#obviously i’m keeping all of this inside and on here because i’d rather die than let my shittiness affect them

[thin-line-between-us]

Morals

Alexis Drazen x Reader

A story in which an overworked nurse gets herself into a tricky situation by being kind

Word count: 2956

Pt. 1 of what might become a series

This is set in a world where Elizabeth did less damage to his insides than in the show

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November nights in California were not particularly cold, but you’d never catch me outside without at least a sweater, which is exactly what I threw on over my surprisingly clean scrubs before leaving the cold, sanitary confines of my job. 24 hour shifts were not a regular occurrence, but we were understaffed for a week now and sometimes you had to take one for the team. My eyelids felt heavy and driving home felt almost unsafe in this condition. Coffee, the thought popped up as I was about to leave the break room after collecting a few stray things. Was it the best coffee in town? God no, sometimes it looked like someone had poured dirty water in the pot and called it a day. It did have its perks though; it was highly caffeinated and acted fast enough that by the time I left the elevator my mood had been slightly lifted.

“Where is he?! I swear he was here a few minutes ago, he shouldn’t even be able to walk yet” The commotion on the other end of the hallway caused me to pick up my stride towards the exit in case it was something horrid enough to keep me here even a minute longer and away from my warm shower and fresh comfortable clothes. A gust of wind hit me right in the face as I stepped outside and it was so nice to finally be away from everything and everyone. 

The parking lot was almost empty now, but it sure wasn’t when I came to work and I cursed myself for not looking to park closer. Turning the corner to where I parked my car I was met with an ass. Quite literally. First thing I see is a man in a hospital gown that had obviously been put on haphazardly as his whole backside was exposed due to someone forgetting the second tie. I looked him up and down for a few seconds before realization hit me. 

“If you’re trying to rob me or steal my car, you have very poor taste. The on-call doctor’s car was like 50 feet behind me and it’s a lot more valuable, plus he’s kind of a douche so I won’t tell” I said as I was still standing a safe distance away from the now startled man. I could see him tense and turn around so fast I spilled some coffee on myself from his sudden movement making me flinch. I knew I wasn’t in any danger the moment he grabbed his forehead and fell on his knees, the blood seeping into the front of his gown now much more visible to me under the barely there lights. At that point instinct kicked in and I lunged at him, forgetting he might still be armed “Whoa there buddy, let's get you back inside before you do something the people inside can’t fix alright?” but whilst I grabbed him to help him up he kept me firmly down by him and I had a moment of clarity that this might’ve been a bad idea.

“I’m not going back inside, I’d rather die here” was all I got as a response before he looked up. He had no anger or crazy in his eyes and I’ve seen both before, they looked like he had given up. He loosened his grip on me and sat back against my car but I no longer had the urge to run, he needed help and I knew I was going to be the said help unless I wanted him to take his last breath right here in this parking lot. “Okay we don’t have to go back in there, is there anywhere else I can take you? Preferably another hospital because you do need medical attention and the sooner the better” I tried to talk softly since he did have what seemed like a scalpel in his hand which he most likely used to attempt a break in mere moments ago. “I… don’t think so. No place that will be safe for me” shit, shit, shit was all that was running through my mind as I listened to him and knew I’ll regret my own suggestion. “Okay well I have a first aid kit here, but I’m pretty sure you ripped some stitches and if hospitals are a no… will you come home with me? That sounds bad but I promise I won’t finish you off, not a killer” I raised my hands in defense, smacking myself internally for even bringing that up and even worse, asking a stranger who already sounds like bad news into my home. 

When he attempted to get up from his position on the cold hard ground I took that as his agreement and held out my hand to assist him, which he gladly took before I realized my keys were still somewhere in my bag. “Lean back on the car for a minute, I don’t have my keys and if they are as hard to find as usual I don’t want you toppling over again in that time” he just nodded and shifted his weight backwards, not once stopping his looking around as if at any moment someone will jump out of the shadows and get him. He might not be crazy, but he sure is paranoid I thought to myself as I prepared to fight my overstuffed duffel bag. However, today luck was on my side as I opened the bag and my keys shined on top of everything. I pulled them out and unlocked the car, the stranger didn’t move, instead he held his hand out silently asking for the keys “No way, not a chance, not happening, get in the passenger seat. Last thing I need is you passing out from blood loss whilst driving, you already look like a ghost, who knows maybe you’re a hallucination” I heard what almost sounded like a chuckle from the man as i rambled on about his grim state before he shifted and slowly moved around whilst firmly holding on to the car for support. I got in and closed my door before he even got half way to his destination, briefly internally debating leaving him before pinching myself for even thinking such things. He finally got to his side and sat with a loud groan from his obvious discomfort. I started the car and pulled out of the lot going towards home before either one of you could once again think this was a bad idea. 

“Do you take wounded strangers home often? Or am I a special case? Because I don’t need pity, you decided that I shouldn’t die tonight” he finally spoke and this time I could hear an accent coming from him, his words were so quiet earlier that I hadn’t even noticed. His statement seemed very serious though  “No pity, got that. Does that mean I can stick a needle in you without any painkillers or numbing? Always wanted to try that and they don’t let you do it in hospitals” I tried lightening up the mood, but he seemed perplexed, as if he couldn’t quite tell if I was joking. His stare was intense, I could feel it send shivers up my spine but I didn’t dare to take my eyes off the road for even a second until I was safely parked by my small apartment building, it was nothing fancy but it sure was peaceful with only a few people living around me and most of those being elders. They’d be asleep or getting ready to by this time, so the chances of running into them with a bloody and slightly intimidating man were slim to none. 

“Alright, we’re here but I do have to warn you, I’m up on the second floor and there’s no elevator, think you can manage? I can always bring everything down and stitch you up in the trunk but that’s a little too trying to help roadkill for my taste” dark humor was not helping right now and I could see that from his scrunched face at the thought. He didn’t waste time opening his door but getting out was a different story. At that point leaving my work bag seemed like a no-brainer since I’d have to act as a human crutch for someone towering over me by at least half a foot. I popped the keys in my pocket and jogged over to his side before he could struggle too much, potentially doing more damage. No hesitation or questions were heard from the guy as he took my outstretched hand and leaned on my shoulders once on his feet. The trip upstairs was not as bad as I had first imagined it and once we were inside I chose to waste no time.

The moment he was stable on a chair in the kitchen I ran to gather supplies, everything I could possibly need as I still didn’t know the extent of his injury, he ran away from a hospital, how bad could it possibly be? Once I had everything laid out on the table from simple bandages to a suture kit, I froze. He had started slowly pulling his arm out of his gown, “Name!” I blurted out louder than I had intended and he once again had that look of confusion written all over his face, ‘Your name, can I at least know your name before you get naked in my kitchen?” I explained myself, looking at his face for more than a millisecond since meeting him. He was a very attractive man even if he was visibly a few shades paler, and I was right to avoid his gaze in the car, his blue eyes made it look like he was looking right into my soul. “Alexis” was his very short and simple answer before he continued shedding his gown painfully slow until he saw that it was stuck to his bloody torso. Alexis tugged at it once before realizing that was a mistake as he scowled and threw a few foreign words out at the sensation.

“See what would you do without me now?” I rolled my eyes as he leaned back letting me take care of the problem. All he needed was something wet and sterile to remove the gown with much less pain than his initial approach. I sprayed the bloody patch and waited for it to soak in, going in once more to make sure it was really detached before gently peeling it from the wound and skin around it. That gave me a quick moment to take in the fact that he was very well built, as I placed the fabric on his lap trying to keep him decent although he didn’t seem concerned at all. “I think I might need you to lay down, seems they repaired whatever internal damage you had and it stayed but you ripped a few stitches on the outside and I don’t want it to heal all crooked” I explained examining the wound “Get comfy on the table and I’ll be right back” I picked up all the unnecessary supplies to free up space for him to lay down before walking to my bathroom to put it all away. 

The last thing I expected was the first thing I saw walking into the room which elicited a very loud high pitched squeal from me. Even the unbothered Alexis was startled and snapped his head in my direction. Whilst I worried about keeping him covered minutes ago, he had hopped up on the table not bothering with the flimsy piece of material over his lap. “Not cool dude!” I walked around him trying to shield myself from the view as best as I could and still see where I’m going. I snatched the blanket from the back of the couch and threw it in his general direction. “You missed.” Oh great I thought to myself before turning to see where it had landed, but it was already draped over his lap. You wouldn’t have complained about him naked in any other situation because frankly it was a nice view but this was not the time for silly shenanigans. 

“I thought I was clear on the lay down part and why” I crossed my arms looking at him with whatever seriousness I could pull together at the moment. He complied and I finally approached him pulling on clean gloves and opening the suture kit “This will hurt Mr. Tough guy” I cleaned the area one more time before putting the needle through his skin. Almost instantly his arm was at my side squeezing gently but his face remained unfazed as he stared at the ceiling refusing to acknowledge what was happening to his torso. Second plunge into the skin and it was my turn to wince as his grip got painful, but the moment any sound left my lips he released it. A gentle sorry was all that was heard as he continued staring at what seemed to be the most interesting ceiling in the world. “Who got you this good? Seems like you pissed someone off” I let a smile slip as I thought about some of the ridiculous stories previous patients have told about their own stab wounds. Sometimes even I couldn’t believe the stuff that came out of peoples mouths. “A woman. Shouldn’t anger them, they can be ruthless” now he was looking at me and smiling even as I put in the last stitch and tied it off. “Ah so an angry girlfriend, better not tell her where you are or she might actually kill you this time” I cut the thread and opened up a bandage, sticking it right over the long line of stitches to protect them from any dirt. “Wait right here, do not move an inch” I was already on my way to the bedroom as I warned him with a very non threatening finger point. The box in the back of my closet was dusty but I was sure it would finally pay off keeping this stuff, he seemed about the right size. A pair of boxers, a t-shirt and sweatpants were easy enough to find and in no time I was back with Alexis in the kitchen, handing him the clothing “They don’t seem your style exactly but you can’t really complain either, it’s that or the blanket” as soon as the clothing was in his hands I turned around hoping he’ll get the hint to put it on. “And here I thought you liked me lying naked on a table” he joked around which made things at least that much less awkward, but soon enough I could hear the shuffling and a few grunts here and there as he strained to put on the garments.

Not even a minute passed before I felt a tap on my shoulder probably meaning I could turn around and not be met with Alexis in his birthday suit. Everything fit him almost perfectly except for the shirt clinging to his broad shoulders with the threat of tearing at any sudden movement, he was much broader than Brad but he was also taller so the shirt sat just right above his waistband. “You like what you see?” snapped me right out of my ogling and back to reality. “No” came out harsher than I intended but he was still a stranger even if he was a little mesmerizing. “You have a place to go? Pretty sure girlfriend is out of the question” I crossed my arms again trying to avoid his soul crushing stare. “Not my girlfriend, I said a woman, not my woman” he leaned back lightly on the counter not moving to leave and completely ignoring the actual question. “I have some spare sheets, couch is fine to sleep on but you will feel like your back snapped in half by the morning, my bedroom is off limits and the bathroom is right there” I pointed to the door to the right of my bedroom before quickly scurrying to pull out a pillow and some sheets for him. I didn’t feel like asking again fearing he might feel unwelcome even if he has nowhere else to go. 

This time the surprise in my living room was less shocking and more endearing, Alexis was already asleep curled up on the couch draped in the same blanket he had used to cover up earlier. I placed the bedding on an armchair next to the couch and went about my own nighttime routine as usual, picking some clothes from my bedroom this time for myself and jumping in the shower to wash off all the grime from the previous 24 hours. The water felt amazing until it got cold and that was my que to step out. Whilst brushing my teeth and finishing up I kept thinking about the man sleeping on my couch, he seemed strange but I didn’t feel fear as I usually would having a stranger in my home. I guess figuring him out will have to wait until tomorrow because all I could think about was getting some sleep myself. I stepped out to check on Alexis one more time to find him now stretched out, legs draped over the side of the small couch and soft snores coming from him. Nothing to scare me away from stroking a hand through his slightly messy hair, only when he leaned into my touch did I flinch away not expecting it and slinked back into my bedroom, closing the door behind me. The moment my head hit the pillow everything started going dark and I was off to dreamland.

[randomleafoflove]

Wuxian and Xiachen discuss the future while things are happening in the room next door.

Warning: implied non-con, implied prostate milking, implied rape, off-screen a slightly older lesbian character collects sperm from a barely legal adult in a situation where the barely legal male is killed very soon after

-

Wuxian stared at the closed door.

Tui-shijie was inside with Jiang Wanyin and a vial enchanted with preservation charms.

“Why Tui-shijie?” he thought aloud.

Shijie didn’t look up from her scroll. “A-Tui isn’t interested in men at all*. She will get through it as fast as possible so she can stop touching Jiang Wanyin.”

Wuxian nodded in understanding. “I’m interested in men, and I wouldn’t touch Jiang Wanyin.”

“That’s because A-Ying is in love with Lan Wangji,” shijie teased, glancing up from her reading.

“Wh-what? Shijie! No!” Wuxian whined, his face heating in embarrassment. “He’s just – Lan Zhan – pretty – Lan Zhan’s just – pretty!”

“Just pretty? A-Ying, you can do better than that.”

Wuxian quieted down and remembered the last time he’d seen Lan Zhan.

He’d been – haggard? Worn down? Chubby? Intensely searching Wuxian’s gaze when he’d practically begged them to stay put in Fojiao town. His hair had been a mess from hanging upside down, and his forehead ribbon had been askew.

“Lan Zhan… Lan Zhan tries to be a good person,” admitted Wuxian. “He is open to new information. He loves learning. He’s so controlled I just want to see him ease up a little, maybe get him to smile.” He smiled wryly. “That, of course, might be impossible now that we’re on opposing sides of a war.”

“But after war comes peace,” shijie pointed out. “It’s not unheard of ending a peace negotiation with a marriage. Should Lan Wangji happen to be captured alive, I’ll make sure to keep him that way for A-Ying, hmm?”

Wuxian bit his lip. “But I don’t want it to be forced.”

“Would you rather Lan Wangji die?”

“No! Of course not! I’d just -! Aiyah, shijie! Have mercy on this Wuxian!”

“Well, there are three ways I see this ending. In scenario one, Lan Wangji dies honorably on the battlefield. But as we’ve already established, you don’t want that. In scenario two, Lan Wangji is captured alive and after the war, held hostage for his sect’s good behavior. He will be fitted with a cultivation suppressing collar and be banned from having access to any musical instrument, confined to a courtyard. In scenario three, he is captured, held in isolation at your disposal, and after the war, he marries you as a free individual*. He takes up a post in Nightless Sky as an ambassador for the Lan, maybe takes over the management of the library, and you can night hunt together whenever the urge hits.”

The picture shijie painted with a few sentences filled Wuxian with such longing he doubted he’d ever felt the likes of before.

Of course, he’d daydreamed of marrying Lan Zhan before, but they’d always stopped after the wedding night. He’d never managed to imagine what living with Lan Zhan might be like. Where they’d live (Nightless Sky, obviously, he would stick out at Cloud Recesses even worse than Lan Zhan in Nightless Sky), what they’d do, what Lan Zhan’s position would be. But here shijie was, offering him possibilities he hadn’t even known to dream of. Because of course the Lan would need some representation in Nightless Sky after the war! And it’d be better if he had something to bind him to Nightless Sky!

“He’d need a proper residence though,” shijie mused. “You wouldn’t be able to just pick rooms in eastern Hearth palace. So would you, come to think of it.”

Wuxian jerked up. “What? Why?”

“Well, the leader of Nightless Sky’s talismanic studies branch might have to entertain sect officials in his home from time to time.”

“Is this about the university you wanted to establish?”

“Mn. Wēn Qing would oversee the medical branch. I suppose Wēn Ning might suit to teach others to teach. His empathy would make him phenomenal at it.”

“And I’d be in charge of talismanic studies?”

“Unless you know someone else as brilliant as you in talisman making?”

Before Wuxian had a chance to answer, Tui-shijie exited the room they were waiting outside of. She had a pinched expression on her face, and a vial in her hand. “Shijie, please never ask me to do anything like that again.”

-

*she’s gay af.

*Wuxian doesn’t consider the isolation anything beyond normal, he does it nearly every year and shijie wouldn’t hurt him without cause. Yes, he knows it makes adjustments to his behavior, but how else would he learn?

[anarchofairy]

going to admit to bad things

[nevertheless-moving]

Gotta lot of thoughts for this au over here where murderbot 2.0 lives.

We know murderbot didn't completely get copied over, partially because of the lack of an organic brain, partially because there wasn't room for all it’s memories plus sanctuary moon, and partially because 2.0 was designed as killware, not a secunit.

Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, 2.0 is originally 55% Murderbot, 35% killware, and 10% ART.

Then it has some adventures as killware, allies with three, and scuttles off to a shuttle. Now presumably 2.0 gets compressed when it shunts into a shuttlecraft, as a shuttlecraft just wouldn’t have the same data storage capacity as a ship carried.

And I know when I’m sentient killware trying to become a functional shuttle with extremely important passengers inside, and I have to make some quick decisions on what memories to trash, I’d probably drop a lot of the killware coding and personal information and keep more of the info on how not to kill my passengers. And! And! Where did the code on how to fly and provide life support and care for these specific passengers come from?! ART! So we get 2.0 once again having to semi-on-purpose adjust it’s ‘brain’ to the shape of it’s container, which is a little less murderboty and a little more ARy

Meaning now 2.0 is somewhat smaller than before, and is roughly 50% Murderbot, 14% killware, 27% ART, and 9% original flavor.

Then out of the shuttles into 1.0, and, this is key, if 2.0 hops back to the shuttle rather than die tragically, (because it got from the into 1.0′s brain while deep underground somehow, so it seems reasonable that it would be able to get back), I’m guessing it would have to carve off somepart of itself to ensure that no infection got carried over, probably the elements that overlapped the most with MB.

Heck, maybe it got operated on again by ART to excise lingering contamination.

Which brings our ‘percent og murderbot’ down once more.

So now we’ve got some solid neurological drift from 1.0! Which is, as is typical for Murderbot’s general existence, both nifty and terrifying!

I’m not saying that 2.0 by the end of all this is Murderbot’s and ART’s offspring, obviously that’s an imprecise, if not inaccurate comparison to organic relationships. But I am saying that some humans and augmented humans in universe look at the confused former-killware transport that’s 60/40 Murderbot/ART (with some other misc attributes thrown in), they are for sure gonna think of it as their baby.

Which is priceless.

[mercy-burning]

Your Favorite — Part 1

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: When Y/N comes home from college for the summer to meet her mom's new boyfriend, she finds herself in a rather tough spot when she can’t stop thinking about him— And it seems he feels the same... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Adults w/ age gap, masturbation (female and male), minor exhibitionism kink, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, breeding kink (kinda? i think? 😅) Word Count: 7.3k (do you see now why I had to make it a miniseries? alsdjfdk)

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | MASTERLIST

DISCLAIMER: In this story, Spencer is dating Y/N’s mom while also having a sexual relationship with the reader herself. Because of that, there are obvious undertones of cheating, alongside some perv-y tendencies when it comes to a partner’s daughter. That being said, Spencer and Y/N’s relationship is consensual. However— If any of what I just forewarned is something that you think will make you uncomfortable while reading, please do not read! If there are any more disclaimers you think I may have missed, don’t hesitate to tell me! There is another post I made HERE with some disclaimers as well if you want to know more about what this story will entail.

