve could hear Eddie muttering. Was Eddie meeting someone else up here? Was Steve about to hear Eddie fucking someone else? That thought filled Steve’s veins with ice, that some creep who was schmoozing downstairs and sneering at Eddie less than five minutes ago would be touching him.

No one at this gala deserved to touch him like that.

Again, Steve reacted before he even realized, storming into the study ready to fight if he had to, just to stop short when he realized that Eddie was alone. Not only was he alone, but he looked close to tears, eyes wide and glassy, his eyelashes shiny with them.

“Eds?” Steve finally managed after several long moments of staring at each other. Eddie sucked in a harsh breath, blinking rapidly as he flinched back, and a tear fell down his cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, shaking his head and wiping the tear away. “Fuck you.”

“What—why are you crying?” Steve asked, but he didn’t have to. Steve might have been slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Because you’re happy. I saw all the stupid magazines, and all the bullshit clickbait, and I was so fucking sure you were miserable,” Eddie laughed bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was an imposing figure, even with the tears in his eyes, clothed in leather and metal, almost his entire body hidden under his armor.

As if reading his thoughts, Eddie opened his arms and gestured down at himself. “I wore this just to—I wanted you to be miserable so fucking much, and that you’d see me and feel even fucking worse,” Eddie bit out through clenched teeth, dropping his hands and staring up at the high ceiling.

Steve stepped closer to Eddie and the rockstar shuffled backward, keeping the same distance between them. “I know I ended things badly, Eddie—”

“See, that’s just it, Steve, you didn’t ‘end things badly,’” Eddie practically snarled with exaggerated scare quotes, storming right up into Steve’s space. “You made me feel like you actually wanted me and then you fucking ripped my heart out. You fucking ruined me, and you just left me and you’re happy. You wanted to settle down, and you’re going to get that, when all I wanted was for you to choose me. Why couldn’t you settle down with me?”

Steve stared at Eddie, wide-eyed and holding his breath, the full realization of how much he fucked up in Seattle crashing down on him. He could feel his own eyes stinging, his vision blurring. Steve could’ve had exactly what he wanted all those months ago if he was just braver, and now it appeared he blew it completely. Something softened at the corners of Eddie’s eyes, even if his mouth stayed set in a severe line.

As the silence persisted between them, Eddie tipped his chin up almost defiantly. “Anything to say? At all?” he asked, condescension clear in his voice, but there was something desperate underneath it, something painfully earnest. Something so close to begging, it hurt Steve’s heart to hear it.

And Steve wanted to say that he was sorry, that he should never have done that, that he was a coward and that he would do anything for a chance to go back and stop himself.

“Do you hate me?” Steve asked finally, and he internally grimaced at how childish that question sounded. It seemed to catch Eddie off-guard as well, his wet eyes widening slightly before he laughed hollowly.

“Jesus H Christ, I wish I did,” Eddie said, and his expression was so deeply sad that Steve wanted to just gather him into his arms. “This would be easier if I hated you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me, Eddie, I don’t—I’m not happy,” Steve confessed breathlessly, blinking rapidly as more tears formed, and one fell down his cheek. “I’ve been as miserable as you wanted me to be. I never stopped wanting you. I wanted so much, and I thought it was too much to ask, so I ended things.”

Eddie’s face twisted into something so full of anger that Steve considered stepping out of swinging range, but Eddie just glared at him. “You didn’t even ask me—”

“No, I didn’t. Because what did I have that you’d want? I’m the closeted queer son of a Republican Congressman and you’re… you,” Steve said, his tone far more reverent than he intended as he gestured to all of him. “You’re free, and loud. Proud of who you are and so fucking brave, Eds. You’re an inspiration to so many, and I just—why would you want me?”

Eddie was looking at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open as all of his righteous, hurt fury left him. Then Eddie shook his head gently and looked at Steve with an expression that was so unbearably soft, he had to fight to not shy away from it.

“You still want that?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper. “Too much?”

“Yes, Eds, I want everything,” Steve breathed, taking a step toward Eddie and lifting a hand to tentatively cup his cheek. This time, Eddie didn’t dodge him or move away, and Steve sighed in relief. “I do want you, to settle down with you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Tipping his chin up in that defiant little nod of his, Eddie took a deep breath through his nose. Steve jolted when cool fingers wrapped around his other wrist and guided his hand to wrap around Eddie’s hip. “Prove it, big boy,” he challenged, his voice low as he tilted his cheek into Steve’s hand.

The hand on Eddie’s cheek immediately shifted until it was tangled into his hair, tilting his head back as Steve crowded him backward against the bookshelf. They hit the shelf with more force than Steve intended, but Eddie only arched his body against Steve harder, eyes wide as he looked up at him. The quiet stretched between them, and Steve stooped as if to kiss the beautiful man in his arms, but he hesitated, still so unsure despite all of Eddie’s confessions.

But then the ghost of a smile, a real one with dimples, twitched the corners of Eddie’s mouth up as he looked at Steve’s lips. When those impossibly dark eyes met his again, Steve was almost too distracted to notice Eddie’s small nod. As Steve leaned down, his lips hovering just above Eddie’s, he savoured the quiet, breathless moment before everything changed again.

In the next breath, their lips were sliding together, gentle and slow, testing the waters as their tongues met in the middle. Sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist, Steve splayed his broad palm and long fingers across his back before grabbing one of the straps of the leather harness. Pulling Eddie in tighter, Steve groaned as he deepened the kiss, licking into the rockstar’s mouth as they clung to each other and rocked their hips together.

Steve pulled back, panting heavily against Eddie’s lips as both of his hands began wandering. “Should we be doing this?” Steve asked, rocking his hardening cock against Eddie’s hip.

“Probably not,” Eddie admitted with a laugh before dragging Steve back into a kiss by his hair. Steve went willingly, sighing as he slipped his hands under Eddie’s dress through the slits, reaching around to grab two handfuls of his perfect ass.

“We should talk,” Steve added, shuddering when his head was pulled back by his hair so Eddie could kiss and bite at his throat.

“We definitely should,” Eddie agreed before lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “And we will, just—please.”

It was the ‘please’ that broke the last of Steve’s restraint. It was the softness of it, the way Eddie’s voice cracked around it, the nearly fearful look in Eddie’s eyes, as if he expected this moment to end just as abruptly as it started. When Eddie said please like that, Steve couldn’t deny him anything.

“Yeah, okay, baby,” Steve breathed, kneading the mostly bare skin of Eddie’s ass before frowning. Squeezing his cheeks again, Steve asked, “Are you wearing assless panties?”

Eddie bit his lips as he smirked mischievously and shrugged. “Technically, I think it’s a jockstrap, but lacy,” he admitted, his face darkening with his blush at the admission.

Groaning thickly, Steve groped his handfuls roughly. “Oh fuck, I have to see this,” he moaned, but when he pulled back and moved to lift the front of the dress, Eddie grabbed his wrists.

“You first,” Eddie whispered against his mouth before kissing him again, and Steve nodded quickly as he returned the kiss sloppily.

Lifting both hands to the shelf on either side of Eddie’s shoulders, Steve waited as patiently as he could, kissing Eddie hungrily as deft fingers undid his belt and fly. When Eddie began shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs, Steve took the hint and toed off his shoes so he could kick his legs free of the garments.

“The coat—lose it,” Eddie demanded, and Steve didn’t hesitate to obey. He removed his blazer clumsily before throwing it vaguely in the direction of the nearby desk. By the time Steve’s hands returned to the shelf, Eddie was fumbling with unbuttoning his shirt. With a grunt, Eddie snapped, “Oh, fuck this.”

Without so much as a pause, Eddie gripped Steve’s shirt on either side of the buttons and yanked, popping every single button off and sending them clattering across the floor. It was hot, leaving Steve breathless with how desperately hungry he was for Eddie. It barely even occurred to Steve that he should be concerned about his shirt being ruined, about how he would return to the gala downstairs without the buttons. When Eddie pressed his hands to Steve’s chest he whined and pushed him back a bit.

“Oh, what the fuck, of course you’re wearing an undershirt,” Eddie complained as he looked down at Steve, his jaw promptly snapping shut with a hard swallow.

Steve felt a bit silly standing there with his cock out in his socks and undershirt, the dress shirt still hanging from his shoulders. He must look ridiculous, especially with the damp patch of sweat on his chest and stomach.

“It’s not fair that you’re somehow hotter when you aren’t even naked,” Eddie grumbled, treating himself to a slow, nearly ravenous look at Steve’s body. His eyes lingered on Steve’s legs, his expression almost pained as he asked, “Steve, are those garter belts for your fucking socks?”

Steve jolted and looked down, shrugging as he looked at the bands around his shins, just below his knees. “Yeah?” he responded, and he hated how lame his response sounded.

“Why?” Eddie asked explosively, and Steve smirked at him as he caught on.

Stepping into Eddie’s space again, Steve slipped a finger under one of the suspenders running down the length of his thigh, pulling it away from his skin a bit. “I think I’m wearing them for the same reason as you, right?” he said teasingly, pressing Eddie back into the bookshelf once again as he released the strap, letting it snap lightly against Eddie’s skin. “To keep your socks up?”

Eddie groaned thickly, arching against Steve desperately. “No, you asshole, I wore mine to drive you in-fucking-sane,” he admitted as he smoothed his hands up Steve’s stomach and onto his chest, thumbing his nipples teasingly through the fabric of his undershirt. When Steve jolted, Eddie let out a breathy chuckle and swept his hands back down to slowly, torturously, push it up past Steve’s chest.

“Well, mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve sighed through another groan as Eddie’s hands resumed playing with his nipples. Groaning, Steve stooped and crushed their lips together, his hands finding their way back under Eddie’s dress to grope his ass again.

“Can you take off your battle jacket, Eds?” he asked breathlessly when he pulled away, and Eddie hesitated, slowly opening his eyes to search Steve’s face. After a moment, Eddie nodded once and reached into a pocket to pull out a chain of condoms and a packet of lube before shrugging the jacket off and tossing it onto the desk nearby.

The sight of Eddie’s shoulders beneath the jacket was captivating; Steve hadn’t realized that the neckline of the dress was so wide he’d have a mostly unobstructed view of Eddie’s shoulders and throat. The only thing that interrupted the pale expanse aside from a couple visible tattoos was the collar of the harness. The sleeves of the dress were long and fit snugly all the way from shoulder to wrist, the dark, stretchy material accentuating the lithe muscle underneath. With a steadying breath, Steve turned his attention to the items Eddie had removed from his pocket, and he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up.

At Steve’s expression, Eddie rolled his eyes and dropped the lube and condoms on the shelf above his shoulder, his cheeks actually turning pink under his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I came prepared to get fucked tonight, and yes, before you ask, I hoped it would be you,” he grumbled in a rush, pulling Steve back against him and tilting his mouth up for a kiss and Steve couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to.

Everything else fell away as their lips moved against each other, desperate and frantic, their teeth clacking together until they found their rhythm with each other again. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth, Steve kissed his way down his cheek and the thick column of his neck, kissing and biting until the pale skin was littered with marks before moving to give the same treatment to Eddie’s shoulders.

Steve would have spent the rest of the evening like that, just kissing and biting until Eddie was so thoroughly marked that neither of them could pretend this was just another meaningless hook-up. Just like Steve had never been completely naked in front of Eddie, they had also successfully refrained from giving each other hickeys, from marking each other up and raising questions.

“Steve, please,” Eddie whined, and Steve sighed at the plaintive cry, rocking his hard cock against Eddie’s. “Fuck, Steve, enough teasing, we don’t have all night.”