NOTE: This intro is already too long, so I’ll just get this out of the way: you can find visual nsfw inspirations for this story over at @mercy-midnight, I’m working on a playlist for this story on my Spotify @/mercyburning, and I don’t know when part 2 and 3 will be out, but you can assume they’ll be here within the next few weeks.

———

JUNE 5th

I hate my mom's new boyfriend.

For the past three months she'd been telling me about this new guy who's "The One" as if "The One" hasn't been like four other guys in the past two years.

And as much as I'd love for my mom to find someone to spend the rest of her life with, I don't believe she'd ever find Mr. Perfect at this rate. Unless she spent more than a few months with them at a time before dragging me home from college for a weekend to meet them, I really don't see it happening.

It just sucks. Because every time she does this, every time I return home, I see the glimmering hope in her eyes and the diminishing spark in his, and I know. I know it won't last, and her heart will be utterly broken within the span of a few months.

I always thought maybe she just had terrible taste in men.

But this time around, when I begrudgingly walk through the door of my childhood home for the summer and see my mother clinging to a man who returns that glimmer in her eyes, I know she's picked a good one.

And I hate him.

His name is Spencer Reid, and he's a retired FBI agent who teaches full time at local colleges now.

He greets me with a bona fide, radiant smile, unlike all the others before, and it sets my insides on fire. And when we sit down for dinner, he's polite (but not in a fake way,) and he seems genuinely curious about my studies and my personality and my relationship with my mother. And when dinner is finished he offers to clean up while Mom and I settle in the living room.

I see the way he looks at me as I leave, a gentle, closed-mouth smile and eyes that linger a little too long on my exposed legs before averting, a glint of shame pooling within them, and it only spreads that fire in my belly.

Maybe I'd been imagining the whole thing, because deep down I wanted him to look at me the way he had... But it's hard to tell when my brain is mostly setting off sirens, blaring "THIS IS WRONG! THIS IS WRONG!" on a loop with blinding lights.

And they're even louder when my mom wraps her arm around me and lays her head atop mine. "Well, what do you think? He's great, huh?"

She's so lovesick, it hurts. It hurts even worse knowing that all I can think about is his big hands wrapped around my throat while he fucks me into the squeaky twin-sized mattress in my bedroom upstairs.

But I can't tell her that, obviously.

And so I decidedly hate him. And I have no choice but lie to her face, embracing her joy and hoping that I'll be able to survive this summer.

"Yeah, Mom. He's really great."

JUNE 19th

It's been two weeks and I can barely stand to be in the same house anymore.

I try to keep myself busy by going outside, to the beach or for long walks in the park; but it's too hot for my liking, and our town is so small that unless I want to spend my time in the grocery store or one of the three bars on Main Street...

I'm stuck either outside where it's hot and uncomfortable, or in the house where it's also hot and uncomfortable.

We have air conditioning, of course, but that's not the problem.

It's Spencer.

I thought by now my little crush on him would have gone, but the longer he hangs around the house, the stronger my feelings for him grow. They're not romantic—nor do I think they ever could be given the fact that if anything serious really were to ever happen between us, my mom would disown me for the rest of my life and murder Spencer with her bare hands—but that doesn't make it any easier on me.

Every day he just exists, right in front of me with that tug-able mop of hair, those warm honey eyes, and his hands that never stop moving. I swear, it's like every time he breathes, his hands are breathing too, challenging me to try and stop them.

But I refuse to touch him. Because I know the moment I do, all will be lost. I won't be able to control myself anymore. And if I don't drop to my knees and try sucking his dick at the dinner table, I'm sure I'll blurt out how I can't handle it anymore and that I need him, and either way I'd be royally fucked.

Right now he's in the dining room, teaching my mom how to do a disappearing card trick. She thinks it's utterly charming that he can do it at all, but mostly that he's patient and willing enough to teach her. And normally I'd agree, but I can barely look at them without wanting to waltz over, grab his wrist, and suck his fingers into my mouth.

It's truly pathetic.

So I try to focus on the television just a few feet away. It's one of those rare instances where I wish our house was bigger, because while I don't mind having less wall-space between rooms, I do mind not being able to watch TV without the kitchen table in my periphery at a time like this. And I think about going up to my bedroom instead for a moment, but I'd have to go past the kitchen, and I just know Mom is going to ask if I'd want Spencer to teach me his magic trick.

And I most definitely do not want that.

In another life, maybe, where he isn't a hot professor and rather an average-looking dude who's way too into fantasy football... But not in this lifetime.

So there I sit, concentrating so hard on Family Feud that my face hurts.

When I hear a flutter of cards and joyous giggling from the other room, it's more than my face that hurts.

It's also my chest, churning and tensing at the hands of the green devil.

Fuck!

I barely even know this man... I haven't really talked to him because I'm afraid that if I try to hold a conversation I'll snap. He's literally just some hot older guy who's dating my mom, and still, my whole body twists and aches with envy when they do anything together, and it fucking sucks. Not only because of the jealousy, but it's also the fact that my mom deserves to be happy.

This time it's different. This time, she's really found someone who returns her every loving gaze, who makes her laugh, who's kind and genuine and not a total douche. She's happier than I've seen her in years.

And the one time she finally finds "The One", every waking second of my life is spent longing for him fuck me.

But it's only been two weeks.

And it's also been nearly two years since I got laid, so maybe that's just my issue...

I figure it can't hurt, so in a spur of the moment decision, I turn the TV off and sprint towards the stairs, right past Mom and Spencer before they can ask questions.

———

I hardly even register the dimness of the light inside the house by the time I glide up the steps, fumbling with the key and trying to make my entrance as quiet as possible. Though, because I'm so used to the dark by this point, the light—no matter how dim—nearly blinds me. The door shuts louder than I'd have liked, and I cringe inwardly, pausing as if that will keep anyone from seeing or hearing me. Not like it'll matter, considering Mom and Spencer are the only ones that are staying here and they'd also been the only ones aware of my plans for the evening.

Well, somewhat, anyway. I told them an old friend invited me out and I probably wouldn't be home until late.

Regardless, that instinct of trying not to get caught coming in late at night is stronger than common sense. Throw a little cheap beer and some shots into the mix, and it almost feels like I'm a teenager again.

The only thing different now is that I have a pool of some stranger's cum soaking my underwear and a man in front of me who stands like an angel. An exhausted, almost scruffy-looking angel more like, but my point still stands.

"You're up late," Spencer observes. It's a simple enough statement— not really judge-y, but I can tell that regardless of his knowledge of my coming home late, he seems shocked to see me coming through the front door right now.

And it's hard to look away from him. Just like it has been for the past two weeks. Still, I try, just barely avoiding his eyes as I cross my arms and fight the urge to clench my legs together. "I'm a whore. What's your excuse?"

Maybe not the best thing to say. But like I said, common sense? Gone.

"O—oh... Umm..." Spencer stumbles through his words, obviously stunned by my response, and the look in his eyes kind of makes me want to curl up in a ball and die from embarrassment. Still, I stand my ground and wait for him to continue.

He settles on a short, "I can't sleep," and then there's nothing else.

"Ah," I express. One syllable. I don't draw it out, I don't exaggerate it... This is the first real conversation I've had alone with him, and I've made it extremely awkward, so I sigh and take a few steps forward, trying to walk past him. "Okay. Goodnight."

I only make it a few steps before he stops me, his hand reaching out to tap my shoulder. "Wait—"

The touch makes me jump, and he pulls it away immediately as I turn to face him. My heart is racing at the speed of light, my panties are soaked through, and if I'm not careful that whole 'no common sense' thing is going to bite me so hard in the ass I won't have one left.

"Can I talk to you?" His voice is barely audible, and the gentle rasp it has to it seems to make me even more wet.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

"Look, I um... Your mom has been totally transparent with me about her relationships, so I know that she's been through a lot of them in a short amount of time... And I know that must be a little difficult for you. Especially now that I'm here... And you've been... distant. And I know that I don't know you that well, so forgive me if I'm assuming anything, but I just want you to know that I don't have any intention of making things difficult for you and your mother."

Too late, pal, I think bitterly, the gentle authority in his tone setting my insides alight. I'm positive that voice could get me to do so many things...

That's the alcohol and sex talking, Y/N, just shake it and move on...

He starts again, but I cut him off with a short wave of my hand. "Look, I... I appreciate what you're trying to do, but I had a really long night, and I'm exhausted. I just wanna shower and go to bed."

I expect more resistance, but Spencer only nods. I still can't bring myself to look him in the eye, though this time I catch his hands clenching at the bottom hem of his shirt. "I understand. Sleep well."

Without another word I turn on my heel and walk a little faster towards the stairs, and I'm about to take my first step when I realize he's followed me. His voice calls out my name softly from a few feet behind, and it stops me in my tracks regardless of my desire to get out of there as fast as I can. And then I turn around and finally look directly at his face.

Big mistake.

His eyes are on my legs again, trailing slowly upwards until he reaches my face. The light over here is dimmer, barely noticeable at all, though I swear I can see red forming on his cheeks.

"I like your dress," he says softly. It's almost meek, like he'd been afraid to say it but took a chance anyway.

It's such a random, small compliment, but with the alcohol and endorphins flowing through my body after the night I'd just had, it nearly makes me quiver.

It also makes me incredibly stupid.

An amused, almost sensual grin forms on my face as I make eye contact with him, and I feel myself throb at the way I can just barely see his throat move. He looks like a deer in headlights, afraid to make one sudden move.

"Turning to flattery to try and win me over, are we?" I say slowly.

I almost think he'll stumble over his words once more, but again he surprises me with a full answer. It's only three words but it's clear, and his voice is deep, and I want to fucking jump his bones right then and there.

"Is it working?"

This has to be the alcohol making me imagine things... I swear I didn't even drink that much tonight, but it has to be an obvious lapse in judgement. The drinking mixed with the sex mixed with the dirty thoughts I've been having about this man lately have to be what's making this feel real. It's all culminating into this one big fantasy (or delusion, more like), and all I need is to shower and sleep it off.

That has to be it.

So because there's no other reasonable explanation that my brain can conjure up, I take a chance and throw Spencer a wink before turning and sprinting up the stairs.

And it's that same seemingly undeniable reasoning for this illusion that doesn't keep my hands from wandering in the shower. Even though those warning sirens in my brain keep blaring, telling me that the common sense is still there for me to utilize, they're drowned out by my thrumming heartbeat and the repetition of Spencer's soothing, authoritative voice, guiding my movements.

Keep rubbing your clit for me, baby... Just like that, nice and slow...

Warm water cascades down the front of my body as I lean back into the wall of the shower, but that's not why I'm so warm. This heat radiates through my insides, spreading like wildfire and bringing out small whimpers and mewls that I know I'll have to contain in fear of waking my mom from her bedroom right next door.

But then the thought of her hearing me next door as I cry out her boyfriend's name only excites me more. I keep it quiet still, but just knowing that someone else is in the house while I'm having these thoughts right now (one of them being the object of said thoughts) is what finally brings me over the edge.

I finish my shower on weak legs, definitely overstimulated now, but also feeling even more tired. I know that the moment I lay down on my bed, I'll be pulled into the sweet, soft surrender of a deep sleep.

Nothing else has ever sounded so pleasant.

———

When I woke up that morning after, I was feeling surprisingly calm. Realistically I knew that my whole 'this has to be an illusion' montage had been less truth and more inebriated babble, and the longer I sat on it the more I thought it'd all turned out for the better.

Turns out, tipsily masturbating in the shower to thoughts of your mom's hot new boyfriend was a surefire way to get it out of your system, right?

Wrong.

It really had been okay at first. I thought about Spencer almost immediately, and yeah, he was still hot as fuck—But there wasn't this overwhelming desire within me to jump his bones when I saw him that morning, his hair messy and his hands clutching a cup of coffee while Mom made breakfast behind him.

But that good feeling I had about all of this? It lasts only about a split second.

Because the moment he looks up and sees me, the mug falls out of his hand and shatters to pieces. His eyes stay glued to me, even as my mother darts over to pick up the pieces of the ceramic that are scattered about the table and the floor. And when she turns back to grab a paper towel, he still stares at me, once again at my legs.

It takes me all of four seconds afterwards to remember that not only did I talk to him briefly last night, but I also flirted with him after he complimented me.

That whole part seemed to have slipped my mind when waking up, and now that his gaze is bringing me back to that moment, that 'this has to be an illusion' montage is starting to become larger than I'd remembered.

It isn't until he finally snaps out of it and starts to help my mom clean up the mess that I snap out of it, too, going back upstairs to clear my head and cool the heat radiating over my skin.

———

There's a knock at my bedroom door about an hour later, and it sounds different than my mom's usually quick two-knock succession. That means it's someone else, and unsurprisingly, my stomach tightens at the thought of seeing him again.

"Yeah?" I call out, turning in my desk chair and meeting Spencer's figure in the doorway. He's changed, a rather nice pair of slacks and a white button-up shirt clinging to his limbs.

"Can I come in?"

"Mhm," I say. I still don't know if I entirely trust myself to say anything more than a few words to him, and as he enters the room and sits on the foot of my bed, I wonder if he can tell.

He tries, really tries, to look me in the eye, but I know that it's hard. I've been in the same spot. And then he takes a deep breath before folding his hands in his lap.

"Y/N, I want to apologize... When we... talked last night... It was kind of weird, and then this morning wasn't really any better..." He can barely get out the words 'talk' and 'last night'... And then he avoids my gaze altogether, staring at the floor and trailing off, trying to put his thoughts together it seems.

And that's when it starts to click into place.

There's one thing that both last night and this morning have in common, and I've noticed it almost every time I've caught him staring at me. At my legs. It's happened almost daily since I've met him. And then, the night I come home clearly having just been fucked, waltzing past him, entertaining his fascination with my legs and then masturbating to thoughts of him in the shower, he finally starts dropping mugs.

He must also really feel something here. Something similar to my own feelings. And really, that should be a red flag, because he's my mom's boyfriend, and it's a goddamned fucking mess...

But fuck, it excites me.

I'm still wearing my pajama shorts, silky and lavender in color, and I use them to my advantage, slowly crossing one leg over the other and just barely gaining Spencer's attention back.

"Yeah, what was that, anyway?" I ask him, amusement dripping off my tongue.

I can tell from his reaction that he wasn't expecting me to ask. A few times he opens his mouth to speak and then closes it , stumbling before panicking. He's been pretty good so far at coming up with answers and explanations, so the fact that this time I finally seemed to have broken him down makes it all the more clear.

He must have heard me in the shower.

Right?

I'm almost completely positive that's what this is about. And there's one way for me to get the confirmation I'm looking for.

"So you heard me, huh?"

I try to keep my voice as plain as I can as not to give away my motives, and with my luck Spencer is so flustered that he probably wouldn't have even noticed it at all. He looks up at me, his eyes desperately trying to find something he can use to make up a lie, but in the end there's no use.

I've caught him. And he knows it.

"Yes," he whispers. He looks exhausted, guilty, and also a little like he wants to cross the barrier and kiss me.

Okay, maybe that part's just in my head. I really can't tell. But I do know that hearing me call his name out in the shower last night is what brought him to this point of severe distress. As much as that excites me, though, it also embarrasses me a little. Maybe if it hadn't happened we could have avoided further destruction.

It must read on my face, because Spencer perks a little. "Oh! Y/N, I'm not... I'm not mad or anything. I really didn't mean to overhear and invade your privacy... Really, I-I'm sorry."

The fact that he's apologizing to me right now, rather than acting all grossed out that I even did it in the first place, tells me he either feels guilty for not being able to help himself from hearing me, or he's just a good guy who loves my mom and doesn't want to ruin it because of a little mishap.

Either way, it's frustrating, because I don't know what to do.

Well, I know what I want to do, but I don't know if I should hint at it.

But then he does something. It's small, and no one would have noticed, but I've been fascinated with his hands since the moment I met him, so my eyes are instantly drawn there.

They're clenched so hard, his knuckles are nearly white.

He's nervous.

To ease his mind a bit, I hold off on poking the bear harder (though it's really tempting to see what will happen if I don't) and nod, trying to make myself look as apologetic and small as possible.

"It's okay... I... I won't make it awkward if you won't?"

His shoulders slump, and his body seems to relax. "Y–yeah. Yeah, deal."

He gets up off the bed and blurts one final apology before heading for the door, but that part of me that wants to poke the bear further makes me stand up and follow him.

"Spencer?" I call out.

He freezes and turns to face me, and I don't think he quite expected me to be as close as I am. I have to tilt my head up to look at him, and the angle gives me an added layer of this innocence I'm trying to achieve.

"I'm sorry, too..."

No the fuck I'm not.

Whether he can sense my lie or not, he doesn't show it. But I think he at least knows that I'm pitching my voice a little higher on purpose, and if that doesn't give it away, the way I'm staring at him sure should.

Still, he only nods and retreats.

All there's left to do is see what happens.

JUNE 25th

For someone who agreed not to make things awkward, Spencer sure can't keep his eyes off of me.

To be fair, I have tried to keep things fairly normal. I only really interacted with him if I had to, I kept my distance, and I saved my skimpier clothing for the strangers I was regularly going out to see almost every weekend.

My lustful feelings for him aren't as strong now that I've been getting some on a semi-regular basis and keeping myself occupied. I've been doing my part.

But I still can't shake him entirely.

Whenever he spends the night (which is surprisingly most nights), the occasional wet dream about him gets me frustrated when I know he's just down the hall and sleeping soundly next to my mom. On those days I try to cut as much interaction with him as I can, though it doesn't keep me from seeing the occasional stare he throws my way.

I wish I could say that I hate it.

But I don't, and it increasingly gets worse. It's only been a week, so there's still time, but honestly, I don't think there's any shaking him.

Today especially is one of those days where it's hard not to give into the incessant need to tease him and coax some stronger reaction out of him.

I talked to Mom earlier this morning about getting some new clothes, and she had this brilliant idea to have Spencer take me. "It would be a good chance for you two to bond a little, don't you think?" she insisted, nudging him in the side and silently pleading with her eyes for him to agree.

I could tell from the look on his face that he really wasn't ready to be alone with me again, but that only excited me.

"Yeah, I think that's a great idea," I piped up, positively beaming.

Mom was so excited for us to 'bond' and also that I was gladly inclined to go through with it that Spencer couldn't have said no to her even if he wanted to.

And I was pretty sure he didn't want to.

Yet here we are, sitting in the car, the air conditioning so strong it's blowing some of my hair into my eyes. I think it had been his way of punishing me for choosing today to wear a short skirt, something I usually refrain from nowadays unless I'm going out, and it makes me smile. I can't help it.