Lifting his head, Steve recaptured Eddie’s lips, moaning against him as they ground their cocks together, the only thing separating them being the layers of Eddie’s dress and jockstrap. Fuck, Steve wanted to see him in just the jockstrap, but Eddie was right; they didn’t have all night.

Sliding one hand down the back of Eddie’s thigh, Steve hooked his hand under his knee and lifted his foot off of the ground, directing him to hook the clunky heel of his boot over one of the lower rungs of the ladder next to them. One of Eddie’s hands flew up to hold onto the ladder as well, lifting himself up just enough to wrap his other leg around Steve’s waist. It was frenzied as they made out and rutted against each other like that, moaning filthily into each other’s mouths.

Reaching down between them, Steve quickly pulled the front section of the dress out of the way, tossing the fabric over Eddie’s leg before looking down at the lace jockstrap. The sound that left him at the sight of the sheer fabric straining around the bulge of Eddie’s hard cock would have been embarrassing if Steve had the capacity to care about anything beyond fucking Eddie. There was a shiny, wet spot on the red lace at the tip of Eddie’s cock that Steve desperately wanted to taste, to wrap his lips around the head through the fabric and suck and lap at the precum that formed there.

Groaning, Steve shifted one of his hands on Eddie’s ass, slipping his fingers deeper and froze as his fingertips found the flared base of a plug. The thought of Eddie walking around the entire night with a plug in his ass was something Steve would be revisiting in his dreams repeatedly, he was sure.

“Jesus, Eds,” Steve practically growled against Eddie’s mouth, hooking his fingers under the flare and tugging at the toy, just to hear Eddie whimper. “You’ve actually been wearing this all night?”

“Already told you, was ready to be fucked,” Eddie gasped, his eyelids fluttering as Steve pulled on the plug a bit more deliberately until it popped free of his hole. Steve happily swallowed the cry that spilled from Eddie’s throat, groaning as he pressed two fingers into his twitching, slick hole. The sound that ripped from Eddie was wounded, high and reedy and nearly sad, and Eddie dropped his head back against bookshelf. “Please, Stevie, don’t be a fucking tease.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you, baby,” Steve breathed, and when he tried to put some space between them to put a condom on, Eddie’s leg tightened around his waist. “I can’t put the condom on like this.”

“Forget the condom, just fuck me,” Eddie demanded, and Steve chuckled sadly.

There was a time when they could just do that because despite the allegedly casual nature of their relationship, they were both exclusively sleeping with each other. At the time, they both explained it away as being too busy and too famous to mess around with more people. In hindsight, it was all stupidly obvious they were both in it far deeper than they were willing to admit. Steve hadn’t been able to get back out in the scene since the split-up in Seattle—hell, he hadn’t even been looking for anything when Eddie had fallen into his lap the first time either, months ago at a different charity event, at the start of his father’s campaign. But Steve couldn’t expect Eddie to have stayed celibate, too.

“Eds, we haven’t—” Steve started, and Eddie looked him directly in the eye.

“I haven’t fucked anyone since our Seattle show,” he said meaningfully, his gaze unwavering. “Have you been tested?”

Steve let out a soft, sad sound, faced again with how badly he hurt Eddie, how poorly he read the entire situation. He’d truly done a number on Eddie, and Steve thanked whatever higher power that was listening for his second chance.

“Haven’t been with anyone since Seattle either,” Steve said, leaning forward to kiss Eddie’s lips sweetly.

Eddie scoffed at that and turned his face away, but Steve could tell he was grinning behind his hair. Grabbing the lube, Steve tried to pull back again so he could slick his cock up properly, but Eddie was still clinging to him too tightly.

“C’mon, Eds, just let me get my cock nice and slick, then you’ll have me, okay?” Steve sighed against Eddie’s ear, living for the way the man shuddered and moaned.

When his leg loosened enough for Steve to rock back, he poured a liberal amount of lube over his cock. Before Steve could finish putting the lube back on the shelf, one of Eddie’s cool hands wrapped around his cock. The moan that was punched out of him was deep and guttural, the sensation of a partner—of Eddie touching him again, fingers of a guitarist and clunky rings driving Steve wild.

Before Steve could really register it, he was fucking Eddie’s tight fist, pressing breathless, open-mouthed kisses against the sharp line of his jaw and groaning. Distantly, Steve could feel the touch changing, that Eddie wasn’t squeezing him as tightly, and then the head of his cock was nudging just behind Eddie’s sac, sliding further back and catching on the rim of his hole. On one pass, his cock slipped inside, just the tip, and Eddie dragged him closer with his leg around Steve’s waist.

Eddie’s cry as he was filled, hard and fast, was loud in the quiet of the study and Steve struggled to hold still, groaning thickly at the tight, perfect heat around him. Part of him wanted to take, the way he knew Eddie loved it, the way they would always have it before. But this was different, Steve knew that just on principle, but there was a certain charge to the air that brought tears to his eyes. Steve would wait a thousand years before moving if Eddie asked him to.

A cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, smearing lube across his stubbled jaw and lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s again.

Eddie’s eyes were shiny and bright in the dimly lit room, tears collecting on his lower lashes and so close to falling, his kiss-bitten, red lips hanging open and panting.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathed, the corners of his mouth ticking upward in something close to a smile, even as the next fluttering blink had the tears barely clinging to his lashes falling down his cheeks.

And Steve was helpless, staring up at the beautiful man in his arms, and he had to blink his own tears away as they blurred his vision. “Eds,” he said, not even bothering to hide just how awed and overwhelmed he was to have Eddie like this again. Steve made a promise to himself that he would make up for every single day he made this man feel unwanted, unworthy, unloved.

As if hearing his thoughts, Eddie sobbed and dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder, pushing his undershirt aside to brush his thumb over a spot just below his collarbone—Eddie’s favourite freckle, the one that looked like a heart. 

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie whimpered after a few moments of breathless staring, lowering his lips to hover over Steve’s.