I also can't help the way my fingers play with my skirt, dying to tease him some more. I just want to see, to know for sure that I'm driving him mad.

"No offence, but you seem weird today... Is there something wrong?" I ask him, lifting my skirt just a smidge. The air from the car blows the fabric in waves.

"You're acting this way on purpose."

Well, I hadn't been expecting that answer... All this time he'd hardly been confrontative, and now he's full-on calling me out. It's plain to see that he's finally snapped, and I would have felt sorry about it if I didn't find it extremely sexy.

"What do you mean?"

"Y/N..."

My name on his lips is a warning. He's clearly annoyed, exasperated, and I'm loving every second. "Don't act oblivious. I'm not stupid, and neither are you. I don't want to make you hate me or anything, but you have to know where I'm coming from. I was willing to let the shower thing slide... And you said you were too, for that matter, so I don't know what's changed, but it has to stop now. Understood?"

Oh, all I want is to argue with him. I want to point out that none of this is really my fault because he's the one who hasn't been able to stop staring at me all summer so far. I want to tell him that if he wants this to stop he has to make it stop.

But that isn't going to give me any of the answers I'm looking for or further proof of my theory that he wants me just as badly as I want him. And I am not going to fuck this whole situation up by making a poorly-timed move on him.

I have to know for sure.

So, I fold my hands neatly in my lap, sigh, and look dead ahead. "Right... We said no awkwardness. I'm sorry."

Spencer seems to accept my apology and continues down the road.

When we make it to the mall I think he's calmed down. At least, he seems a little more comfortable around me, and honestly I'm okay with it. As much as his spiel in the car turned me on, it also exhausted me to the point of silence.

Even as we walk around each store in the mall, I just lead and he follows, not saying a word when I pick out a top or a pair of pants or whatever else I need. And when it comes time to pay, he takes the basket from me and pays for it with no question.

Near five bags of clothes later, I figure I could get used to this new dynamic.

But then we pass a lingerie store, and I remember that the main thing I'd needed was new underwear. I start to turn into the store, but stop suddenly, pausing awkwardly and deciding to go straight ahead instead.

"You don't want to go in?" Spencer asks.

I shake my head. "No, it's fine. I can just pick some up later, it's not a big deal."

He sighs then, nodding his head towards the sign. "If you need to go in, you can... I'll just wait out here if you're uncomfortable."

I really want to call him out, ask him if he's the one who should be worried about being uncomfortable. But so far this afternoon has been pretty decent, and I really don't want to make things any weirder than they have to be.

Besides... If my theory is right...

"Sure. Thanks. Uh, how am I gonna pay, though?"

"O—Oh... I'll uh... I'll just watch the counter and come in when you need me."

"Orrrr, you could just give it to me?"

This time I get a laugh out of him. "Not a chance. Go in, I'll wait."

I smile at him and hand him the bags to hold onto while I leave, and it fills me with absolute amusement that he'd just given me one more ounce of proof that I'm right.

He's gonna have to come inside and pay for what I bought. He could have just given me the card, and maybe he truly doesn't trust me with it (which I don't know why he wouldn't honestly), but he chose to come inside all the same.

I browse happily then, going through the displays and picking out things I need, but also things I know Spencer will like.

Specifically, I stumble on a pair of lavender panties, embroidered with flowery trim up top. The pattern from the outside is lace, but there's a thin layer of cotton underneath designed to be more comfortable to wear.

I've noticed that he can never seem to look away when I'm wearing anything, really, but it's more intense when I wear one of two things. Florals, and any type of purple. And these fit both of those bills perfectly.

Now there's just one more bill to take care of.

I stride over to the counter and turn around, finding that Spencer's caught my eye immediately. Either he truly had been paying attention to the counter the whole time, or he'd been watching through the glass, following me with his gaze to the best of his abilities. Either way, he blinks a few times and looks like he's gathering the courage to go in before actually taking any steps.

I laugh to myself, eager to gauge his reaction to this next step.

Surprisingly, he holds up well. The air between me, him, and the cashier is obviously awkward, but he doesn't say anything and barely looks at what she rings up. (I say barely because he tries extremely hard not to look at the purple pair I picked out, inadvertently adding another checkmark to my list of proof.) She tells him the total, he hands her the card, and within a minute, everything is in our possession and we're leaving the mall entirely.

I don't think there are any more steps to my plan today once we get in the car and I tell him thank you. (To which he responds a short and simple, Sure thing, and turns the radio on.)

But then there's a note taped to the front door, and it instantly gives me another one.

My Sweethearts,

I got called in on a work emergency and won't be back until 7. I would have called but I figured you were having a nice time and didn't want to interrupt! I'll bring home dinner, and then maybe you can tell me about how your day went. Can't wait to hear it!

XOXO,

Eve/Mom

I check my phone, seeing that it's almost 3.

Perfect.

But I don't want to give myself away too quickly, so I thank Spencer again for taking me out and tell him that I'm going upstairs to make sure everything fits right. He nods and lets me go, though not without lingering eyes. I can feel it.

The smile never leaves my face as I try all my clothes on. Once each article has been fitted, I throw it in a laundry basket and move to the next, until I get to the last piece.

The lavender panties.

As expected, they fit perfectly, and as I look at myself in the mirror I picture what Spencer would look like when he sees me wearing them.

That's right. When.

I throw back on my earlier outfit and grab the basket, acting as bored and normal as possible to find him sitting at the kitchen table, reading a book.

"Hey," I greet him, setting the basket in front of me once I reach the bottom of the stairs. "Everything fits good, I just need them washed now. Could you run these down to the laundry room for me? I think I'm gonna make something to snack on before Mom brings dinner."

It doesn't surprise me to see him look at my legs before my face, even if it is brief. I want to smile, but I hold back, watching him nod with a tight smile of his own.

"Sure."

He disappears and then I wait.

One...

Two...

Three.

I sneak as quietly as I can to the laundry room once I hear the washer door open. I hadn't specifically asked him to put them in the washer for me on purpose, and it looks like now he's doing exactly what I thought he might.

My head peeks around the corner, barely in his range of sight as I watch him empty the basket. He takes one item of clothing at a time and throws it in the washer, and halfway through the basket he stops, just to place a pair of my new underwear on the dryer beside him.

My heart races faster the more I wait for him to get to the end of the basket. Once he does, he pauses again, and I think I know exactly what he's looking for.

Still, he sets the basket aside and picks up the stray pair of underwear, a simple black cotton pair that I'd been getting for years, and drapes it over his hands. My thighs instantly clench, and I try so hard to remain where I am so I can see where he takes this.

He takes it straight to hell, apparently, tentatively pulling his dick out of his pants and gripping it firmly. I can barely see since his back is partially turned, but I see enough, and god he's so fucking pretty. My underwear dangle from his left hand while the other works slowly over his erection, a soft sigh falling from his lips.

I fight to let one of my own slip as my hand sinks down the front of my body, past the lavender cotton and lace that I know he just wishes he had right now.

And then, a few seconds later he's already coming, using my brand new underwear to catch each rope of it, and the sight nearly has me on my knees.

And because I want to catch him in the act, I quickly draw my hand away from myself and step into the room, barely giving him time to recover.

"You come fast."

Spencer looks utterly devastated when he turns to see me standing in the entryway to the laundry room, arms crossed and an amused smirk adorning my face.

"Y/N... I—I... I'm so sorry, I didn't... I..."

"Don't worry about it," I say, taking a step towards him and shrugging. "You heard me, and now I heard you... We're even. Besides, I... figured you might be looking for these."

He's still stunned, but he looks down all the same, watching my hands slip under my skirt and glide the lavender panties down my legs. I step out of them and hold the garment up on one finger, a soft smile still on my face.

"I picked 'em out just for you, you know," I tell him, tossing them past his face and into the washer. "I've noticed that you like purple."

This time he's quick to respond. "Y/N, we... We can't... This isn't right."

"Says the man holding my underwear soaked in his cum..."

He looks panicked again, extremely guilty, but if this isn't going to end in a total disaster, then I have to reassure him that I'm okay.

"Spencer, I'm not mad..." I take another step forward, and it feels much like trying to approach a wounded animal. I can see in his eyes and in his posture that this conflict is killing him, so I decide to show some rapport. "And I know... I know this is messy... I love my mom... And I'm sure you care about her a lot... But are we really going to ignore this? We tried that, remember? And now look where we are."

"I..." He swallows, shaking his head and trying to avoid my eyes. "I can't stop thinking about you... I can't..."

My hand finds his arm, and the light touch has him sighing out, an incredulous, breathy laugh escaping him. "Y/N, please... Don't."

"Don't what?" I ask softly, praying he won't turn me away. If he does, we're just back to square one, only the square is jagged, sharper than ever before, and in serious danger of injuring someone.

When he meets my eyes, I see nothing but a desire for something he knows he can't have. "Don't want me."

Now it's my turn to laugh. My knees start to wobble as I go down, keeping my eyes locked onto his, and I swear I see them dilate fully. I scoot in closer, sliding my hand up his leg and finding the words in my heart to finally say out loud.

"It's too late for that..."

My face moves closer, and the hand of his that doesn't currently hold my underwear flies down to gently tug at my hair, keeping me in place.

"If you do this... God, Y/N, I won't be able to stop myself..."

A smirk dances over my lips as I lean in, breath fanning gently over his exposed skin. "Don't."

He swallows. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop yourself."

I barely get the words out before his hand is completely pulling me towards him, and the second my lips press against the silky skin of his hard cock, he loses it completely.

His fingers thread through my hair as I kiss and lick my way softly up to the tip. Once I'm there, I swirl my tongue out and taste the small beads of cum that had remained after he came, a low, satiated hum radiating through my body and making him shiver under my touch.

And then I wrap my lips fully around the head of his dick, and there's no stopping the most beautiful sound I've ever heard come out of his mouth. It's a broken, desperate whisper of my name. The crack in his voice when he says it spurs me forward, and I take him deeper into my mouth until he hits the back of my throat.

That's when he tosses my underwear in the washer and uses both of his hands to grab my head, roughly guiding me along his cock and fully taking control of my actions.

The fire in my belly doesn't ease up, not even once he's decided that he can't take it anymore and pulls me off of him harshly.

And that's only because now he's fully turned over, finally given into these desires that have been plaguing him presumably from the moment we met.

"I want you stripped and in your bed, on your hands and knees within the next five minutes."

I get up off the floor and walk up to him until our bodies are flush, my arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"What are you gonna do to me, Spencer?"

He searches my eyes, and his own grow dark with the purest form of sin I'd ever seen. And when his hands come up over the back of my legs, and under my skirt to grab my ass and pull me even closer to him, I can't help the little mewl that slips past my lips.

He smiles, and if it hadn't been for the grip he held on me, I would have fallen to my knees. "Little girl, when I'm through with you, you'll have to come up with some excuse to your mom about why you can't walk straight... Is that what you want?"

The mention of my mom should send me running in the opposite direction, but his threat only prolongs that fire in my veins and makes me want him even more.

I tilt my head up and press a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Do your worst..."

———

Turns out he was very true to his word.

Sitting at the kitchen table is somewhat of a relief, but I try not to walk around as much when Mom gets home. She'd asked me almost immediately if I was okay, and I told her I was just hungry and needed to eat something.

She seemed to have bought it, rushing to the kitchen to unpack the fast food she'd ordered for us. Over her shoulder, Spencer gave me a sly smile, and it took everything I had within myself not to crumble.

Through bites of food, I only half-listen to Mom telling us about the stuff she had to do at work because most of the words I'm hearing are in my head— A loop of endless dirty talk that plants deep into the soil of my stomach and spreads out through my whole body. It infects me, like the most beautiful poison, and I never want it to stop.

"Tell me, sweetheart, you ever let a man come inside you before?"

His weight on top of me coupled together with the heft of his voice has me whining out in pleasure, each snap forward of his hips over my ass as he pounds into me from behind the most delectable burn I've ever felt.

"Uh huh," I answer happily, twisting my head to feel his cheek against my own. "That night you heard me in the shower... I walked through the door with a stranger's cum soaking my panties... And you know what?"

He grumbles, his hips hitting into me harder as he waits for me to continue.

"I wished it was yours..."

My legs clench together under the table and I take a large gulp of water.

I feel something graze over my bare shin, and I already know it's Spencer's foot, a silent reassurance of his presence and that no matter what, he'll always be here.

"Here's what's going to happen..."

He has me on my back now, my legs hoisted over his shoulders and bent back so I'm nearly folded in half. His hips are flush against mine and I can feel his cock throbbing as he comes into the condom.

"You're gonna make an appointment to make sure you're clean... You're gonna make sure you're on good birth control... And then the next time I fuck this pretty little pussy, you're gonna really know what it feels like to have a man come inside you."

Right... Like I really need a reminder of his presence.

I can practically feel it still inside me, taking up every inch of space my body could provide. And no matter how long I go without seeing him, I have no doubt that it'll always remain.

"But that's enough about me, I'm sorry." Mom's voice shifts and breaks me out of my fantasy. "So, how did your day of bonding go? You have fun?"

Spencer and I share a look, a smile spreading over his lips that makes me smile in turn.

"Yeah, Mom," I say. "It was great."

He nods in kind. "Yeah... We'll definitely have to do it again."

His foot grazing over my leg under the table cements the unwavering smile on my face, as does the way my whole body burns at the memory of him fucking me upstairs only hours before.

I don't even flinch or get sick to my stomach when Mom reaches over and gives Spencer a kiss.

———

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[blackkatmagic]

Hi Kat! I hope your doing better. My birthday is on the 29th and I was going to ask if you had a snip bit of It’s Not the Waking to share, but I do see that you probably need to be resting right now. So if nothing is readily available please ignore this request. Your health comes first. :)

Happy birth!!!

.

Something’s wrong, Cody thinks, and it sits like a stone in the pit of his stomach. Fox wouldn’t have ordered the troops off of Alderaan, wouldn’t have demanded that Cody wait for him the moment he got to the cruiser, unless something was wrong.

He doesn’t pace, doesn’t let himself give in to the rising tension that eats through his muscles as he watches Fox’s shuttle slide into the bay. Boil met them in the hangar, slid into place at Sinker’s right hand like it’s something that he’s trained for, and Sinker hadn’t protested. He’s on his comm, though his helmet is muted and Cody can't hear what he’s saying; he’s still talking to Doom, likely, and Cody almost wants to tell Doom to delay, to wait until Cody hears whatever Fox has to say in explanation, but—

Fox wouldn’t have given the order without reason. Cody knows that.

“Sir,” Sinker says quietly, though from the angle of his helmet Cody can tell his eyes are still on the shuttle as it settles. “Reports of trouble in the Stygeon System, Nuiri sector. Imperial holdouts refusing to acknowledge you. They're refusing to submit the records from the prison on Stygeon Prime.”

That was a Sep prison, back during the war, Cody thinks with a frown. Dooku used it for the prisoners he reallydidn’t want escaping. “Any clones inside?” he asks.

Sinker shakes his head. “Imperial officers only, as far as we can tell. If there are clones on the inside, they haven’t woken up yet.”

Woken up. Cody still doesn’t know any other term that they can use, but that one doesn’t fit. Doesn’t work, or imply the willing compliance, stripped of anything like opinion. As far as he’s been able to tell, all the clones are awake. Every last one of them, two years too late, with nothing but memories that aren’t nearly hazy enough and a fanatic sort of certainty that they’d all rather die than go back to sleep.

“Who’s closest?” he asks curtly.

There's a pause as Sinker relays the question, and then tips his head. “Commander Davijaan’s got a wing in the next system over, but Commander Jet has a cruiser that can make it there within two days.”

The familiar names make Cody close his eyes, his chest full of broken pieces. He’s looked, briefly, to see who’s survived this long, but—not thoroughly. Sometimes it’s easier not to know.

“Have Davijaan scout the system and see if he can get in. Jet should move to reinforce him. I want that prison broken open and all the holdouts taken into custody, if it’s possible. If not, just get rid of them.”

“Yes, sir,” Sinker answers, sliding back a step, and Boost takes his spot, practically shoulder to shoulder with Boil. If it was just up to Cody, he’d boot them both in the ass and tell them to stop hovering, but.

This isn't just about him. It’s all the clones. He needs to keep a hold of whatever fracturing bits of the Empire he can, because otherwise someone could step in, take power, who knows precisely what happened to them the first time. Someone who can recreateit, and no part of Cody can let that happen.

With a hiss, the ramp of Fox’s shuttle hits the deck, and almost immediately the squad starts to filter out. 91st, Cody thinks, and all of the old units have been scattered and mixed and broken, but—Neyo reclaimed these ones. And, indeed, it’s Neyo right behind them, armored and stiff and—

Shaken, Cody thinks with a jolt. It’s clear in the set of Neyo's shoulders, the fact that his arms are folded across his chest, nowhere near his blasters. It’s a vulnerable position, if there's an enemy, and there is.

He opens his mouth, takes a step, ready to call out, and then realizes with a lurching jolt like ice in his gut that Fox wasn’t the first one out.

“Neyo,” Cody says, a sharp crack across the bay, and Neyo turns his head, looks over. Pauses—

“Fox wants you to clear the bay,” he says. “Anyone you can send out, do it.”

Boost takes a short breath, grip tightening on his blaster. “With all due respect, sir,” he says. “There are already fewer people in here than I’d like.”

Neyo doesn’t snap, doesn’t waver. “Trust me, Sergeant,” he says. “You're not going to mind in about five minutes.”

A thread of dark, creeping suspicion twists through Cody's chest. “Vod—” he starts, halfway to a test, and Neyo snorts.

“I'm me,” he says, bitter humor with an edge of bite. “Udesii, vod.”

Calm down. Cody's about as calm as he’s going to get, and it’s not very. Still, between Fox and Neyo, odds are that this likely won't get them all killed outright, so he nods. “Boil, make the call,” he orders, and Boil shoots him a sideways look through the visor of his helmet but taps his comm. A moment later, there's an organized retreat of all the other clones in the bay, even the mechanics abandoning their work to retreat into the main part of the cruiser. Cody waits as they filter out, Neyo's squad following, and then raises a brow.

“Well?” he asks.

Neyo takes a breath that’s not quite steady. “Pull up your mask,” he says, and then calls back into the shuttle, “Clear!”

Cody raises a brow, but tugs his hood back up, the scarf into place. A bare moment later, there are boots on metal, Fox’s heavy stride, and an echo of lighter, almost entirely inaudible steps. When Fox appears at the top of the ramp, he’s not hanging onto the aide, doesn’t even have his blaster drawn. Surprised, Cody hesitates, but Fox looks at him for a long, long second and then says gruffly, but almost gently, “Come on.”

He’s not talking to Cody, that much is clear. And, a bare second later, the aide slides up next to Fox’s bulk, half-hidden behind him but obviously free of the binders. Fox glances back at him, apparently seeing something that Cody can't, because he reaches back, closes his fingers around the aide’s elbow. It’s not a punishing grip; Cody doesn’t have to move closer to be able to see that. Like his voice, it’s practically gentle, careful, and Cody can't even begin to fathom what changed in the space of a shuttle ride to convince Fox that this man isn't a threat.