“I love you, Eds,” Steve gasped immediately, breathless with the intensity of his feelings, and closed the distance between their lips.

They slotted together perfectly, Steve buried to the hilt inside him, their mouths moving languidly against each other while Eddie adjusted. After what felt like only a few seconds, Eddie lifted himself as much as he could before dropping back down on Steve’s cock with another cry.

It was as if a dam broke. The pace was frantic, fast, brutal even with Steve’s desperation and Eddie’s willing body, the sounds of bare skin slapping together filling the study and likely perfectly audible from the hallway if anyone wandered in this direction.

“Steve, Stevie, fu—fuck, Stevie, so good,” Eddie sobbed brokenly against Steve’s lips, not even pulling back to try and get a hand between them to touch himself. “Already so close, been so close all night. Please, Stevie, give it to me.”

“Gonna, baby, promise,” Steve gasped, and when Eddie’s hand flew up to hold onto a higher shelf, he reached up to tangle their fingers together. “Gonna give you everything you want, forever, never letting you go without ever again.”

Eddie sobbed and nodded furiously. “Damn right you a—ah, fuck, you are,” Eddie whimpered, readjusting his grip on the ladder to meet Steve’s thrusts, sweet little sounds getting punched out of him with every snap of their hips. “Never getting rid of me.”

“Perfect,” Steve grunted, the coil in his gut pulling taut as his release barreled forward. He could feel the way Eddie was clenching around him, knew he was barely hanging on, trying to outlast Steve.

“I’m your—oh! Your problem now,” Eddie added, throwing his head back with a shuddery cry as Steve changed the angle of his thrusts a bit.

“I’m yours, too,” Steve sighed almost dreamily as he thought about it, of a future together, maybe living out in Seattle in the eccentric little apartment Steve had only seen snapshots of in the various selfies Eddie had sent him. Of growing old together. Tears stung Steve’s eyes, which he tried to blink away again but there were too many. “I’m your problem, too,” he repeated weakly, his movements growing erratic as his release boiled in his gut.

“Yeah, yes, Stevie! Mine, you’re mine, mine,” Eddie keened, pulling his hand away from Steve’s so he could hold his cheek, wiping the tears from Steve’s cheek. “Say it, Stevie. What are you?”

“Yours,” Steve breathed, eyes rolling back as he willed his release back.

Eddie’s brief composure shattered, and he let out a loud whimper. “And what am I, Stevie?”

“Mine,” Steve answered immediately and angled his cock just so, driving the head of it directly over Eddie’s prostate and sending him tumbling over the edge with a surprisingly quiet cry considering how noisy he had been. Though Steve wasn’t looking, he could tell Eddie made a mess of them already, could feel the hot spend through the lace against his lower abdomen. 

The tight heat of Eddie’s core spasming and clenching around Steve’s cock was the last straw. Steve only managed a few more sloppy thrusts before he was coming, hips flush against Eddie’s ass and spilling his cum deep inside him.

They clung to each other while they caught their breath for what felt like hours, kissing each other slow and sweet, practically chaste after everything else they had done together. Eventually, Eddie pulled away, tipping his head back to look down at Steve, biting his lip and grinning.

“Can you say it again?” Eddie asked after a bit, his voice shaking nervously.

Steve grinned up at Eddie, lifting a hand to cup his cheek gently. “I’m yours, you’re mine,” he sighed dreamily. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna survive this,” Eddie half-laughed, half-sobbed as tears filled his eyes all over again. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

It was that moment when they heard a gasp from the doorway of the study, and Steve froze. Eddie held onto him, not letting him pull away, but also not letting him turn around.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer, sweetheart,” Eddie sneered, and whoever it was just squeaked and quickly retreated from the room.

Steve took a slow breath in through his nose. “Who was that?” he asked slowly, watching Eddie’s face closely as he grimaced.

“Listen, I’ve met her only twice, and both times I was distracted by you—”

“It was my dad’s assistant, wasn’t it?” Steve asked flatly and Eddie cringed.

“Yep,” Eddie confirmed, chewing his lip nervously.

Steve sighed, and nodded, and he was thankful there was an event happening downstairs because that was the only reason John wasn’t already storming into the room.

“What’re we gonna do?” Eddie asked, and Steve smiled up at him, willing his nerves away.

“Let’s go back to my place. Get you all cleaned up, maybe make love to you in a bed for once? Perhaps wake up next to you in the morning?” Steve suggested, grinning broader as Eddie flushed and turned his face away.

“I meant right now, Steve,” Eddie said, shifting where he was still pinned against the bookshelf.

“Yeah, so did I,” Steve said, his expression softening. “Seriously, Eds, let’s go back to my place.”

“You’re just—You’re okay going down there? With your dipshit dad probably knowing about us?” Eddie asked incredulously, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yep. No time like the present to get disowned, right?” Steve said, and even if he worded it like a joke, he was dead serious. Eddie seemed to believe Steve this time, and a smile split his face.

“As if your piece of shit dad won’t figure out a way to spin this for his campaign,” Eddie teased and lowered his mouth to Steve’s for a slow, contented kiss. When Eddie pulled back, he grinned mischievously. “You should wear my coat out, and I’ll wear yours.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he nodded quickly. “You’re a genius, Eds,” he sighed, leaning up to recapture Eddie’s lips.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

[doobea]

KISS ME THRU THE PHONE - ISAGI YOICHI

synopsis: in which Isagi texts the wrong number and things kinda go downhill.

TWELVE - A melody stuck in my head. -> MASTERLIST contents: fem!reader, college au, fake dating, strangers to lovers, he fell first but you fell harder, generally sfw, different povs, isagi is putting in WORK, and we love his supportive friend group, its very 2010s vibes in terms of romance and i honestly love it word count: 1.8K a/n: woo first written portion out of like two? smau texts towards the end hehe but overall this is super tooth-rotting fluff

It's been maybe 30 minutes tops. But Chigiri convinces you that it's been well over an hour. The time frames that you guys throw out are strikingly different because there's no way that you see yourself spending over an hour deciding which color to buy for a dress that may or may not be out of your tax bracket.