“Fox,” he says, a little wary, because if the aide is an Inquisitor of some sort, if he’s controlling Fox—

“Emperor,” Fox says, and comes to a halt at the base of the ramp, several strides still between them. The aide is tense, dark gaze flickering from Cody to Fox and back, and beneath the edge of his coat Cody can just make out a fisted hand, clenched around something silver.

A weapon. Fox left him a weapon, Cody thinks, and raises his gaze to meet Fox’s eyes through the dark slash of his visor.

“Something you want to tell me, Fox?” he asks, flat, and Fox’s bark of laughter is almost enough to startle him.

“Yeah,” Fox says, a challenge, and draws the aide forward. Reaches for his other hand, and the aide looks as confused as Cody feels but he allows the manhandling without protest. Lets Fox pull his other hand up—

He’s holding a lightsaber, and Cody's breath leaves his lungs all at once.

“We didn’t kill all of them,” Fox says, ragged, and suddenly the angle of his body, ready to put himself between the aide and everyone else in the whole hangar, makes perfect sense. “Cody. We didn’t kill them all.”

[mettywiththenotes]

Izuku’s Emotional Neglect

Hi so I’m not okay because I keep thinking about Izuku

This kid has been emotionally neglected since he was little. Izuku has had NOBODY to rely on emotionally

He didn’t have Inko, or his classmates, or All Might. Actually, All Might is borderline the only one he’s confided in [since they talk briefly about their connection of being quirkless], but he still holds back

Inko is trying her best and no parent is perfect, I see that, but what she said to Izuku that fateful night damaged that boy and the way he saw himself.

He asks her if he can be a hero, and she cries and says she’s sorry. Not only does this imply that Izuku’s quirklessness is bad, it also implies that she was lying.

And by the way, I don’t mean that Inko ACTUALLY lied that Izuku could be a hero, nor do I think that she meant to mean his quirklessness was bad.

But I need, NEED, to stress that this is how Izuku sees it. This is how he would perceive it, subconciously.

If you’re a child and you think that you can be a hero, your parent encourages it because it makes you happy. But then suddenly you can’t be a hero, and you ask them one more time if it’s possible, hoping that those little wishes you made weren’t fruitless, that maybe somehow this is some kind of dream and she’ll wake you up from it with her smile and her warmth, promising that even with this newfound “disability” you can still be a hero, but instead she cries and apologises to you? That’s going to make you think. It’s going to make you think “Was she lying? if she truly believed in me, why would she cry and say she’s sorry? why isn’t she encouraging me, like she always does? what is happening?”

It’s not the truth, and Inko DIDN’T lie, but subconsciously I feel like it’s something that betrayed Izuku a great deal.

And with the quirklessness. He hates it, he hates feeling useless, and he saw himself as useless when he was quirkless, therefore -> quirkless is something weak and awful.

Time and time again, we see this evidence of the emotional neglect he was subjected to. It’s like actively ongoing and the effects of it are seen even now

We’ll start with the Inko one. I just mentioned it, but here are the panels. It’s really just the language that she uses

“You mean there’s something wrong?”

Apologizing over and over again, like not being normal was a bad thing. Moreso, I think this just meant that she knew how hard Izuku’s life was going to be as a quirkless person, but the way she says it makes it sound like what happened to Izuku was wrong and bad and incredibly awful

Then we have All Might disregarding his feelings and telling him straight up that he couldn’t be a hero

Which then leads to this commentary

“Don’t cry! Let it sink in!!” “Just block it out, just block it all out, just-”

*pats Izuku on head* You Can Fit So Much Denial And Repression Into This Kid!

Then further along, Izuku is seen, and he gets the quirk. He is then surrounded by people that love him, that want to help him, but it’s almost like even the narrative won’t let him have emotional closure.

In most emotional closure scenes (Tsuyu crying, Kirishima vs Rappa, Iieda in the hospital with Shouto and Izuku, Kacchan vs Deku 2), there is an end to it. The character is emotional, crying or upset, and thinking back on their regrets, spilling their guts as they scream, sob, or give solemn expressions. The other characters then cheer/hype them up, reaching some sort of conclusion to the character’s pain, and the situation is more or less resolved.

But that’s not the case with Izuku. He’s always left sorta hanging there, or his hurt and anger get sidetracked by something else. One example of this is the Running With All Might scene in the UA grounds

Izuku is incredibly upset that All Might chose to withhold information on Sir Nighteye and Mirio, and he speaks about how he can’t make sense of it. He’s voicing all his worries to All Might as they run, because he can’t stand the thought of All Might keeping something like this a secret from him.

And then All Might tells him why he kept it a secret, that he didn’t feel it was necessary to let Izuku know about Nighteye’s bias, and then it divulges into him telling Izuku he’s gonna die, and Izuku focuses on that instead.

I am NOT saying that All Might did this purposefully. He didn’t try and steer Izuku’s anger away from him, it was just that it all got revealed so suddenly, so the subject changed.

The narrative tosses Izuku’s feelings of anger aside, and instead Izuku gets emotional over All Might’s potential death. Idk man, to go from angry and upset about withheld information and then immediately shoved into the knowledge that your mentor-father figure is gonna die? That’s the narrative playing with Izuku’s feelings.

Obviously, All Might’s communication skills are awful and he just kinda unloaded all this stuff on Izuku cuz he didn’t think to tell him in the first place, but I still think Izuku’s feelings got pushed around here. He had no time to process any of it

Another example is the cafeteria scene with Shouto and Iieda

The scene goes that Izuku is visibly depressed by the Eri situation and Iieda and Shouto notice. They tell him that he can talk to them when everything gets too much [a parallel to the Stain fight], and Izuku cries. Izuku insists he shouldn’t cry, and Shouto tells him that, actually, Heroes cry too sometimes, and they offer him their food in an attempt to comfort him.

But the thing is, this scene doesn’t offer closure. Closure would be Izuku seeing that he could rely on his friends and telling them how he feels [he wouldn’t have to necessarily tell them about Eri - maybe just phrase it in another way that doesn’t reveal the mission]. Closure would be Izuku accepting that Heroes can cry too, and admitting he’s not okay. Instead, we have this

The scene feels... incomplete? Like there’s no knot at the end of the rope. Izuku is being comforted, but he’s not acknowledging his own feelings of sadness.

In fact, he’s shoveling food into his mouth to stop himself from crying, to shut himself up, to try and move forward and get past his little outburst.

I would go as far as to say this is self hatred eating, trying to quell that vulnerable part inside

I wouldn’t say Izuku HATES himself now. Rather, he just makes connections to his past quirkless self in his mind. It’s the negative emotion connection

Feeling weak? Well, you’re still like your quirkless self before! You’re still not good enough and useless!

Not strong enough? Sounds like back when you were quirkless! All weak and helpless! You can’t help anyone, which is why you need to get stronger, so you can move on from your past self!

Crying? Just like when you were quirkless! You always cried back then, like a helpless kid! You can’t be like that anymore, since you are now All Might’s Successor and A Hero, so stop crying! You’re not allowed to cry anymore!

Do you see what I’m getting at here? Izuku continuously represses these emotions as he gets stronger because he connects them to when he was quirkless. If you associate certain behaviors and emotions with how you were during a vulnerable and traumatic time in your life, you’re going to want to shove those emotions down so you don’t repeat what happened back then [in this case, Izuku sees himself being vulnerable as weak, and he saw himself as weak when he was quirkless, so he’s trying not to be vulnerable anymore].

And the scary thing is, now, we can even see the hatred in real time. I’m sure there are other examples in the manga, but one scene is very prominent in my mind, and it’s this one

Izuku is so incredibly strong now, he has saved many people, but he still can’t view himself as anything other than “useless” or “helpless” unless he powers through death itself just to break himself more. He almost feels like he HAS to do that in order to be seen as worthy, for himself and others. When he’s struggling, bleeding and heavily injured, he yells at himself as if it’s all his fault.

It’s not about whether he’s aware he’s actively dying or not. To him, being worthless and useless is infinitely worse than dying.

Actually, the way Izuku practically yells at himself in this panel reminds me of when he was walking home in chapter 1 after his chat with All Might [shown above when talking about All Might’s impact]

There are two translated versions of this actually that ring alarm bells in my head. There is the panel already pictured above, but I chose this panel too because I simply think it hits harder

“Don’t cry! You knew already, right?! This is reality...”

In either translation, he’s chiding himself. For crying. For being emotional.

And once again, I totally think this stems from emotional neglect. Trying not to get too personal here, but I know what this feels like, and I know the effect it has had on me. I can’t be vulnerable or spill my feelings in front of people, it just feels illegal or smthg. Like it shouldn’t be done. And like... if you’re taught from an early age that, one way or another, your feelings don’t matter and that nobody is going to pay attention to you, why try, right?

Then you just begin to Not Feel Properly, and you become incapable of expressing your feelings in a healthy manner

Current examples of this?

Izuku literally not giving himself time to process anything, like worry, grief, sadness. If anything, the only emotion he gives time for is anger. And he specifically directs it at All For One, cause that’s his target. [we saw little bits of this in War Arc but it also applies to the current arc]

He can’t cry. He feels emotional, sure. But he never lets his tears shed.

And one last bit of evidence

I’d say most if not all of these sound about right

In conclusion I wanna hug Izuku

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS DAYLIGHT  Vol.5 Sakamaki Kanato [TRACK 2]

Original title: すれ違う心

Source: Diabolik Lovers Daylight Vol. 5 Sakamaki Kanato

Audio: Here (Huge thank you to @filthyhelplessworld​ for providing the audio!)

Seiyuu: Kaji Yuki

Translator’s note: The MC’s health is obviously getting worse and I really fear for her with a boyfriend whose best solution is to completely disregard her concerns and lock her up in the underground dungeon. I’m still betting that all of this karma will come and bite Kanato in the ass though. I’m just waiting for the angsty stuff to kick in because he needs a taste of reality.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 + Epilogue

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 2: Hearts Growing Apart

You are in the kitchen making sweets.

*Thud*

*Ping ping*

Kanato enters the kitchen.

“Hm...I have no complaints about the scent. Is this the sponge for the cake?”

You nod.

“Your hands have stopped moving. Please continue.”

You continue beating the egg whites in a bowl.

[00:24] “Fufu...Cut the cookies into bear shapes, okay? I want two kinds, both chewy and crispy. I grow tired if there’s no variety in the texture after all. ...Ah, I’d like my pudding on the firmer side with bittersweet caramel sauce on top, okay? I’m especially picky when it comes to chocolate. The cacaー”

Your movements stop again as you grow dizzy.

“...? What’s wrong? Now’s not the time to rest. I want to eat these soon so stop dawdlーー”

You nearly collapse, knocking over the bowl with cream in the process.

*THUD*

[00:56] “...! Ah!! The cream…!!”

*Rustle*

“Tsk...It turned out so well too...This all happened because you were spacing out…!”

You explain.

[01:13] “Hah…! You’re at it again with the sick act? Whenever things don’t go your way, you always blame it on feeling unwell! I bet you’re feeling faint because you let one of the other guys suck your blood, am I wrong!? Was it...Reiji again, perhaps? Even though you promised you would stay away from him!”

“SHUT UP!!”

*Thud*

[01:39] “I thought you were actually being a good girl and making the sweets I asked for but in the end, this is what I get! After you promised me several times too...Honestly...I’m so through with you!!”

*Rustle rustle*

“Haah…”

Kanato starts dragging you along.

“You want to know where we’re going? Oh no, you’re not going anywhere from here on out.”

*TIMESKIP*

*Cling cling*

*Rustle*

[02:23] “No, I won’t stop. Someone like you deserves no better than to be locked up inside the underground dungeon like this.”

You protest.

“Haah...You only have yourself to blame. For breaking our promise and letting someone else suck your blood.”

You deny it.

“SHUT UP! How many times are you going to lie to me? PLEASE DON’T MAKE A FOOL OUT OF ME BY ASSUMING I’D BELIEVE YOUR WORDS OF DENIAL!”

You beg.

[02:58] “...If you want me to listen to the whole story, then promise me you will never tell a lie again.”

You promise.

“Haah...Okay then. I suppose I wouldn’t mind listening a little.”

You start explaining.

“...Your health actually has been in poor condition, you say? You sure are insistent about that part.”

You continue talking.

[03:28] “So? ‘At this rate you will ーー’ What? You’re not going to tell me you’ll die, right?” 

You remain quiet.

“Kuh. CUT IT OUーー”

You nod.

“Huh? ...Say, did you...perhaps nod just now? Do you truly believe you will die if things continue down this path?”

You nod again.

“That...doesn’t make sense.”

You tell him it’s the truth.

[04:14] “You’re just joking when you say you might not have much time left, right?”

You shake your head.

“You want me to mentally prepare myself for the worst…? Ridiculous...I mean, there’s just no way you would die, right!?”

You try to make him face reality.

“SHUT UP!!”

You speak up again.

“SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! YOU JUST CAN’T DIE!! ...Stay here until I give you permission to leave!”

Kanato stomps away.

“Kuh…!”

*Thud*

*TIMESKIP*

[04:59] “Nn...Here. You should try one of the cookies as well. You haven’t been eating at all this whole time, have you?”

You politely refuse.

“Even if you’re lacking an appetite, you should be able to at least eat the things I bring you, no?”

You hesitantly grab a cookie.

[05:26] “Mmh. Better. Umー Where were we again…? Ah, right! I remember now! Honestly, I was so surprised to find out there was another human out there who has blood as sweet as yours! Well, I just so happened to cross paths with her on my way home from school, of course. ...You probably shouldn’t give yourself too much credit for having special blood. If you continue to be disobedient, you might just find yourself thrown aside by me at some pointーー Just kidding. Fufufu…”

You remain quiet.

[06:19] “Hey? Are you listening? You didn't nod off while I was talking, did you?”

You shake your head.

“Good. You’ve been quiet this whole time though. You should say something as well. Anything will do. What has been on your mind today, or what you would like to do if I were to free you from down here, for example.”

You tell him you want to see the outside world. 

[06:56] “Hmph. What will you gain from watching the scenery outside? Your eyes should only ever be on me.”

You go silent again. 

“Hah! Ridiculous! I’m here trying my best to strike up a conversation, yet you have nothing else to tell me?”

You bring up your health.

[07:24] “Aah...But I’ve heard enough about that. I’m sick and tired of hearing you say how you’ll ‘die’ or whatever…”

You try and reason with him.

“STOP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! ...Haah. We were having such a lovely chat as well, but you completely ruined it.”

Kanato gets up.

“My mood has been ruined. I will excuse myself for today.”

He leaves.

*Thud*

[08:01] ( You told me I was doing the wrong thing time after time. Trying to convince me that locking you up in that dim lit underground dungeon would only speed up the process and lead to an early death. You would even burst out into tears, worried about what would happen to me once I’m left behind. 

[08:19] Every time, I would grow upset and refuse to listen to you, covering my ears while simply turning a blind eye to everything, as I kept you imprisoned down there. Because I truly believed that if I kept at it long enough, you would eventually give in and stop saying that you were dying.

[08:42] ...I wonder why I didn’t just accept your words back then? Why didn’t I try and do something about the abnormal condition of your heart, even though I had taken notice of it? I never thought I would one day ask myself those questions over and over again. )

*TIMESKIP*

Kanato approaches you in the dungeon.

[09:10] “You seem rather out of it today. Do you have any idea how much time has passed since you were brought here?”

You shake your head.

“I suppose you don’t? ーー Or perhaps…”

*Cling*

“I guess you no longer care, do you? After all, right now the only thing which matters to you, is the person standing in front of you, right? Correct?”

You nod.

[09:50] “Fufu. You’ve become such a good girl. Well then, come here. I will let you embrace me as your reward.”

You move closer and wrap your arms around him.

*Cling cling*

[10:12] “...Haah...We will be together forever, okay? Please don’t say you’ll die ever again. ...You’re not going anywhere. You can’t even run. It’ll be just the two of us for eternity. I’m sure you feel the same way right now?”

You reluctantly nod.

[10:50] “...What was that just now? It appeared to me that you only nodded because you had no other choice. I can tell you’re hiding how you truly feel. ...Tell me loud and clear. How do you feel?”

You keep quiet. 

“Haha...Hahaha...So you really can’t let go of the possibility that you’ll die one day, no matter how many times I tell you that we’ll be together forever, can you? ...Cut it out alreaーー”

You speak up.

[11:31] “...’But’, what?”

You tell him he will be okay and can simply find another human to feed off of. 

“Did you just...tell me that I’ll be okay even if you die, because there’s plenty of replacements for you out there?”

You nod.

[11:50] “So...That’s all what matters? No way...What makes you believe you have the right to decide that on your own? Who told you to think that way!? Well...I won’t deny that I discovered someone with sweet blood in town the other day, but you’re still on a whole different level! ...ABOVE ALL!!”

*Cling*

[12:19] “Didn’t I tell you just now? That you won’t go anywhere, nor can you run away, so the two of us will be together forever…! Tsk...Yet...Kuh...Yet you have the nerve to…!! ...Honestly...I’ve had enough of this.”

You try to comfort him.

“Hah! ...Stay away from me.”

He walks away.

[12:57] “I’m sick of talking to you. Or rather, I suppose you could say that my love for you has faded.”

*Cling*

“That’s the key to those chains. From today onwards, you’re a free woman. I no longer care about you. ーー Just like you said, there’s plenty of people who can replace you out there. ...Farewell.”

Kanato leaves.

[13:38] “...Kuh!! She’ll die? Ridiculous! There’s just no way I would be left behind on my own. Yet she keeps on saying that she’ll die and to make matters worse, even has the nerve to tell me I could simply replace her! Where on earth did she get that ludicrous idea from!? ...I should just push her away for a bit. I’ll make her regret her words! Until she lets go of those ridiculous thoughts!”

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

PART ONE

Pairing: Josh & female!Reader Warnings:  None yet.  Summary: Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: Here we are everyone. This fic has been a long time in the making, but I’m pretty dang happy with it so far! I made Josh extra lovable and squishy for you all. I hope you enjoy! This fic is edited by the amazing and gorgeous, @lantern-inthenight. And big thanks as always to @myownparadise96. I literally could not have found the motivation to do this fic without you. 

MASTERPOST 

taglist: @myownparadise96 @n1-party-anthem @valleyd0ll @bigblack-catattack @guitarfingers @thebohemianpenguin @oblvions @hansonobsessed​ @satingrass-maidensfair​

The scenery in Michigan was vastly different than back home. You were used to and comfortable with the nearly unforgiving heat of the American South West, but the farther away you got from home, the more foreign everything seemed. The scrubland slowly started being replaced by emerald green grass and dense forests of towering pines. Once you hit Illinois, little farmsteads were scattered along every road you took, boasting fields thick with corn and beans. 

It was a bit over a full day’s worth of driving. You had originally thought you could just drive right through - after all, you were young and you had plenty of caffeine at the ready. In reality, you wound up digesting the trip over two days. 

You were a fortunate enough person that you had a reliable car, which made up for the fact that it wasn’t very pretty to look at. It didn’t exactly sip gas, but that had never even been a concern before this - it wasn’t very often that you left home, let alone make a trip across the country. But you were able to breathe a sigh of relief when you started seeing the exit signs for Ann Arbor. 

Your parents had been a bit judgemental about you picking a school so far away - they were even worse homebodies than you, and they knew that you being across the country meant they wouldn’t be seeing you until the school year was over - but there was no way you could turn down an opportunity like this one. You had worked your ass off to qualify for a scholarship, knowing full well that there was no way you could afford higher education otherwise. MU hadn’t been your very first choice but with one of the better programs in the country for your desired field, you just couldn’t turn it down. 

You had to pull over into a McDonald’s parking lot to pull up the address you were looking for and program it into your phone’s GPS before continuing further into the city. Your mother had been particularly wary about your living situation. See, she was a woman that adamantly liked to have a plan and then stick to it - she didn’t see any value in just letting things happen. “Go with the flow” wasn’t in her vocabulary, but you’d always romanticised the idea. Which was why, when you pulled up to the apartment that you were going to be living in for the next year, it was the first time you’d ever seen it. 

You had found the listing on the Facebook marketplace for the area, looked at a couple of pictures, and signed the lease agreement online - all without knowing what you were really in for. You’d been informed that you’d have a roommate when you’d contacted the landlord, but she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the person other than that. All she really said was “no pets, no smoking, and one month’s rent for the security deposit. You had told yourself that it didn’t really matter what the situation was as long as the other person wasn’t outwardly malicious and the place wasn’t infested with pests or anything, even though you knew it mattered a little. 

An audible sigh of relief left your lips when you pulled into the apartment parking lot and found that your new home looked well kept. The building had old, slide-up windows, but the brick siding was clean, and the shrubs that lined the property were trimmed and neat. You and your back seat stuffed to max capacity with house plants had made it - and with only a bit of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters for damages. 

After you got out of the car, you grabbed your very favorite potted cactus and found your way into the building, meandering down the dim hall until you came upon the door marked 6. You hadn’t been given a key yet, so you knocked with your free hand and waited until you heard someone shuffling around inside.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous - obviously, you were - but more than anything you were excited. Anxious, maybe? That seemed like the right word. 

The door opened to reveal a boy, around your age, hair a mess of curls on the top and shorn tighter to the sides of his head. You were immediately taken aback by the depth in his eyes, chocolatey and warm. 

“What’s up?” he asked casually, leaning against the door frame, a pair of old-school headphones dangling from his hand. 

You frowned at him slightly, suddenly terrified you’d gotten the wrong apartment number. You weren’t sure how you’d live with that embarrassment, especially if you had to live next door to him - you’d just be that stupid girl that didn’t even know where she lived.  “Oh, I think I’m your new roommate? This is number six, right?” You peered around the other side of the open door, just to confirm.

A beaming grin spread over his soft face, showing you his blindingly white teeth and the deepest pair of dimples you’d ever seen. “Oh, cool, yeah. Come on in.”

He stepped aside, giving a dramatically flourished bow as a gesture for you to enter. You obliged, and even though this was your new house too, you paused and waited as he shut the door behind you. 

“Sorry, I was expecting you yesterday, so.” He trailed off with a sheepish smile and then extended his free hand to you. “Anyway, I’m Josh.” 

You shifted your cactus to one arm so you could shake his hand. “Y/N. Yeah, sorry, it took me longer than I expected to get here. Which is why my stuff apparently showed up before I did.”

You eyed around the apartment, spotting boxes of your things in piles. The original plan your parents had come up with was to have you rent a U-Haul, but since you’d never driven anything bigger than your Camry, you had quickly shot that idea down. After some expert negotiating, they had agreed to hire a moving company. You hadn’t had the balls to ask what a service like that had set them back - decided instead that it was better if you didn’t know. 

“Oh yeah,” he replied, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It all showed up yesterday at like noon. One of the boxes was open a little, and I saw records so I looked through them to make sure you weren’t some kind of freak.”

It was more of a statement than a warning, and the smile he gave you showed not even a shred of an apology so you just smiled back. “Find anything you like?”

He turned on his heel and headed into the kitchen - connected to the living room by a huge square archway. “Your music taste is,” He paused, opening a cupboard and pulling down two mismatched glasses. “Eclectic.”

You laughed at him, bending to gently set your plant down on a side table. “That’s true.” 

“But I found plenty I could listen to, so I guess you’re okay. You want some juice?” he asked as he held up a paper carton of store brand orange juice

. 

“That would be lovely,” you agreed, standing stick straight the way you did when in the presence of new company. “My dad used to take me to a lot of thrift stores and we’d go home with a minimum of two records per trip.”

“I love thrifting,” he said simply, giving you an alarmingly serious look. “There are three here, I think. Every once in a while you can find something really worth keeping. I have kind of a ‘catch and release’ policy where if I don’t instantly know what I’m going to do with an item, I leave it there, but I think - like - a third of my wardrobe is from thrift stores.”

You listened, feeling oddly entranced by the way he was handing you thoughts as they came to him. There was something truly honest about it - a quality people back home didn’t seem to have. It was charming. 

He brought your glass of juice to you and then motioned to the rest of the apartment. “You want the grand tour of Casa De Joshua-” He gave you a pointed look and a cheesy grin. “And Y/N?” 

You breathed a laugh at him, nodding as you sipped. “Please.”

“Okay, try not to get lost - this is obviously the living room. I do most of my living here as the name would suggest. I found this couch on the side of the road - actually almost all of my furniture is adopted.” As he explained, he was gesturing to items like Vanna White.

The couch looked. Well-loved. You could tell just at a glance that it was probably past it’s prime when Josh had stumbled upon it, but it did look comfortable, and it wasn’t like you had a couch to offer, so you were happy with it. 

“I have this TV but it’s really only for movies and stuff because I’m twenty-two and I’d rather die than pay for cable. But there are literally hundreds of DVDs in the TV stand that you are welcome to peruse at your leisure,” he informed, his hands gesturing almost arbitrarily as he talked. 

You followed as he moved on through the archway. “This is the kitchen. All of the food lives here. There’s lots of stuff, but I try to just make two bigger meals per day. I don’t have a real ice tray so I’ve been using a chocolate mold- Well anyway, our ice will be in the shape of wiener dogs.”

You were shocked at the laugh that escaped you, genuine and uncontrolled. He grinned over at you, clearly also surprised - but pleased with himself for getting the reaction he was aiming for. 

“I think I can live with that.” 

“Good,” he agreed simply, giving you a new kind of smile - something sweeter. After a beat, he motioned down the hall with his eyes, letting you lead. “The bathroom is this way. The water takes like three or four minutes to get hot. I realized that I have a lot of products for some reason, but I condensed them all into this one area in the corner just in case my new roommate was a girl, and you are so that’s great. I’ll probably get a shelf.”

There was a proud quality to his voice like he felt gentlemanly for letting you have all the space you needed. For some reason, that made you feel warm and fuzzy. 

“And what if your new roommate had been a boy?” you inquired with a smirk. 

He put a finger on his chin, taking on a contemplative look for you. “Hmm. Then I guess I slowly would have moved my stuff back to the cabinet - probably just one thing per day so he wouldn’t notice. Unless he had a lot of makeup or something, then I’d just let him have it.” 

He grinned as you teasingly shook your head. 

“This way is the sleeping quarters. My room is there on the right and yours to the left.”

You stepped into your new room and let a sigh of relief. Two huge windows took up a lot of the far wall, framed underneath by large sills. The space was bright and roomier than you’d pictured. Your bed was set up in the very middle of the room, but you already knew exactly where you wanted it to go. For some reason, you had been concerned that you wouldn’t like the space, but it was kind of perfect. 

“This is great,” you breathed, turning to him and giving him a sly grin. “Wanna give me a hand moving my furniture around?”

He pretended to consider for a moment until you spoke again. 

“My mom sent money for pizza while I get stuff unpacked,” you said coyly. “If you needed any convincing.”

He laughed, showing you his teeth. “You drive a hard bargain. Okay, I’ll help as long as I get to look through your stuff while we move it.”

You gave him a questioning look, earning a one-shouldered shrug in return. He looked benign enough standing there, propped against the door frame with a goofy upturn to his lips, so you relented.  

“Deal,” you agreed.

You were positive you would not have been able to move stuff without his help. For being a slender boy, he seemed to easily be able to get things where they needed to be. He dutifully helped you shove your furniture into place - your bed against the window wall, your desk and vanity on the wall with your closet door. Then, bless his little heart, he helped you move it all again when you decided you didn’t like the arrangement (but not without some light griping). 

One by one, you brought in your boxes from the living room and you allowed him to poke through them, perched on your bed. He flipped through your books, thumbing pages of ones that piqued his interest - you could only imagine that he was already planning on borrowing some of them. He reacted similarly to your framed photos, as he unwrapped them from their packing paper.

When you got your record player set up, he put on a vinyl and started to hang your art prints on the wall where you instructed him to. The look of concentration on his face was rather endearing as he held a few nails between his teeth and hammered them into the wall, one by one. There was a time or two you were convinced that he was going to mutilate his thumb, but he didn’t, and when the last picture was hung, you breathed a sigh of relief. 

You called in a pizza, adorned with his requested toppings as you hung your clothes into your closet, your phone tucked against your ear and shoulder for maximum efficiency. 

Plants collected on your bed until there was no more room for them - after that, he started setting them on the floor as he brought them in from your car. He didn’t seem to be judging the sheer amount of them, even though he had every right to. 

“It’s going to look like a jungle in here,” he stated finally as he took a bite out of a slice of pizza that he was holding like a taco, his eyes raking over all of the foliage scattered around your room. Rather than sounding like he was teasing, his tone seemed excited. 

You grinned at him, starting to arrange them on the window sill and your bookshelf that had only ever served you as a plant shelf since you’d bought it. “Plants are my passion. Botany major,” you explained as you fluffed up your Monstera’s huge leaves. 

“Ooh.” He raised his eyebrows at you, pulling one of his legs up underneath him on your bed - now fitted with sheets. “I think that’s going to be nice. Give it some life in here.”

You grabbed another slice from the pizza box on your nightstand and tried to think of the right tone of voice to use to ask the next question. “How long have you lived here by yourself?”

He hummed, eyes flicking around distantly as he thought. “Well, I’ve lived here just over a year, and my first roommate dropped out and moved back home about...six months ago?”

“Have you been lonely? You seem like a social guy.” You gave him an empathetic look but he just shrugged at you. You hadn’t known him long enough to know for sure, but you suspected he was more affected than he was letting on. 

“I mean, a little lonely. But I got used to it for the most part.” He paused for a good couple of seconds before a smile spread across his lips. “And Penny’s kept me company.”

“Oh, does your girlfriend stay here too?” you prompted, trying to remember if you’d seen any feminine looking items lying around that weren’t yours.

“What? No,” he said under a chuckle and stood, gesturing for you to follow him across the hall. 

The second you walked through the doorway, you were met with the smell of incense sticks and linen. His room was dimmer than yours and kind of cramped with all of his mismatching furniture, but he had a huge bed - you thought it could easily fit three people in it. There were some clothes strewn about around a laundry hamper by the door and you tried to not be jealous that his closet seemed to be about twice the size of yours. 

He crossed the room to crouch in front of a coffee table that he seemed to be using as a catch-all. The varnish was worn off the top of it in rings because sitting on the coffee table was a globe of water and a calico colored goldfish swimming around aimlessly inside of it. 

“Ah, so this is Penny,” you giggled as you bent over next to him. When the fish spotted him, it rose to the surface of the water, opening its mouth in demand for food.

He grinned down at it. “Light of my life. We’re not allowed to have pets but I figured that a fish didn’t count.”

You hummed, admittedly a bit charmed by the whole situation. “But don’t goldfish require a lot of space?”

The smile fell from his face, adopting a level of concern you hadn’t yet seen from him as he peered over at you. “Do they?”

Immediately, you felt guilty for putting that look on his features. Your brain kick-started - trying to think of a way to make it right again. “I think so? Maybe we can find her a small tank? Put a few little plants in there for her?”

Josh nodded at you, stroking his fingers over the glass with a frown. “I’m a bad dad.”

“No, no!” you assured, putting your hand on his head but then removing it instantly when you realized that you didn’t really know him, he’d just already made you feel like you did. Either way, you figured it would be inappropriate to touch him. “You’re great. She looks really happy.”

“She’s great at begging for food, so don’t get tricked,” Josh instructed after a moment, seemingly able to put his concerns aside to jest you.

You nodded in agreement. “I’ll be ever vigilant,” you promised, making him smile again. 

He stood back up, so you did as well. 

“Well, I’ll give you some time to get comfortable in your room,” Josh said, sitting back on his bed. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?” 

“I promise I will,” you assured, tapping your hand on the doorframe on your way out. 

By the time the sun was set, your room was shockingly well put together. The emotional rollercoaster that was the album Rumors helped you keep on task, losing yourself in the music so it didn’t feel like work at all. You hadn’t been expecting it to come along so quickly, but you guessed that was because you hadn’t anticipated such a friendly roommate. The nesting had always been your favorite part, so you took your time to enjoy placing out all your knick-knacks and photos. 

You took a break to shower when you decided you were done for the day, reveling in the feeling of the water after such a long time in your car - He was absolutely right about how long it took to warm up from ice cold. When you got out and changed into your pajamas, Josh was sitting in the living room with a laptop across his legs. 

“You wanna chill?” he asked when he heard you padding down the hall, shutting the lid of it and setting it on a side table. “Or if you’re too tired, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. I’d love to talk.” You sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of room between you as you pulled your knees up to your chin. “Tell me more about yourself,” you requested, tugging a blanket from a beat-up wicker basket on the floor and wrapping it around your body.

“Hmm, okay,” he started. You wondered how long it had been since he had to introduce himself to someone new. “I’m from a tiny little town here in Michigan. I’m the oldest of four - two brothers and a sister. My brother, Jake, also attends MU and lives just off campus.”

You frowned at him. “Wait, why wouldn’t he live with you?” you asked through a disbelieving laugh. 

“He lived with me long enough,” Josh explained in a humored tone. “There are only so many people where I’m from and well - we wanted to meet new people, you know?” 

“I guess I should be grateful for that.” 

“Yeah, probably,” he teased and then paused to think. “I’m in performing arts - I’m actually putting on a production around Christmas with some elementary school kids.”

You suppressed the aww that was threatening to pass your lips. “You like kids?”

He beamed you a smile, shaking his head. “Love them. I want to have like ten of them someday.”

The thought of him surrounded by kids made you soften. You were genuinely shocked about how easy he was to talk to - how easy he was to like. You had never thought in a million years you’d get along with your roommate so well, let alone the first day meeting them. 

“I hope you get to,” you said as genuinely as you could muster, prompting him to give you a grateful smile. 

A yawn escaped you before you could hide it, and you quickly breathed an apology, but he just waved you off. 

“You must be exhausted from that drive,” he said, his voice soft. “You should get some sleep.”

You nodded in agreement and gave him a thankful smile. “Is it okay if I sleep out here?”

The look on his face was quizzical, forcing a laugh from you. “Why would you do that?” 

“I have this tradition where whenever I’m in a new place, I always sleep in the living room on the first night. It’s good luck.”   

“Whatever you say.” His lips pulled back into an unconvinced smirk. “Well, yeah, you live here now too, so you can sleep wherever you’d like.”

He disappeared into his room for only a moment before popping his head back out, fingers wrapped around the door frame.

 “Do you mind if I join you?” 

You tried not to look too taken aback by the question, but you could feel your cheeks flushing warm. You raked your eyes along the couch, entirely positive that there wasn’t enough space for the two of you to lay out on it together fully - at least, not without being pressed flush against one another. However, his face looked innocent and soft - not a single tint of mischief colored across his features.

“Yeah, that-. I guess that’s okay,” you agreed sheepishly with a shrug. “But I’m not sure we’ll both fit if I’m being honest.”

He frowned questioningly at you, his brows lacing together until he realized what you thought he meant. His face instantly turned a light shade of pink to match yours. “No, no,” he quickly assured in between a breathy laugh. “I’m not going to sleep with you - I’ll take the recliner.” 

“Oh, right.” You gave a nervous laugh of your own, cursing yourself out in your head for being so dull. 

You were still well embarrassed as you made a nest of blankets on the couch and he brought out a pillow for you when you realized yours were still tucked deep in your bag of bedding. When each of you was situated on your respective pieces of furniture, he flicked the light off with a comfortable sigh. 

It was silent for a moment before he spoke again, his voice taking on a tone that was far too smug for your liking. “You were awfully quick to agree to sleep next to me. You don’t have a crush on me, do you?” 

You knew he was teasing, but your heart rate still managed to pick up under the pressure. You had never been particularly good with awkward social situations; you rolled your eyes in the dark, thankful he couldn’t see how red you were. “No, Josh. I do not have a crush on you.”

“Okay,” he said through a melodic laugh, and you got the feeling that he’d gotten the reaction he was aiming for from you. “Should we be best friends though?”

You snorted a laugh of your own, wanting to be annoyed at how likable he was, but falling short. “You are the most peculiar person I’ve ever met, I think.” You curled up, clutching your blanket tight to your body. “But yes. We can be friends.”

“Okay, cool - I’ll order matching t-shirts for us.” You could hear the pleased grin he was wearing, making you feel warm and cozy. You pulled the worn blanket up to your chin.

“See to it that you do.” 

Author’s Note: okay, I hope you guys like it! please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list or removed from it. I’m using the same taglist from my Jake!fic, so no hard feelings if you don’t want to be tagged!

[marvels-writings]

Piece of Your Heart

Natasha Romanoff Masterlist

Requested by Anon: Hi would you mind terribly writing a established R/Nat fic where R was fighting Thanos with Tony and Nat thinks she got dusted because obviously Nat has heard nothing from her but really she’s been on that ship with Tony the whole time? I love your writing and I’d love reading something like that it’d make me so emotional 💖

Word Count: 2.2k (longish and an amazing mix of angst and fluff)

A/N: Damn I loved writing this, and I wrote it to a particular song so it ended up revolving around dancing more than I thought it would. It’s really good though and I hope you like it as much as I do!!

Dull white light shone down; music blanketed the room, feet shuffled across the marble floor. Reflections played in the mirrors, all showing the same image. The image of a woman with bright red hair, dancing alone, trying to fill the piece of her heart she lost.

Natasha moved elegantly across the floor, twirling and twisting where she saw necessary. She made a perfect pirouette across the floor. Shifting her weight across the pointe shoes, the redhead moved to the other side of the room with ease. Another perfect pirouette as she waited for something she knew wouldn't happen.