Rin looks up from his phone when his name gets called out. He's sitting in the designated 'man cave' area of the women's department store, which is just two sofas surrounded by large photo frames of stereotypical shirtless men in their boxers. Super manly and definitely not catered toward single mothers.

"Have you guys decided on something?" He quirks a brow.

"No," You miss the frown on Rin's face as you shove the same two dresses in front of him again. "Hyoma says it's been over an hour but that's impossible!"

"It has been." Chirigi purses his lips and tries his best to hold back any signs of annoyance because, at the end of the day, he was the one who was adamant about you going to the mall in the first place. Going to the mall specifically to buy an outfit for your fake confession that's going to happen in front of the entire football team later this week.

"It hasn't, Hyo." Your tone is certain.

Rin clears his throat and shuts his phone off. "Actually, it has. You've been showing us the same two dresses for this entire outing."

Your cheeks heat from embarrassment and you clutch the dresses to your chest. "Even if an hour has passed, it's still a hard decision." Or are you just making it hard on yourself? You're not really sure.

Chirigi sighs before resting a hand on your shoulder. "Never knew you would be down this bad for a crush."

There's no protest from you, just awkward fidgeting and debating if it was even a good idea to bring your friends with you in the first place. Before you can come up with an answer, your phone rings with a familiar blue heart flashing across the screen.

You don't know the face you're making right now, but judging from the smirk Chirigi and Rin throw at you, you know it's probably not a 'cool, stoic, totally not blushing' look. Finally, you put the white dress back on the clothing rack and briskly walk to the other side of the store and away from your nosy best friends. Blue looks better on you anyway.

"Hey!" You try to attempt to be super casual.

"Hey?" Isagi replies back, sounding more confused than anything.

There's an awkward pause before Isagi continues. "Aah, you don't have to go out of your way to dress up, you know that right?"

And there it is. You want to crawl into the nearest trash can and disappear for the rest of the day.

Isagi stares intensely at his phone and shifts through his curated playlist. He's been playing every song out loud in the living room for the past few minutes, seemingly unaware of his own roommate trying to study a few feet away.

Isagi hums and closes his eyes as he listens to the current song playing, trying to envision if it was 'right' for the planned moment, before skipping it entirely with a heavy sigh.

"That's not it either."

He does this process again with another generic romance song from the early 2000s. The beat is catchy, he's not sure if he likes the vocals, and the lyrics are a little bit suggestive. Maybe this song is too much, he decides. And skips to the next one.

Rinse and repeat.

Again, Isagi fails to notice a very tired-out Reo by the kitchen table with his own set of headphones on, tapping away at his laptop with at least three cups of coffee at his side and wearing a very grim expression. Suddenly, Isagi feels something small but hard hit the back of his head.

"Hey, what the hell—"

"Take that shit elsewhere, some people have exams coming up!"

"Sorry, sorry!" Isagi rushes up to his feet and takes his belongings, flashing his roommate a genuine apologetic smile. "I'll let you do your thing."

"Good," Reo's voice hardens immediately, and readjusts his focus back on his screen again. This only lasts approximately ten seconds because Isagi pops by his side with his playlist in Reo's face. "Oh my god what—"

"This song?" Isagi plays a quick sample before switching over. "Or this song?"

"Just fucking sing to her at this point."

"What? That's an awful idea, Reo."

Rin has lost count of just how many times you've paced back and forth in your bedroom. He thinks it's 25. Chirigi is lying down on your mattress with one of your romance books in his hands and almost yawning at this point because of course you can't decide on what shoes to wear with your blue dress.

Rin adjusts his position as he sits by your vanity and starts playing with some of your self-care items. He thinks he's touching a beauty blender or whatever they're called. It's squishy.

"Not to sound dramatic or anything," Chigiri begins as he flips a page over. "But at this rate, we might miss the football game."

You groan and look over your shoulder. "You do sound dramatic."

Not dramatic at all, Rin wants to say.

Isagi had sent out a text to a shared group chat earlier in the week about the starting time for the football match — 5:30pm is when warm-ups start and then 6:00pm is when the match begins. He then texted both Rin and Chigiri that he'll whip out his 'master plan' around 7:45pm near the locker rooms.

The digital clock on your desk reads 5:45 and you're still fidgeting around. Chigiri is slightly annoyed but won't outwardly say it to your face. Rin thinks it's cute seeing you fluster over a guy. And he feels at ease knowing that Isagi is willing to go out of his way with all these elaborate plans just to make sure you feel safe and comfortable.

"Mhm, I hope a wedding happens," Rin mumbles. It doesn't catch your or Chigiri's attention because when he looks up from your vanity, Chigiri throws a pair of white sandal platforms in your arms.

"Please, for the love of god, let's leave now."

"Fine! I was just gonna pick them out too!"

The football match ends with a grand finale goal scored by none other than Isagi Yoichi. Even if he didn't make the goal, the team would've won regardless since the score was up by three additional points. The scene looks straight out of one of those cheesy sports movies where the whole team runs onto the field and tackles the main character, screaming and cheering a bunch of incoherent sounds to celebrate their victory. Add some Gatorade, cheerleaders doing their chants, a little bit of crowd surfing, and end scene.

Isagi looks happy, maybe even fucking ecstatic, despite being covered in sweat and you're positive that he feels on top of the world when he searches the crowd and locks his gaze onto yours.

You shrink into the bleachers and cover your warm cheeks with your hands. You kinda hate how he has this effect on you. "He's looking at me!"

"No surprise there," Rin chews mindlessly on an overpriced pretzel that he got from a vendor earlier. "Have any idea how he's gonna do it?"

"Oh my god, no! Should I be worried? What if I look dumb? Does my hair look okay? How about—"

"You look great," Chirigi reassures with a gentle pat on your head. "Get ready, it looks like he's getting his things from the locker room now."

You still have no idea what dumb song he decided on. Or if he actually went out and brought you flowers and some dumb pieces of chocolate. Or, even worse, he scraped the original plan and hopped back onto Reddit of all places for more unwarranted advice. Regardless of what Isagi decides, he's going to leave you a blushing mess by the end of the night.

You snap out of your thoughts when your best friends nudge you out of your seat.

"Let's meet up with them, I think I see him carrying the speaker." Rin peers into the distance.

Chigiri stands up and almost laughs. "Looks like he has some backup dancers too."

"He has what now?"

The team finishes their group huddle for the night by the locker rooms. The conversation consists of unwarranted butt slaps from his teammates and a whole lot of 'do that again next season'.

Isagi overhears his captain bragging about how many fangirls were cheering for him from the stands tonight and looks away to roll his eyes. He feels a combination of heated insults forming on his tongue but that disappears when he feels Bachira's crushing weight on his back.

"Are we ready yet?" His friend chirps.

"Ready is an understatement," Isagi flashes a grin before pulling out his phone and boombox from his gym bag. "Let's show Aiku what we're made out of."

"Hey," Isagi looks over his shoulders to see Reo and Nagi carrying the gifts he had brought earlier, a bouquet of light blue roses, a small teddy bear charm, and a box of chocolates. "Don't fuck this up."

"Wouldn't dream of it." He grins carelessly, but there's a weight to his words.

They get into formation when Isagi sees you walking over. He couldn't make out your outfit during the game and frankly thought you weren't going to dress up at all, but when you're within an arm's length away, he feels his breath getting stuck in his throat. You look absolutely stunning in his eyes, and he feels slightly bad for putting you on the spot and having everyone see you in this way. He selfishly wishes that it's a private confession.

Isagi clears his throat before pressing 'play'. As soon as he hears the first note, he starts his speech. Bachira, Reo, and Nagi shuffle awkwardly back and forth, waving their phones around with the flashlight on as the whole football team, and you included, gawks in silence.

"Shawty's like a melody in my head That I can't keep out, got me singin' like Na na na na everyday"

"Honestly, it feels surreal to be doing this right now since this all started from a wrong number a few weeks ago." Isagi finds himself struggling to find his words when he meets your eyes but he manages to push through and stick with his script. "I look forward to sending you good morning texts every day and I find myself smiling more whenever I'm with you. You're everything that I find myself wanting and I would love it if you came to formal with me."

TAGLIST

@fabitheraven, @froggie-zusya23, @rroxii,@anurst,@silly-ez, @userwithlotsoftime, @tiniewife, @zeld6lvr, @macspov, @plopify, @urluvvdommm, @theweirdfloatything, @shironagi, @avogigi, @limerence-lu, @exatse, @cloooudmilk, @keijiqahara, @kakie @xacgrx @reiners-milkbiddies @arxliana @lazyogurt @kaitfae @yuxame @keiitsune @ch3nyan @ll-seishu @qwertyblo @mellozhi @y-sabell-a @izumi-astra-123 @blissblossom @slay0368 @hanniejji @mimikage @yoichiislovie @stwberri @wooasecret @faeroow @yuzurins @celestair @ascybous @satoruskitchenrag @laavatron @lupinandout @yoisami @softfor-svtptg @nymphsdomain @astro-pioneer @kunikame

a/n: hehe the song he plays is "Replay by Iyaz". the songs he was debating over are all listed in his playlist. could u imagine if isagi plays "hey daddy (daddy's home)" while confessing??? poor y/n would die!! anyways i think there is one more chapter left hehe sorry for the late update - life's been hectic atm!

[bordysbae]

this town - trevor zegras

summary: as you roam the busy streets of chicago, you run into a painfully familiar new york born boy who’s currently living on the west coast.

roughly inspired by this town by niall horan! so feel free to play that song while you read if you want!

trying a new format?! also hi i’m popping in to write a little something for no reason :) this is definitely not my best work but ohhh well

—

as you dodge the little pieces of trash on the concrete, your headphones rest upon your ears playing all kinds of music you love. the tote bag resting on your shoulder holds all kinds of clutter, which is something nearly everyone teases you for. the only person who never teased you for it was trevor. it used to be his favorite thing. he loved how you always had things like tangled earbuds you’d never used crumpled at the bottom, or even a book you’d barely even opened since you bought it resting in your bag.

you and trevor were practically the it couple of plymouth high school, but that was until you guys ended a month after he got drafted. you found out when he’d gone to development camp in anaheim, he kissed another girl at a bar with his new teammates. it broke you to pieces, but what you didn’t know was that it broke trevor even more. you swore to never speak to him again, and you’ve kept that promise. you moved out of michigan for college, and you’ve been thriving. chicago is treating you well, and so has northwestern. you’ve avoided anything trevor related for as long as possible. skipping past any ducks games on tv, even if it’s your favorite team against them.

while your beat up converse pad across the street and your ripped jeans hug you perfectly, you notice all of the tourists surrounding you. you also notice a large group of boys around your age walking your way. as you get closer, your breath hitches. it feels like the entire world stops when you see him, and suddenly your feet bring you to a halt. your head hesitantly turns around, and so does his. the people walking behind you groan at your sudden stop and walk around you, as you stand there in shock. trevor’s group of friends notice he’s no longer walking with them and turn around to see what he’s doing. his action in question being staring at you.

“y/n, hi,” he says breaking the awkward silence.

“trevor,” you softly say.

“how’ve you been? how’s chicago?”

“it’s amazing. i love it,” you say as you begin to fidget with your fingers.