Strange, pirouettes are always perfect. There's never the chance for it to be flawed, for there to be a mistake. Stumbling wasn't an option for her, falling a pleasure denied. Yet, her feet faltered, losing her balance as she caught herself on the metal bar.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she saw the redness of her eyes matching her hair, the dark circles underneath her eyes. Her face, devoid of any emotion except for loss. Ignoring everything she could, she moved back to the center of the room, dancing once again.

It wasn't right without you. The room was a little too big, the music a little too quiet, Natasha's heart too empty. You'd always joked that you held a piece of her heart and she a part of yours. Never did she think the joke might be more real.

She faltered again, losing her balance without you to catch her. Sighing, she picked herself back up, trying to be the perfect pirouette they trained her to be. Her feet always fell to the side, refusing to keep balance. Reaching down, she slipped off the pointe shoes before trying again.

The cold floor served as a mild shock as she continued. She let go of being perfect; she was letting herself be flawed again, letting herself feel her loss. Her hips swayed in a broken rhythm, shuffling imperfectly across the floor. It wasn't how they trained her.

It wasn't perfect, not near it. It was how Natasha danced with you, throwing herself away to feel you.

Her skin remembered the way your hands rested on her waist, your fingers tapping a steady beat on her ribs. Her feet recalled the way you danced without rhythm, letting the music take control instead. She remembered how you hummed the tune of the song, the notes vibrating through you. She remembered the sweet nothings you whispered to her, words she'd die to hear again.

Wanting desperately to feel your presence, even the ghost of your touch, she reached out her arms, pretending they were around her as she swayed from side to side. Her eyes fluttered shut, seeing you rather than the darkness of her eyelids.

The way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the lines on your face as you lit up in a bright grin. The way the light always hit your face in just the right way, making you look like an angel. Maybe you were an angel, one that she couldn't be sure was truly gone.

Natasha had almost begged you not to go after Tony. She should've known she could never convince you out of saving someone. If only you were here to save her now. She didn't know if you were dusted, gone like the rest of her family, or just lost in space, waiting to be whole again.

For now, part of her was whole again. She could almost feel your breath across her neck as you rested your head on her shoulder. You felt so near to her, even if it was just for a blissful few seconds. Natasha let her eyes remain shut, dancing by herself, clinging onto to ghost of you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Soft music played from your earbuds, enveloping you in a dream of their own rather than your nightmarish reality. The beat reminded you of dancing slowly with someone you loved. You leaned back in one of the seats, letting your eyes flutter shut as you absorbed yourself into another daydream.

Everything about her came back to you when you closed your eyes. It was almost a nightmare to keep them open, to keep yourself occupied in an awful place without her. The ship was so devoid of color, filled with dull blue and purple hues rather than the bright red you craved oh so desperately.

Curling into yourself, you pulled the jacket around your shoulders tighter, trying to keep any warmth you could. It was colder when you were daydreaming rather than working. Maybe remembering what you might have lost can take away from what you have.

Now, you didn't have much. A crashing ship with a billionaire from Earth and one of the daughters of Thanos. At least everything would be over tomorrow. No more crushing daydreams of the past, no more hopeful dreams of Natasha being with you.

You heard Tony record another message for Pepper in a different part of the ship. Pulling out your earbuds with a sigh, you decided to do the same. Looking around to make sure the words you only intended for her, you took out a piece of your suit.

Never had you meant for it to function in this way. Never did you think it would record a dying message. With a sigh and a heavy heart, you propped it in front of you and set it to scan you. It was going to take a hologram, to record not only your words but also your movements.

Taking another minute, you pulled your hair back into a ponytail, trying to look better for her. Leaning back in the chair, you let out another sigh as it beeped. Now that you were about to record your words, you didn't know what to say.

Should you tell her you're sorry? It would be a lie to say that; you wanted to help your family, you don't regret that. You regret leaving her alone, but not leaving. Biting your lip, you started speaking in a vain hope that the right words would come to you.

"Hey Tasha," You began, breathing in and looking away from the hologram. "If and hopefully when you find this recording, please don't show it to anyone else."

Chuckling, you turned towards the recorder again. Now, you didn't know what to say to Natasha. You tried to imagine that she was here, sitting in front of you, waiting. Instead of her apprehension, all you could see was her beauty. It all made you only miss her more.

"I miss you. So damn much Tasha." You continued, running a hand through your ponytail. "I always dreamt of going to space, but now that I'm here."

"It's so lonely without you here."

The void of space stared back at you when you turned away. It taunted you, keeping you away from whom you wanted most. Letting you stare into the emptiness of it instead of the fullness of your dreams. Tearing your eyes away; you turned back to the recorder.

"I thought that if I left, we could have that happy ending when I come back." You continued, trying desperately to put into words what you felt. "But now, I don't know if we're ever going to have that ending."

Your eyes fluttered shut, letting you into a surreal daydream; the house you'd imagined buying lined the inside of your eyelids. Natasha joined you on the large patio set, her arms around your waist as you looked outside. Maybe you had children. They would be running around the front yard, calling out to you while your wife whispered sweet nothings.

It all faded into silence as you took another step into reality. The silence surrounded you, taking away any hope, any dreams you might have ever had. Taking the last step into this dreaded nightmare, you fell back into this reality.

"Tony and Nebula are here with me," you croaked, trying to change the topic. Bringing yourself back, you took another deep breath as your dreams faded back into the void you'd been staring. You began talking about them instead; everything they were trying to do, letting it distract you for a treasured few moments.

It helped, just for a bit. A minute passed while you talked about them, stopping with a loud sigh. You bit your lip, clawing through your memories for something, anything else to talk about. All you saw was her.

"I wish I could dance with you," You whispered, biting your lip tightly. The familiar sting of tears came to your eyes at the memory. You shook your head, clearing yourself of it, adamant not to cry. Leaning forward, you tapped on the recorder.

"If and when this is all over," You whispered, offering a timid smile. The memory came back to you again, this time you didn't stop it. You paused, letting all of your emotions wash over you.

The timid, lovesick smile as your hands slid around her waist, pulling her closer to you. Her warm breath fanning across your face as you leaned your foreheads together. The tingle of her eyelashes fluttering against yours. Her whispers of love and adoration as you swayed slowly, dancing.

"I'll always be dreaming of dancing with you."

The recording stopped, your fingers pressing the small red button. Pulling away from it, you leaned back in the chair again, tugging your jacket tighter around you. The cold seeped back into you, leaking into your bones, making you shiver.

Sighing, you curled further into yourself, forcing yourself to sleep. Maybe if you weren't awake, it would be over faster. It wasn't, you kept clearing your mind of your dreams just to fall asleep. Eventually, you were, oblivious to the world around you.

That was until a rumbling brought you back.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

The same rumbling sounded where Natasha was dancing. Her motions stopped at the sound, looking outside the window hopefully. Nothing was there, just the same pitch-black she had grown accustomed to. A glow emanated from above it, casting everything in a light golden tint.

Her feet pounded the floor as she rushed out the door, towards the glow. The sound was accompanied by feet following her, rushing as much as she was. Steve and Pepper rushed behind her. All for the small sliver of hope that someone else survived the snap and made it home.

It's strange how hope is always associated with light. It's as if Natasha had wandered in the dark, stumbling her way through till hope showed her the way out. You can never truly find anything in the darkness without the slightest shred of hope, of light.

The light was what she ran towards, staring up at the glowing ship as it touched down on the grass outside the compound. Her heart thudded in her chest, watching as the ship's doors opened. Three sets of feet appeared, walking and stumbling down the steps.

Tony leaned against a blue woman, staggering slowly down the steps. His bones are shown through his tank top, cuts on his face bleeding. His eyes were dull, glancing around the compound, lighting up only when they stumbled across Pepper.

Steve ran up to him, helping him off and talking to him. But all she could see was you, stumbling out of the ship by yourself.

Your hand clung desperately to the railing, not wanting help but needing it anyway. The t-shirt you wore was a few sizes too big, your skin had lost some of its tone, your hair messy and in a ponytail. It was still you, you who had promised her a happy ending.

Natasha ran up to you, breathing erratic, heartbeat pounding in her ears as she wrapped her arms around you. Her breath hit your neck, followed by hot tears on your shirt. Your arms wrapped around her tightly, your face tucked into the crook of her neck, breathing her in.

The redhead shook in fear, scared she was going to let go of you again, scared you were going to disappear. She was terrified you were going to leave her dancing alone in the dark again, without even the dream of you to keep her warm.

But there you were, your skin warm to the touch as her fingers sneaked up your shirt. Your skin against her palms, warm as you moved with every breath. You were there, the light she needed to see.

You clung onto her as tightly, using all your strength to keep her close. Everything about her was so warm, so full that you were sure you could never feel empty again. Your hands stroked the length of her back, providing whatever reassurance you could muster.

Natasha held you close, pulling her head away to look at you. Your face was gaunt, your eyes hollow, but full of so much love and longing, for her. Your hand slipped from her shoulders, resting above her collarbone as you wiped the tears off of her face.

Smiling to yourself, you swayed from side to side, dancing with her. Natasha pulled away slowly, looking at you in curiosity as you rested her forehead against hers. Her hands around your waist kept you up, moving slowly on the grass. The exhaustion would take over you soon, but she wanted to keep this moment a little longer.

Heaven couldn't hold a candle to this, to how whole you felt around each other. It was truly as if a piece of your heart resided with each other. It would tear you apart to be away from each other. But for now, maybe even forever, you could dance.

A/N: Tell me what you think!! Reblogs and comments are amazing!!

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , @hcartbyheart​​ , @summergeezburr​​ , @imnotasuperhero​  , @a-stressedstudent​ , @aaron-despair​ , @rooskaya-yelena​ , @dynnealberto , @thewitchandtheassassin , @wannabe-fic-reader​ , @izalesbean​, @higherfurther-romanova​  , @natalia-quinzel​  , @blackxwidowsxwife​   let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Locked Out

winter prompts day 10 ❄️ lost in a storm

 If Jaskier was a stupider man, he'd be confused about the sheer amount of times he and Geralt seem to be getting stuck places together. But he and Geralt had been the first to arrive and these things only started happening after both Eskel and Lambert had reached the keep. Jaskier can put two and two together and come to the conclusion that none of this is an accident.

Unfortunately for him, Jaskier also knows why it's happening. Witchers can smell all sorts of stupid, inconvenient shit, one of the more prominent (and most inconvenient) of those being the changes in human emotion. Meaning that if Jaskier wants to keep his feelings to himself, he has to try very hard to do so. And he discovered almost as soon as the other Witchers showed up that he is terrible at it. The only conclusion he can come to is that between the four of them, they've come to the (albeit correct) conclusion, that Jaskier is hopelessly in love with Geralt, and set themselves to the task of getting together.

What they don't know, is that Geralt barely tolerates Jaskier at the best of times and getting them together is a lost cause. He wants to confront them about it, but he rather likes the time he gets to spend alone with Geralt, whether they're cooking or cleaning or chopping wood. Geralt is different up at the keep than he is on the Path and Jaskier likes this friendlier, more open side of him. So, as long as no one is getting hurt (himself notwithstanding) he decides there's nothing wrong with their little game. They think they're solving a problem and Jaskier gets to spend some time with his friend in a place that's comfortable for him.

Then, one day, they're all gathered in the main hall. Vesemir has long grown tired of Geralt and Lambert's bickering and has retired to his room or the library or wherever it is he goes when he's had enough. Jaskier is once again left alone with the younger wolves and Aiden and he's enjoying the conversation, but he finds himself tuning out more and more often tonight, wondering what it was like to grow up in a place like this.

He knows it was very different then, that there were many more Witchers who called Kaer Morhen home, but he doesn't dare ask more than that. He's gleaned enough from the little bits and pieces from Geralt to know that his childhood was not a happy one and if he's happier here now, Jaskier doesn't want to stir up bad memories.

Jaskier doesn't realize he's staring at Geralt until Lambert nudges him. He shales his head and turns around to a very smug look.

"Aiden's gonna grab drinks," Lambert says, "why don't you and Geralt go get more firewood while we settle up in here." Jaskier nods obediently, casting a quick look in Geralt's direction to see if he suspects anything. Geralt just sighs as he rises to his feet. Jaskier follows suit and traipses after Geralt toward the large doors.

They've only been outside a couple of seconds when Jaskier hears the doors click shut behind them and the sound of the lock being slid across. He spins on his heel immediately and Geralt takes a few steps back, pressing on the door, to no avail.

"You can come back in when you figure your shit out!" Lambert calls through the door. Jaskier can hear them mumbling afterward, but it's too quiet to hear properly. Geralt sighs and rolls his eyes.

"Idiots," he mumbles and turns back to Jaskier. He seems surprisingly calm, but Jaskier feels immediately guilty. This is his fault. He shouldn't have let the game go on for so long and now they're stuck out in the cold until, well, until Lambert and his cohorts decide that they've figured their shit out - something Jaskier knows won't happen.

Fuck. He should have talked to Eskel when he had the chance. He knows Eskel would have listened, that he wouldn't want to force Geralt into something he's uncomfortable with. He might have even talked to Lambert and Aiden about it, gotten them to call it off as well, but Jaskier had been greedy. He had wanted too badly to spend time with Geralt that he hadn't considered things might get out of hand, and now they have.

All at once, he realizes the only way to solve this is to own up to his own feelings. Maybe it will make Geralt uncomfortable for a little while and maybe he won't want to travel with him any longer, but it's his fault for not saying something earlier. Now, it's the only thing he can do to fix this.

He turns to try to explain to Geralt, but when he does, Geralt is smirking back at him.

"Bastards," he mumbles, "what do you say we beat them at their own game?"

Jaskier, stunned, just looks at him.

"I-" if that's what Geralt wants, how could Jaskier turn him down considering this is his fault. "Alright, what do you have in mind?"

"Find somewhere to hide out until they come looking for us," Geralt smirks. Jaskier finds himself at a loss. Ever since coming to Kaer Morhen, he's been continuously surprised about how much fun Geralt really could be when he was comfortable enough to let go. He finds himself agreeing without even thinking through what a terrible idea this could actually be.

"Come on," Geralt says, "we'll head up to the old watchtower and watch them from there."

It's a great idea in theory. In practice, Jaskier will be oblivious to whatever Geralt is watching and he's already wondering why he agreed to this. They barely make it down the hill before it starts to snow and Jaskier sighs to himself. He doesn't quite understand why he's feeling so bad about all of this because Geralt seems to be having a perfectly fine time with it and regularly Jaskier would be thrilled to (team up) with him, but tonight, he's still feeling a little guilty about everything.

A part of him is even hoping Geralt will turn around when the snow starts, but he doesn't and it only starts to snow more heavily. Jaskier does his best to keep up but finds he's falling behind and eventually gives up when he loses sight of Geralt altogether.

"Geralt!" he shouts and for a moment there's no response. Great, he was stupid enough to keep playing along with this and now he's going to die for it, lost and frozen in the middle of fucking nowhere.

He drops to his knees in the snow and is almost immediately hauled back up to his feet. Geralt's arm wraps around his shoulders and suddenly Jaskier is being walked forward through the snow. He has no idea if they're going in the same direction or if they've turned around, but he trusts Geralt to keep him safe.

He doesn't know how long they walk before coming upon a partial structure, half-buried in the snow. Jaskier is pushed inside and Geralt follows shortly, brushing the snow off of himself and then Jaskier. Before he can stop to consider his options, Jaskier is being tugged down into Geralt's lap and bundled up in his arms. He squirms but Geralt holds him close.

"Just... let me warm you up. You're nearly frozen." Jaskier wants to point out that it's Geralt's fault he's nearly frozen, but he's feeling more miserable than bitter.

Reluctantly, he lets Geralt hold him and hopes that he's considered warmed up sooner rather than later. He relaxes into it after a moment, but he's hyperaware of every place they touch. Geralt's hands are warm and comforting, but when they slip under the hem of his shirt, Jaskier pulls away.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "I can't let you do this."

"Do... what?" Geralt asks. The expression on his face is a combination of hurt and confusion and Jaskier hates it, but he knows this is for the best.

"Treat me like this," he mumbles. "It's my fault we're in this place."

"Jaskier, I wasn't going to force you through the snow-"

"I don't mean here in this little shack, Geralt. I mean locked outside the keep in the first place." At this point, Geralt looks at him like he's speaking a whole other language and Jaskier sighs. His shoulders slump and he braces himself, but he supposes it was bound to come out at some point. It's been twenty years, after all.

"You know what they're doing, right?" Jaskier asks and Geralt shrugs.

"Being idiots."

"No." Jaskier pauses, but he can't bring himself to look up at Geralt. He's imagined telling Geralt how he feels time and time again, but he never expected it to be an apology. "Geralt they're trying to get us alone together on purpose. Because of my- because of the way I feel about you. Witchers can smell feelings or whatever, right? And I'm not as good at hiding it as I thought I was, so they've obviously figured it out. And I know they're just trying to help, but they don't realize that you don't-" he chokes on the words He's thought they dozens of times, but knowing Geralt doesn't feel the same and saying it out loud are two different things.

"Jask?" Geralt says softly and when Jaskier looks up, he's moved closer and he's smiling softly at him. "Is that why you think they're doing this?" Jaskier nods and Geralt sighs and shuts his eyes. "Jaskier, come here."

"Are you sure?"

"Jaskier."

"Okay, okay." He shuffles closer again, letting Geralt's arms wind around him. He tries not to press into him, but the hut is cold and Geralt is so warm and he smells wonderful, like leather and smoke and home and Jaskier is so worried about being so close that he doesn't realize Geralt is talking until he rests his chin on Jaskier's head.

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Uh. Yes?" Geralt sighs and does something that Jaskier can only assume is nosing at his hair.

"I didn't know about your... feelings. I thought they were just fucking with me." His arms close in a little tighter and Jaskier is too confused to fight against it. Geralt chuckles softly and Jaskier is fairly certain he's actually imagining things when he feels soft lips press against his head. "If I'd known you were amenable, I would have kissed you a long time ago and gotten them off our backs."

At that, Jaskier is certain something is wrong. Geralt doesn't just say things like that. He pulls out of his arms, turning to face him.

"Are you sick?" he asks and Geralt tips forward, swiftly closing the space between them and catching Jaskier's lips in a soft kiss.

Jaskier's mind goes entirely blank and he forgets what he's supposed to do with someone's mouth against his own. Then, Geralt's thumb comes up to brush against his cheek and when Geralt deepens the kiss, Jaskier moans softly and his reflexes take over, leaning into the kiss and wrapping his arms around Geralt's shoulders.

Without hesitation, Geralt winds his arms around his waist, hauling Jaskier up into his lap and leaning back against the wall. The kiss seems to last an eternity and no time at all and when Jaskier pulls away it's only because he's abruptly aware that he still needs to breathe.

"Oh," he breathes and Geralt smiles at him, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair back behind Jaskier's ear.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time."

"Me too. I suppose this means we'll have to thank the other?"

Geralt chuckles as he curls a hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and draws him close for another kiss. "Not a chance."

[windless-hurricane]

Sparks

Chapter Four: A World Where We Can Grow Old

A Reiner x Reader x (Eventual) Jean Fanfic

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

SUMMARY: After the fall of Shiganshina, you joined the military along with your brother. You had hoped to bring peace to the world by doing so, but the world was a cruel place. You seemed to lose more than you gained, but there was always someone - someone who made losing just a bit…easier. You hoped you could keep them forever, but was there a guarantee in this world?

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Here’s the fourth chapter! While things are a bit slow right now, the story’s really going to pick up after this chapter!

WARNINGS (for entire series): Language, explicit violence, talks of death, suicide, trauma, and mental illness, graphic scenes involving blood and/or death, and sexuality.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAGLIST: @lovethemilkteasis @grayxblaze @theyoungblood13 @flowersgirl02 @noodlenerd101 @hanabihwa @drowned-pathetic-rat @bestgirlb @bleepop @miinnttyy @1-800-thanos @lovelime @usernamehere91

SPARKS MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

• ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ •

You and your brother stood beside each other as a stream of smoke poured into the sky. You wondered where it came from, how it got there, why it was there, and your questions were answered once a colossal, red hand slung itself over the wall and grabbed onto it.

You flinched uneasily as your eyes widened in fear.

What’s happening? What’s going on? What is that? Is that… Is that a-

Then, a large, skinless face peeked over, its teeth clenching and its gaze terrifying.

It was. It was a Titan, but how...how could it be that big? It was impossible.

Your body trembled as you reached for Viktor's hand. He met you in the middle, gripping your hand back tightly. You could feel the heat and sweat from his skin, showing just how mortified he was.

“V-Vik-tor, I…” you stuttered, but you couldn’t form a coherent sentence. Your mind was going wild and you could feel your heart clenching in your chest.

What-what do we do? Where’s the Garrison Regiment? Where’s Jannick? Where’s dad?

Anybody?

Then, a sudden force shoved you to the ground as the Titan kicked through the wall, sending chunks of it flying.

People screamed, pushed past each other, and ran for whatever time was left of their lives. However, you couldn’t. You were frozen.

Everything was a blur and your ears filled with static.

What should I do?

However, you didn’t have time to ponder that question as a boulder headed straight for you.

This is it. I’m gonna die.

“(Y/N)! Move! (Y/N)!”

__________________________________________

“(Y/N)!”

You gasped yourself awake, sitting up in a panic.

You were panting heavily with sweat dripping down your forehead. You barely managed to wipe it away with your shaky hand. Matter of fact, your whole body was shaking.

“Are you okay,” Sasha asked, gazing at you with worried eyes. Admittedly, no. Your heart was still beating out of its chest and you felt your head begin to pound. However, you couldn’t dwell on something that has already happened. It’s over.

“I’m fine,” you responded, but the hoarseness of your voice didn’t match your words.

“Are you sure,” she pushed. “Because you don’t look like it.” She gestured to your hand and you were surprised to see that you had been clenching your blanket so tightly that the whites of your knuckles were showing. You hadn’t even realized that you were gripping it.

You let go, your knuckle cracking in the process.

“Yeah,” you nodded and you were about to relax until a new form of panic arose within you. “Wait, Sasha. Are we late?”

“Uh, well…” she trailed off. “We’re about to be.” Your eyes widened as you immediately threw yourself off the bed.

“You should’ve said that to begin with,” you exclaimed, shuffling around for your uniform. “We can’t be late for combat training!”

__________________________________________

You and Sasha made a run for the training grounds and were lucky to see that the rest of the cadets were still waiting for Shadis’s instruction.

You sighed a breath of relief as you lined up beside her, not noticing Reiner standing on the other side of you.

He unconsciously looked you over and noticed your disheveled appearance. You had a bad case of bed hair and a few buckles of your uniform had come undone. He also noticed the sheen of sweat covering your face and how you were breathing a little heavier than normal. Either you just woke up late or something else had happened. He wasn’t sure which.

As Shadis made his way up to the speaking platform, all side conversations came to a halt and he turned to face you all with a hard gaze.

“Alright, maggots,” he shouted, making your ears ring. “Today, we are engaging in combat training! While some of you may think this is unnecessary as you obviously can’t use hand-to-hand combat against a Titan...” You and a few cadets snickered. “Shut up!”

You smirked as he continued on. “As I was saying, if you’re lucky enough to make it into the Top 10 and join the Military Police, you won’t be dealing with Titans. You’ll be dealing with people, criminals, thugs. Likewise with the Garrison Regiment. Therefore, it is important to know basic fighting skills and how to defend yourself in any situation… Do your meager minds understand?!”

“Yes, sir,” you all replied in unison.

“Good, now listen for your partners!”

“Sir, if I may ask, why can’t we choose our own partners,” you asked suddenly, causing your peers to gape at you like they did at orientation. However, you were unfazed, even after Shadis shot you the same death glare as before.

“No, you may not ask, Bauer,” Shadis growled and you attempted to suppress your smile. “Now, run laps until I’ve finished. Afterwards, get your ass handed to you by Braun.”

“Yes, sir,” you saluted, shooting a glance at Reiner as he smirked at you. “If he can even beat me,” you countered, speaking so quietly that only Reiner could hear you.

As you jogged past him toward the dirt track, he watched you with amusement.

You certainly weren’t like the other girls in the Training Corps. You somehow managed to be sweet, fiery, and so sure of yourself all at once. You always spoke your mind and were seemingly fearless, choosing to mess with the scariest person there without a care in the world. Finally, you were awfully kind, taking care of your brother whenever you could and indulging in his own mischievousness, even if it meant the both of you potentially getting trouble. He even saw you do the same with Sasha and Eren.

You truly were something else.

He grinned faintly as he found you smirking back at him.

“We’ll see about that, hotshot,” he murmured.

__________________________________________

Once Shadis had finished announcing everyone’s partners, you jogged over to Reiner, panting slightly.

He raised his eyebrows at you as you came to a stop a few feet in front of him.

“How was the jog,” he teased and you scoffed in response.

“Nothing compared to the swimming I had to endure on the first day,” you admitted, clearing your throat.

“Why do you always annoy him when you know full well what he’s going to do?” The question would have sounded condescending coming from anyone else, but you could tell he was more amused than anything.

“I don’t like him,” you stated bluntly. “And…” your eyes began to soften. “I think we ought to have some fun while we’re here.”

“Huh,” he breathed, taken aback by your answer.

Fun? In times like these, he thought to himself.

“I know what you’re thinking,” you chuckled. “Fun? In times like these? I know. The world is so dark these days, but I think we need to be reminded that we’re still alive. We need to laugh, smile, feel happiness. Most importantly, be human and how could we do that if we’re scared or in grief all the time? I still don’t like him, but if you all are entertained along the way, fine by me.”

He gazed at you admirably, unsure of how to process your words. He felt...conflicted more than anything.

“You really are one of a kind, (Y/N),” he commented, his voice coming out smoother than how he felt on the inside.

Your cheeks blushed faintly as you grinned.

“If I didn’t know any better, Reiner, I’d say you were flirting with me rather than trying to fight me,” you cooed and he let out a chuckle through his nose.

“And what if I was,” he suggested with a glint in his eyes.

“I'd still say to fight me.”

You raised your arms in a fighting stance and he quirked his eyebrow at you.

“I haven’t seen a stance like that before,” he observed, putting his own arms up. “Where’d you learn it?”

“Enough talking!”

You charged at Reiner with a plan already in mind.

I’ll go for a punch towards his face. Once he decides to either block it or pull away from it, I’ll sweep his legs right from underneath him.

You went for your punch, but he unexpectedly didn’t do either. He instead grabbed your fist tightly, not allowing you to pull away, and twisted your arm behind your back. He pulled you against him and your face heated up as his chest pressed into you.

“I don’t think you expected that, (Y/N),” he whispered, his breath fanning your cheek. “I thought I wasn’t going to be able to beat you.” You honestly thought so too, but you were overconfident. It made sense that he was able to stop you. He was confident too, but just the right amount. He also knew how to fight.

Although your arm was starting to hurt from his grip, you still smirked with excitement.

“The fight doesn’t end until one of us is pinned down,” you stated, stomping down on his foot.

He groaned as he released his hold on you and you threw your head back, coming into contact with his chin. As a result, he lost his footing and you took the opportunity to crouch down and swipe your leg underneath his. He fell to the ground and you threw yourself on top of him. You bent your right leg at the knee and dug it into his thigh, holding his other leg down in the process. You used your left foot to keep one of his arms down. Then, you pinned his wrist with one of your hands and used the other to keep his head against the ground. You smiled, letting out a quick exhale.

“I pinned you.”

“Let’s make a deal,” and you gaped down at him in surprise. Why did he look and sound so nonchalant despite his position?

“What?”

“Whoever’s pinned down last has to do something for the other,” he explained.

“If you can even-“ Before you could finish, he propped his knee up from under you and your foot slid off his wrist. He gripped you from your collar and threw you over, causing you to land on the opposite side of his head. You went to do a kip up, but he grabbed you by the shoulder of your jacket and dragged you until you were within straddling range. He got on top of you as he smiled faintly.

“That’s what we have to find out.”

After that, you both spent the next half hour pinning each other down until Shadis told everyone to stop.

You gasped for air as you pinned Reiner’s wrists above his head and used your knees to keep his legs in place. He was breathing heavily as well, his stomach on the ground and his cheek pushing against the dirt.

“I-I win,” you announced, tightening your hold on him as a reminder.

“I can see that,” he strained, barely looking at you from the corner of his eye. “You win.”

You sighed in satisfaction and let him go, finally standing up. You wiped excess sweat and dirt off your forehead, watching as he turned over and sat up with a grunt.

“You’re an impressive fighter, (Y/N),” he complimented. “I think you’re as good as Annie.”

“Well, you’re not too bad yourself,” you admitted. “I haven’t had a fight like that in awhile.”

“So, then,” he started. “What do you want?”

“Huh?” You blushed slightly as you scratched the back of your head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead… What did you even want?”

“I wanted you to answer a question of mine,” he revealed, a darkness creeping on his cheeks.

“Just a question,” you asked in disbelief. “All of that for a question? What is it?”

“Why'd you join the military?”

“That question again? Well, I guess I never answered you to begin with,” you remembered. “Silly, you could’ve just asked me instead of letting me beat you up.”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up again without it seeming weird,” he confessed and you shook your head.

“It wouldn’t have. I like talking to you.”

You extended your hand out to him and the moment his fingers brushed yours, you felt what could only be described as a jolt of electricity running through you and you took a step back.

You looked down at him and he stared back at you with a similar expression - utter confusion.

Did he feel that too?

“Um, sorry,” you apologized, laughing slightly. “It must’ve been static.”

“No worries,” he assured with a chuckle and you stuck your hand out once again.

He took it graciously and thanked you as you hoisted him up. You nodded, gazing at him right after.

“I joined the military because I want to live in a world where the only concern is growing old,” you finally answered. “I don’t want us to worry about walls, Titans, or whatever the hell else could be out there. I just want us to be happy and have the freedom to live our lives to the fullest... Does that...sorta answer your question?”

It did, it really did. So, why did Reiner still feel a pang in his chest? Why was he hoping for a more selfish answer? Why did he want your answer to not be as noble as the one you gave? Why did he want you to be...less human?

In the end, he knew the answers to all these questions. He didn’t want to feel guilty for what he had done and what he was going to do...but everyone was making it extremely difficult. (Y/N) especially.

As you both smiled at each other, one question plagued his mind.

Why were the Devils of Paradis…so human?

[kokororyuu]

miles apart [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: “you’re going to die,” “i know,” “you’re dying,” “i know, levi, i’m sorry,”

warnings ⚠️: major character death(s), SPOILERS up to season three, slight suggestive themes (its brief!!), brief description of gore

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: no, because,,, this was my first levi fanfic, and i’m immensely proud of it ‼️ if we ignore the “suggestive” part 😩😩 anyway, have fun reading, lovebugs <33

PART TWO: once more

whatever just happened, had happened too fast, and now both you and levi were laying side by side, miles apart from everyone else and the chaos that caused this whole mess in the first place.

you’re both injured bad from the war, and the stench of blood, both humans and titans alike, lays thick in the air. you find yourself nearly suffocating in it as you cough up what seems to be more blood, it’s metallic taste coating your lips and tongue in red.

you can barely feel your arms and legs, and you’re pretty sure they’re either broken or torn off from the fight. you pull your heavy lids open and stare blearily at the night sky, how many hours had passed since you two had been laying here like this?

you turn your head slowly, hearing the multiple cracks your joints made in the effort as your eyes trailed to levi’s face. he’s still in the same position, facing the sky with empty, soulless eyes. you reckon he was pondering something, how long were we gonna stay here? when will someone arrive to help us?

“levi?” you croak out, and he lets out a little rumble of acknowledgement. “are you okay?” what a stupid question... with how levi is, he definitely isn’t, but he was sure to make it seem like he was. he nods to the best of his ability, though he isn’t faring much better than you. gashes that gush with blood cut across his body in what seems to be parallel and equal in length, claws, of some sort, you assume. “good,” you whisper so softly that he almost doesn’t catch the murmured word.

your life seems to be flashing before your eyes quite slowly for the amount of time you’ve spent here bleeding out beside the man.

you recall the first time you caught him off guard.

it was a complete accident. as a member of levi’s squadron, you worked under him as a subordinate and did as he said, after all, he had chosen you to be on his team, and you put as much trust in him as he did in you.

you were bringing him some tea after you had dropped off a huge stack of paperwork in his office. you knew he needed it, after all, it had only been a few days after your most recent expedition and paperwork was a bore if you ever knew one.

a simple teapot and cup of black tea rested on the tray in your hands as you made your way from the kitchen to his office, acknowledging a few cadets that would respectfully greet you before going on their way. when you had finally made it to his door, you knocked gently before waiting for his usual question of your name and reason for entering.

a few seconds, maybe minutes passed, and you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, but you hadn’t want the tea to go to waste, so you hesitantly pushed the door open with your foot, entering the sparkling clean room with tray in hand.

“captain levi?” you nearly bit your tongue (oluo would have laughed in your face if you did before biting down on his own) and froze with your head peeking inside the room at the sight of the man leaning his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his usual frown wiped off his face.

it had you in a wonder, surprised that even humanity’s strongest (and grouchiest) soldier could have a face as calm as the one on his as he slept. you stepped as quietly as you could toward his desk, setting the tea down with care before you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

your eyes traveled up the scarred and rough hand, up the toned arm, and looked straight into narrowed grey eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“got you tea, captain,” your nerves were calm now, and you spoke with a grin, “thought you would need it with all the paperwork commander tosses at you,”

levi’s hand lingered on your wrist a little longer before he pulled away and carried the steaming cup to his lips in his strange cup hold that you’ve tried to mimic yet still can’t get right. he drank a little, his face ever so stoic. “tastes like shit, brat,” he said, though he made no move to drop the cup back into the tray and continued to sip away at the red orange liquid.

“thought you’d say that,” you turned to leave after saluting him, your hand wrapping around the doorknob before a mischievous impulse lit in you once more, “you know, captain,” he didn’t even glance up from the papers on his desk. “you look cute when you’re sleeping,” his gaze snapped up at that, and he was about to chew you out for making the comment, but to his dismay, you were already gone, having gotten the amusing response from him that you wanted.

there were many times after that where you’d make a little comment here and there, only to get an icy glare and a click of the tongue from levi, which wasn’t a problem to you at all, if anything, you found it the best part. the way he’d scowl at you and turn away, only to let you get away with it the very next day. it was like a little game the two of you would play, and you were winning if eye rolls, embarrassed blushes hidden behind callused hands, and, “tch,”’s counted as prizes.

you would’ve never thought he’d bite back, especially this far into the game.

“captain levi~!” you drew out his name with a little hop in your step. he didn’t stop walking, if anything, his pace sped up as he tried to leave you in the hallway. “captain!” you groaned childishly and ran after him. he turned the corner and into his office, leaving the door ajar. you grinned, it seemed he knew well enough you wouldn’t stop for a closed door. you opened it as soon as your hand touched the cool wood, and sang out, “levi~” you saw him standing by his desk and looking down at the papers that littered it. “i’ve got another joke for you—”

“—if you keep this up, i might actually get angry,” you halted in your tracks and clamped your mouth shut, angry? oh no, you weren’t trying to make him angry, only annoy him if anything. you knew, everyone knew to not get on levi’s bad side, and after seeing the man kick the titan shifter boy from the 104th cadets merciless, it’d be terribly stupid of you to try and anger him.

he dragged his fingertips across the tabletop and looked up through hooded eyes, “might even punish you,” you were stuck in a stupor at his words and how they obviously had implications for something else.

“but i guess you’d like that, hm? i wouldn’t want give you that satisfaction,” he seemed pleased with the way your cheeks flamed up and your jaw stayed dropped in shock. after he grabbed whatever he needed from his desk, he walked by you with a sly quirk of his lips, dragging a hand up to close your agape mouth. “close the door after you leave,” he called out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

-

from there on, your relationship had changed drastically. this game now had two players, and that new addition was the original target of the game himself. the teasing and playful jokes continued on for days, weeks, and you were having so much fun that you barely realized how much some people were noticing, including a certain bespectacled one.

“hey, hange!” you plopped next to them as you watched them fiddle with a little gadget. “what’s this?” you eyed curiously as hange laughed.

“my new creation! i’m trying to make something erwin asked for to help with his arm. you nodded, understanding immediately. the commander had lost his arm when the scouts went to save eren from a kidnapping. there was a few moments of silence before hange asked, “so… you and levi?”

you opened your mouth to retort but they beat you to it, “don’t deny it! even eren can tell, and he’s as dense as a rock!” you cowered from their accusing finger before huffing out a sigh.

“you know it doesn’t work like that, hange,” the mood dampened with your honest but hurtful words. you were right, it didn’t. with a world of titans and destruction, war like this, there would never be a second of peace, of life, of freedom. you could be alive and happy one day and then die and suddenly gone forever the next. and with levi being an ackerman, he was bound to survive longer than you, you just didn’t want to cause him more unnecessary pain.

hange hummed under their breath, “you’re right, but if it were me, i’d rather die knowing i had the chance and took it, than die letting it slip between my fingers,” they continued to tinker with the gadget as you pondered quietly on their words. they were right, but so were you, and now it was just up to the risk both sides were willing to take. what would happen if you ever confessed these buried feelings of yours to your terribly stoic captain?

-

in the end, you never said anything, at all. the two of you stayed at this sort of flirting and joking around type state. it was comfortable, you concluded, though you had to be honest, there were a few close calls where you felt you blushed too much, said too much, or gasped a little too loud when his touch lingered on you for too long.

you hadn’t said a word about your feelings for the man, and neither did he.