“i’m glad. i know you were nervous to start college,” he says with a small smile curling at the corners of his lips. suddenly he gasps, “i’m so sorry guys, i’m so rude! this is y/n. y/n meet some of my teammates!”

you quickly realize these are most likely the same guys who pressured him into cheating on you, and you get even more upset at the situation. “hi,” you say with a fake smile. one of the boys speak up after a few silent moments, “hey z we’re gonna go back to the hotel, take your time catching up,” the darker haired boy says. trevor nods at the boy and turns back to you.

“so, what are you doing in chicago?” you ask.

“oh we have a game tomorrow night against the blackhawks. are you gonna go?”

“i have schoolwork trevor, not everyone got out of college the easy way,” you chuckle, and trevor rolls his eyes.

“hey do you maybe uh, want to get coffee? or something?” trevor asks as his hand rubs the back of his neck. your heart falls into your stomach as memories flood. memories of when he told you what had happened in anaheim, in your guys favorite coffee shop. he barely even looked upset when he told you, just like how he looks perfectly fine with seeing you now. no guilt? nothing?

“i uh, i really need to go. it was great seeing you though,” you say as you begin to walk away. no matter how many white lies you tell, you truthfully haven’t been the same without trevor, but apparently he’s been just fine.

—

it’s a restful evening, but a knock on your apartment door startles you. as you slowly approach the door, and look through the small peephole, you see trevor. he’s stood there with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. you sigh and open the door, “trevor? how did you find my apartment?”

“don’t worry about it, okay? i’m just here to apologize.”

“apologize for what?”

“everything,” his tongue darts out to lick his lips as he pauses his sentence.

“trevo-“ you begin, but he cuts you off. “shh, let me explain okay?” he says and you nod, meanwhile taking the flowers from his arms.

“i was so young and so stupid back then. i never realized just exactly what i’d be losing and how much it would impact me. waking up without knowing you’re apart of my life kills me more and more. as cheesy as it sounds, it’s true, y/n.”

your wide variety of emotions make you unable to find the right words, but eventually you’re able to string out a sentence. “why are you here now? why years later? you’ve known i’ve been in chicago. why are you just now telling me this?”

“because i wanted to so badly respect your choice. i know you’ve been avoiding me, and i don’t blame you. i mean we live across the country, sure, but there’s so many forms of communication, yet you never reached out. so i figured you were avoiding me, and i wanted to respect that. but now that i’ve seen you in person, i couldn’t help but feel that this is what’s right. no matter where i go, or who i’m with, it’s like i’m constantly chasing your shadow down the street. i always look for a little bit of you in everyone. everything always comes back to you.”

[elisela]

‘this is my husband/boyfriend/partner etc.’ + NurseyDex

that's mine nurseydex, alternating pov

.

Nursey goes flying. Headfirst into the goal, arms flailing, Will thinks he hears a yelp sort of flying. He only resists the urge to roll his eyes because Bitty’s looking right at him and he doesn’t want a lecture. 

Still—when one of the assholes on the other team barks out a laugh and says, “Who was that, Bambi?”, Will can’t help but sigh.

“That’s my teammate, asshole,” he says, and cuts over to check him against the boards. 

—

Derek misses the days that the frogs were wide-eyed and respectful in the Haus. These kids—he’s going to need some sense knocked into them soon. They’re loud, rowdy, and far too interested in integrating into the group by joining in on the teasing, which is a right they have not yet earned.

Like now, when they’re giggling to themselves and looking at him.

“So—” one of them starts, smirking, and never finishes.

“So,” Derek repeats, jerking his thumb at Dex, “that’s my roommate.”

The laughter grates on his nerves, but not as much as pretending he doesn’t care about sharing a room with Dex.

—

Nursey is … singing? Will thinks that’s what he’s trying to do at least, and he’s heard him sing almost every day in the shower so the warbling coming out of his mouth is surprising. He’s not saying Nursey is good by any means, but he can sound decent with the right song and this … this is not the right song.

He doubts the fact that all the words being slurred thanks to being absolutely trashed is helping.

Will stays at the bar until the song is done, resolutely facing away from the somewhat dimly-lit karaoke stage so he doesn’t get dragged into participating. Luckily—or not, considering Ransom and Holster seem to have disappeared so the drunken idiot is now his responsibility—Nursey doesn’t say anything when he comes crashing up to the bar except, “Tequila shots?”

Will can barely understand him, but the look on his face—the one that appears whenever Nursey thinks he’s had a particularly good idea—speaks volumes. “Water,” he says firmly, sliding a waiting pint glass over. 

He really doesn’t understand whatever Nursey mumbles then, but he has more pressing problems, because his lap—previously empty of everything except his coat—is now occupied. “Jesus,” he mutters, trying to wiggle away. “Dude—Nursey—”

“S’comfy,” Nursey says, and Will tries once more to get him to move to his own seat with no avail.

The bartender, when she returns, gives Will a raised eyebrow. “He bothering you? I can get him out.”

Will sighs. “He’s a friend,” he says, and adds, “so he pretty much bothers me all the time.”

“Ya love me, pretty boy,” Nursey says. He starts to laugh—at what, Will has no clue—but it makes him wiggle in a way that Will isn’t sure he’s entirely comfortable with, and Nursey goes sliding to his own seat after another shove.

“Shut up and drink your water,” Will says, and motions to close their tab.

—

“That’s Jack,” Derek says, nudging his grandmother and pointing at the television, where Jack is leaning on the boards and chatting with the coach. “He’s on the Falconers.”

“I’m rooting for them,” she says, and tuts when Derek makes an aborted noise. “Hush, you don’t get to choose who I like. Is he a defender?”

Derek’s been playing hockey most of his life and every time he watches a game with his grandma it’s like she’s never heard of the sport before. “No, he’s not a defenseman,” he says. God help him, he’s never going to get through this game alive. 

The shot switches to a close-up and she hums. “Handsome.”

Derek shrugs. Jack’s fine, he supposes. A bit too bland for him, nothing that really stands out, not like—”And that’s Dex—Will—over there, in the white. Will—he’s my—” he swallows a bit too hard.

“If you think I haven’t figured out you like men and women, Derek, we’re going to need to have a conversation regarding your assumptions about my intelligence.”

He wonders if God would actually strike him down if he prayed hard enough. “He’s my boyfriend, Gram,” he says, staring resolutely at the television.

She hums again. “That Jack is more handsome though, don’t you think?”

It’s going to be a long game.

—

Will’s trying to hide. Table at the back, hat still on and pulled down low, black hoodie and black jeans. Anything to make himself blend into the background, because he doesn’t want to be caught dead here.

He also doesn’t want to be involved in any conversations, not that the girls at the table next to him have picked up on that. He’d made two fatal errors: being cordial when one of them had said hello, and admitting he’s never been to an open-mic poetry night.

They haven’t stopped talking to him since. 

“Okay, this guy—I’m not sure he’s your type, you know? Not that you aren’t like, super intelligent—I mean you’re here, right, so obviously—but he has a lot of heavy themes in his work if you really dig in and you really need to hear them a few times to peel back the layers. I’m hoping he reads the tree above the grave again, it’s—”

She cuts off, finally, when a cough sounds from the front and Derek begins to speak. There’s utter silence while he recites words that Will’s heard a hundred times over in various iterations, tweaked and stressed and polished until he could probably say them in his sleep, then an excited outburst of conversation among applaus when it’s over.

“Amazing, right?” she says, and keeps talking while Will nods. “Have you heard of him before?”

Will looks at her. “He’s the one I came for,” he answers honestly, grinning for the first time all night when he sees Derek making his way over. “He’s my husband.”

[skipppppy]

CARMEN SANDIEGO CHARACTERS + MOVIES

Boo I felt like making headcanons again bc I spend more time wondering what these assholes do in their free time than I do on my job

CARMEN

Didn’t have access to movies growing up so Player, Zack, and Ivy have been catching her up on the most popular ones

HORRIBLE to watch with. Doesn’t really understand “suspension of disbelief” as a concept and will ask stupid questions the whole time. Player almost ended their friendship because she nitpicked Lord of the Rings for being “unrealistic”

Enjoys low stakes 2000s girl chick flicks like mean girls and legally blonde. She has enough stress in her life man she just wants to relax

HATES heist movies because of how innacurate they are. Team Red has taken to watching them JUST to hear her pick them apart

PLAYER

Sci-fi/fantasy junkie. Anything and everything that has aliens/magic and shitty practical effects from the 80’s/90’s he is all over

Has never said a single kind thing about the Star Wars franchise in his life. They are his favourite movies of all time

ADORES Edgar Wright and has slowly been converting Team Red to his movies. Zack loved Baby Driver. Ivy loved Shaun of the Dead. Shadowsan loved Hot Fuzz. He considers Scott Pilgrim the pinnacle of Canadian cinema

Cannot STAND the amount of remakes happening in Hollywood recently

ZACK

Canon enjoyer of blockbuster action movies. Everyone dreads the nights when he gets to choose a film bc his taste is so generic

Does not know what the Snyder cut is. Thank god

His only redeeming quality is a love of early dreamworks. Will not stop quoting Madnagascar

Has seen every Marvel movie and thinks all of them are good. Player has BEGGED him to watch better movies but he won’t. He’s the type to rag on Scorsese for being “boring”

Has seen Kevin Feige’s extended filmography. Does not know who that man is

IVY

Horror fanatic

Banned from choosing movies for film night after convincing them to watch her “favourite lesbian romcom” with her. That lesbian romcom was Saw

Ellen Ripley was not only her personal hero but also her gay awakening. The Xenomorph queen was her second gay awakening

Also loves period dramas. Enjoys the tiddies and knows she would look SO good in those fancy waistcoats the men wear

Watches old slashers with Carmen and laugh whenever someone dies in a stupid way

SHADOWSAN

Faculty considered movies “low brow” entertainment so he hasn’t seen a movie made before the year 2000

Loves a good mob flick. Got into Scorsese specifically because Zack hated him. Goodfellas is his favourite

Everyone assumes he enjoys samurai movies but he actually HATES them. Hideo would ramble about historical inaccuracies the whole way through and he’s still bored just thinking about it

Used to love Yakuza films back in the day but they were soured for him after actually living as one

Loved Knives Out, found Daniel Craig VERY attractive, and has since fallen down the James Bond rabbit hole

CHASE

The most pretentious film hack you’ve ever met in your life. He is taking you to a back alley screening of some arthouse eastern european gay porn on a first date and it will be the most profound thing you’ve ever seen in your life

Detective noir movies and cheesy black and white romances are his favourites. He likes falling asleep to them

He and Player both appreciate animation as a form of cinema, but while Player is referring to like. the Mario movie, Chase is talking about some 3 minute Russian stopmotion surrealist piece from 1951. He attends Annecy every year and has been banned from the Oscars due to threats of violence

He likes Poirot tho. Transmasc king

JULIA

If she has a few hours to herself she’d rather watch a documentary than go to a movie theatre, but she loves historical dramas

Enjoys biopics but thinks it’s stupid to make them for people who are alive

Likes watching movies for the sake of trash talking them, so she is the only person who can tolerate sitting through one with Carmen

LOVES Wes Anderson though. Chase got her into his stuff and the symmetry scratches an itch in her brain. But don’t tell him that

Also enjoys period dramas for the tiddies

CHIEF

Shitty cop movie enjoyer. The kind of person who insists that Die Hard is her favourite christmas movie

LOVES heist movies because of how inaccurate they are. Will mentally nitpick whatever secret service is going after them and be like “ACME wouldn’t do that lol”

She’s semi aware that she’s the antoagonist in Carmen’s own heist narrative so she’s started having fun with it

Closet lover of b-tier comedy movies. Like the ones with Adam Sandler and Kevin Hart on the cover

Does not enjoy watching movies socially. That is quality time for her and her cat. She does not have to shush Commander