-

levi didn’t know when his heart had decided to let you in.

it was probably after erwin had passed away on a roof of a building with a gaping hole in his side that colored his cape and the white bandages around his abdomen red.

he brought his body back for a proper burial, but even then, levi couldn’t cry, nor let a single tear slip down his cheek. for a few weeks, even if he seemed put together, there was a heavy feeling that resided in his chest. no matter if he tried to sleep it away or drown himself in paperwork, it never left him.

it had been a rough night. there were complications with the imports from a faraway town in sina, and while hange was busy with things as the newly appointed commander, levi had to deal with the papers that came with the conflict.

he didn’t know how long he had been sitting before the fireplace in the mess hall, scratching away at the parchment under the warmth of the flickering fire that casted a warm orange hue around the room.

he clicked his tongue as another wave of aches hit his head before rubbing at his temples. erwin would’ve been better at handling this shit… his brow furrowed at his thoughts, you know better than that, there’s no bringing him back, you made the choice, levi.

levi didn’t regret his choice, but he had guessed the heavy presence of death had just stuck with him a little tighter this time around. it was fine, it would pass, at least, that was what he told himself.

during his turmoil, you had entered the mess hall as quietly as you could, “captain levi?” he looked up from the papers and pulled his hand away from his face with a quirked brow. “i brought you tea,” you spoke softly as to not agitate him any further. “i hope it tastes better than last time, i practiced,” you sent him a lopsided smile that you hoped would ease his frown, but instead, it brought the opposite.

the lines on his face became deeper as he scowled, “i don’t have time right now,” and the grumble of your name right after sounded harsh on both yours and even his ears. it was now your turn to pout. you definitely weren’t trying to mess around with him right now, not with all the stress and the recent death of one of his closest friends.

you sat there across from him at the table in silence for a few moments as he penned the paper. what could make him feel better? you thought quietly to yourself, your eyes raking over levi in search of something, any indicator to help him. a sudden idea popped in your head as you stood, making your way to stand behind him as you watched his eyes never leave the documents. “what are you doing?”

you reached over and plucked the pen from his hand, placing it down on the table and ignoring his glare, “just relax, levi, i’m gonna try and sort out these tense ass muscles of yours,” as soon as the words popped out of your mouth, your hands began to press into his shoulders, eliciting a little sound of surprise from levi. he almost immediately tensed back up at the foreign feeling but relaxed to the best of his abilities after a few pointed words from you.

“i’m not just here to get you tea, you know?” you worked out a knot in his neck, watching as his head lolled to the side to give you more room to work. “i had the same training as you, and i know how to handle paperwork, you could always ask if you need the help,” he hummed at your offer, and you only chuckled before getting back to his tense muscles.

levi let himself relax, more so than he probably ever had. your hands made their way up the base of his neck, and he let out a little sigh. he didn’t think this would feel this good, and he was considering what he could do to pay you back before realizing. what was the need to? you were doing the work of a subordinate for a superior, there was no need for him to treat you to anything.

but there was something that made levi realize that it wasn’t true, no matter how much every fiber in his body wanted to reject the idea. you were different, in your own weird way, and he couldn’t place his finger on it yet, but he decided he’d find out along the way.

“alright, you can work with me starting tomorrow, meet me here after dinner. if you’re late, i’m not letting you help again,” you smiled victoriously and pat his shoulders to signify you were done massaging them.

“alright then! see you tomorrow, captain,” you saluted him and shuffled out of the mess hall to leave him to his work.

the man held back a chuckle, sipping on the now lukewarm tea by his side. he had to admit, you were getting better at brewing his favorite drink.

levi’s heart felt a little lighter that night.

-

the two of you were almost impossibly closer after that. early mornings were spent with hange at important meetings and gatherings, most of the days were spent listening to hange rant about titans and ridiculous (but hilarious) and sometimes even useful plans, and late nights would be spent on paperwork and idle chatter by the warm fireplace in the mess hall.

the two of you would talk about nothing and everything, sometimes levi letting you talk his ear off as he added comments here and there or choosing to bask in each other’s silence as the flames beside you two crackled.

there were nights you fell asleep at the table, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one levi refused to share with you the night before around your shoulders that smelled of fresh laundry and lemons.

-

levi remembered all these little moments, including the time he had to yank a paper from under your arm to save it from your impending drool, or the multiple times he draped his cotton blanket over you and pulled it around your shoulders, his hands hesitating to pick off the dust that had resided on your cheek before gently brushing it off you and holding his breath when you’d twitch or move from his touch.

he still couldn’t really understand how it happened really, but spending time with you made him realize how much he liked the way you smiled at him no matter how annoyed he was with you, and the way you talked to him like he wasn’t humanity’s strongest soldier.

he felt normal, and strangely free.

and for some reason, he felt that if you ever disappeared from his sight, he’d lose this light feeling in his chest that outshined the bitter emotions he was always burdened with.

he didn’t want to lose you.

levi huffs, trying to control his unsteady breathing. there’s a feeling of discomfort that settles in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s from just the cuts and bruises he obtained from the crash. you’re treating him like he’s fragile, like glass, and he hates it, sure, he’s broken, even he knows that, but he hates it.

humanity’s strongest soldier… he scoffs internally at himself, well, he feels pretty pathetic at the moment. he then outwardly scowls, gripping onto the pants of his torn uniform.

“you’re going to die,” he doesn’t mean for his words to sound so sharp, and he’s sure that his tone hurts you more than the gashes that litter your torso.

“i know,” he’s right, it hurts, and they seem to cut deeper than your wounds, as if someone struck your heart with a knife and twisted the blade.

his voice nearly breaks when he says this, but he stays... strong, “you’re dying,”

“i know, levi. i’m sorry,”

you know this man has been through so much, too much. he lost too many, has seen too much, he’s been through so many tragedies, and you still haven’t seen him cry, not once, and not now as you lay beside him, shivering and keeping your eyes open enough to watch him glare up at the night sky.

one last attempt, you think to yourself. you need to get his attention before it’s too late, before you fade away and disappear, but you can already feel your conscious slipping through your fingertips and your eyes drooping.

“levi…” your voice sounds pained when he stays turnt away from you and looks up at the moon, “i’m proud of you,” levi’s heart squeezes and so does his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear your soft voice right now, nor look at your mangled body, or hear the shouts of soldiers swinging around on their odm gear or the battle cries as they slice into titans’ napes.

you bite back a cry at his act of ignorance to your pleas for him to just look at you, and fall silent as your energy drains along with the blood that comes from you and him and soak into the earth. you meant those words, you mean what you said, and you beg him with your eyes focused on his high cheekbones to just spare you a glance while his stay glued to the twinkling stars.

it becomes so quiet, that levi begins to think you’ve already kicked the bucket with how he can barely hear your breathing.

he’s already preparing himself to do what he usually does, steel himself against the terrible emotions of survivor’s guilt and sorrow. every time he feels the twinge of depression and desperation creep up and wrap itself around his heart, he escapes to his mind, the logical part of him. the part that keeps him miles apart from everything, distance, safety.

he does it so much that you know, and you can tell he’s doing it right now with how tense his brow is and how the nails of the hand which lays between you digs into his palm. he’s closing himself off again, even after all these years you’ve spent together as comrades, partners in crimes, and what you hope was as friends.

you try to distract yourself some more, with anything really, the way his hair, though covered in blood seems to flow seamlessly to the sides of his head, revealing his undercut, and his eyes that stare silently into the endless blue sky, or the familiar smell of citrus and fresh laundry that you get from him even with the layers of smoke that are wafting from the ongoing battle burning your lungs or the smell of blood still seeping out from the both of you.

you want to hold onto the lingering hope that he’ll turn to you and at least say one last goodbye, or say those unspoken feelings he’s always hidden behind cool grey eyes, but he doesn’t say a word.

time is running out, and you need to say this, say this before you leave him like everyone else. levi’s fingers twitch when he hears you take in a sudden breath, your voice coming out quiet, weak, frail.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” levi’s eyes open, and his head snaps toward you, and he regrets it, so bad. he manages to catch the exact moment the light, the life, fades from your very eyes he always thought were so gorgeous.

he’s lost his light.

you’re gone.

levi feels this terrible grip on his heart that makes him lose his breath and his head pound worse than it already is, and he chokes on the blood that gushes from his lips. his hand reaches out to you weakly, his arms, losing their strength, and he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open.

he almost can’t bring himself to do it, but he leans forward to press a shaky and hesitant kiss on the top of your head that he hopes conveys all the unsaid confessions he could’ve showered you with before your passing. his lips are warm, while your body turns pale and blue, and he finds it ironic how someone as kind and bright as you now seems dull in comparison to him.

as unshed tears pool at the corners of his eyes, your lifeless ones bore into his for the last time before he pushes them close with a touch of his hands over your eyes.

his heart, it hurts so bad, more than it ever has, and no matter how much he tries to push down the lump in his throat or the burning of his eyes and heart, it persists. he slowly falls back into his previous position, your corpse beside him losing its warmth and his steel grey eyes facing the moon once more.

the fuzzy lines around the full moon start to blur as he blinks a few times, the hues of white mixing with the blue of the sky, “it is…”

and finally, he lets himself cry.

explanations

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

this is a more poetic way to say “i love you” in japanese :D

“it is...”

this is essentially “i love you too” in reply to “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

[1980s-robin]

Pinkie Promise

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Reader and Steve are inseparable, even through dangerous times. But despite nearly dying, there’s just three unspoken little words that burden their minds. 

Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Stab wounds, mentions of blood, cussing, basically just canon-typical stuff, pretty sure I clarified the reader as a girl at least once 

Notes: So, I’ve been rewatching Stranger Things because… ya know… October. And I’m in my Steve feelings and decided ‘hey! let’s write a giant fanfic about him’ so here it is. And kids? It’s a big one. Enjoy! I’ve been working on it for weeks.

It was meant to be a calm summer, perhaps your last ever calm summer - the plan after graduation having been to spend a year working to pay for your college tuition, or at least as much of it as you possibly could. It was a good plan, but of course, you didn’t factor in a Russian conspiracy theory underneath the mall.

You waved a goodbye to your supervisor at The Gap, watching her finish locking up from behind you as you pretended you were walking to the exit of the mall like you had done every other day. “If you need to get back in, you have your key right?” She questioned, you nodding as you pulled it out of your ‘hiding place’ - which happened to just be your bra. 

Once you had seen her take her leave, you quickly turned back around and knocked four times on the locked entrance of the Scoops Ahoy, being greeted by the face of your new friend Robin.

“Hey! Is everyone gone?” She questioned, peeking her head out as she opened up the store enough to let you in but not make too much noise - just in case there was still someone out there. 

“I think so, my store is usually the last to finish closing.” You responded as you looked around the inside of the store and followed Robin back into the break room, pulling a chair over to the table. Typically, when you came here during your lunch break, you would take a seat across from Steve but the inclusion of Dustin put you directly in the middle of the table.

“Well, Y/N, you joined a little late.” You heard from beside you, turning your head to watch Dustin sitting dramatically, his finger pointing accusingly at you.

“The hell is he on about?” You questioned as you glanced over at Steve, who turned to look at you and coughed awkwardly. 

“Robin already figured out what the code said but uh…. I don’t really believe it’s right.” He said with an almost disappointed look on his face as Robin and Dustin moved to the exit so everyone could leave. The code was figured out as far as they were concerned.

You glanced at the board and read what it said, your eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as you read the word but you shrugged and turned to face Steve. “If it is some sort of Russian code, I don’t see why they would say whatever it is they wanted directly.” You said as you moved over to the counter  climbing on top of it with the help of Steve.

As you slid onto the floor, your feet meeting the ground as gently as possible as to not hurt yourself, you watched Dustin nod in agreement with your statement. “She’s right, a top-secret Russian code wouldn’t be that obvious - it’s obviously coded.” He said.

“And I know my translation was right.” Robin added on, your head turning back to look at Steve for just a moment before you turned ahead again. 

As you listened absentmindedly to their conversation you sighed, almost relieved that you most likely didn’t have to deal with this anymore. “Well, whatever it is thankfully it’s far away from here.” 

Almost like a curse, the minute you turned back around Steve was kneeling in front of the mini-carousel ride and demanding a quarter. You had no idea why, you were just assuming he wanted to get on it or something - odd since he wasn’t five but… you weren’t one to judge him. 

As he finally got his quarter you watched with confusion written all over your face before you heard it, the song that you’d been hearing for the past few weeks but… then you realized why he was playing it. It seemed Dustin had the same thought as he pulled the recorder out, playing it for you all to hear the same song playing in both places.

You felt chills run down your spine, but as Robin reasoned that maybe they had the same type of horse in Russia you agreed - maybe because you wanted to believe it. 

But, Steve pointed out the name of the horse. Indiana Flyer. Why would they have an Indiana Flyer in Russia? The recording must’ve been coming from within the mall, and the thought of that horrified you. 

As you all walked out of the mall, you wanted to get away as quickly as possible, you followed Steve to his car since you lived close together - he typically drove you home. 

“Y/N?” You heard from beside you once you’d gotten in the passenger seat, everything seeming to go by in a blur since you hadn’t even noticed that he’d left the parking lot. “Are you okay?” Steve asked, watching as you finally turned to look at him.

“You want to go after the Russians, don’t you?” You asked, your head seemingly spinning from all the information that was being presented to you in that moment - it was a lot for you to process. 

“Well yeah, we can’t tell the police about it, they’ll think we’re pulling some kind of prank.” replied, as though it was common sense that he wanted to go after them - whoever they were.

“But Hopper he- he knows about all of the weird stuff going on, I’m sure he’d be understanding.” You reasoned, still not wanted to go through with this.

“Y/N… do YOU want to go after the Russians?” Steve finally asked, turning into the area of town with more houses, leaving behind the gas station that you both usually stopped at for drinks after a long day of work. 

“No I- It’s dangerous.” You said, but that excuse with nothing and you knew it.

“We’ve fought monsters before, I’m sure humans are a step down from that-” 

“Steve I- last time you almost died and I can’t-” You internally cringed at the memory of seeing him bloody and bruised, remembering him going out with nothing but a baseball bat and the terror on your face as you did everything you could to help. “I don’t want you to die.” you commented, glancing back down at your lap.

“That won’t happen again and… is me living really more important than like- maybe everyone in our town?” Steve questioned you as he glanced at you for a moment, mostly keeping his eyes on the road, though.

“They’re not you.” You mumbled, looking out of the window of the car, almost embarrassed at the clinginess you felt toward your best friend. All those years of watching Steve grow and change, feeling more than friendly things toward him and nearly crying every time he told you about a new girl and you’re just just attached at the hip as you always had been.

There wasn’t much time to think about this, though, as you felt Steve slide his hand into your own comfortingly, his other hand firmly on the steering wheel. “You can stay back if you want to, you know, I’d rather you not be in danger an-”

“No!” You rushed out, eyes wide as your head snapped to look at Steve. “If you’re going I’m going, you’re not getting yourself killed and leaving me behind.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, “So you’re implying we should die together?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation somewhat light-hearted as he pulled into the parking lot of his own home - about three down from yours. 

“I’m not implying anything, I’m saying that if this goes wrong and something happens I’m gonna be there.” You finally said, unbuckling your seatbelt before motioning ahead. “You want a sleepover or something? I’d love to braid your hair, Stevie.” You teased as you got out of the car, but even teasing felt wrong. You were absolutely terrified. 

“I want to walk you back, but since you’re so worried for me maybe you don’t want me walking back alone.” He retorted playfully, meeting you on the other side of the car.

You smacked his arm, “This is serious.” You said, walking toward your house with the boy practically at your heels. 

“I know, Y/N I know I just-” He stopped, not knowing exactly what it was that he wanted to say. “I’m scared too, you know, I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.” He said as you finally reluctantly turned back to look at him. “But we have to do this, someone has to, you know people are just going to think we’re being crazy because of Vietnam or something.” 

With a sigh, you nodded. “I know that, I just hate seeing you hurt. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my best friend… I need you.” You said, feeling Steve link his arm with yours as you walked closer to your house, almost wishing you didn’t have to go in without Steve - just incase you never got to see him again.

You had noticed something stall in him at your words, maybe it was saying that you needed him - not that it was the only thing you wanted to say. But whatever it was that had given him pause wore off rather quickly as he composed himself. “I need you too, and I’m… I’m sorry to put you in this situation… again.” He said as you finally reached your door and turned to look at him - your worried expression instantly softening at his apologetic features.

“You shouldn’t have to apologize for wanting to help people Steve, I’m just being paranoid.” You brushed it off, moving your hand to fix a strand of his hair that was sticking up. 

Steve sighed and shook his head, “I understand that,”  He said, catching your wrist to keep some sort of contact - something that caused your stomach to flutter slightly. “But we will make it out of this, and everyone else will too. I promise.” He said, sticking out his pinkie for a pinkie promise - one of dozens you’d made with him.

You tried to fight back the smile on your face as you twisted your pinkie with his, “I trust you.” You finally responded, letting yourself smile. 

“Good, good, because you also just agreed to a sleepover when this is all over - I wanna see what you can do with my hair.” He teased, causing you to laugh. 

“Ok, ok, but if you hate it don’t cry.” You said with a smile. “Goodnight, Steve.” You finally said, rather softly, as you opened the door to your home. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” He responded, walking down the sidewalk back to his house. There was a part of you that wanted to follow after him, ask him to stay with you or kiss him or something - it was almost always in the back of your head when he said goodnight. But you knew you couldn’t do that, so you just shut your front door and ran to the living room. Contrary to mocking annoyment at the idea of you not trusting him to walk down the sidewalk, you’d feel bad if you didn’t watch to make sure someone didn’t get him. 

Once you knew he had made it back home, you sighed and walked  to your bedroom, changing into what you typically slept in and slipped into bed. On a normal day, you might take a shower and watch a movie or something. But tonight you just wanted to go to bed, everything you had learned about the mall that day had just been too much.

The sound of your alarm clock startled you awake as you got out of bed, changing what you usually wore to work and turning to go outside. You were met, as you usually were, by the sight of Steve sitting in his car waiting for you to finish getting ready. 

“So, what are we doing today?” You asked him, sliding into the passenger seat and wrapping the seatbelt around you as you clicked it in place.

“I’m not sure, I’ll let you know if something happens but… I’ll just let you know.” Steve seemed to trail off, doing a U-Turn to turn back the way he had driven the previous night. For a moment it almost seemed like he didn’t want you involved, similar to how you didn’t particularly want him involved, but there you both were - directly in the middle of the Russian conspiracy theory. 

As you arrived at the mall, you left your bag in the car - again, as you usually did. Normally, you would be talking to Steve on the way in, but both of you seemed rather tense.

“It feels wrong going in here… I feel like we’re gonna be like-” You cut off, glancing around to make sure there was nobody that looked suspicious. “It feels like we might be… killed or something.” You finally said as you glanced over at Steve, walking into the mall with him, but a part of you wanted to turn around and never come back.

“It’ll be okay, they could have killed us last night probably if they thought we were on to them. I’m sure this is going to be fine.” He said, but he didn’t seem too assured. 

You nodded, though, because he really was right. The mall had your addresses from the checks being mailed home, if the Russians suspected that you knew something they could have had you killed already - and it made no sense to do something like that in a giant mall, especially when you lived so close together. 

“I’ll see you during our lunch break?” You questioned as you had reached Scoops Ahoy, Steve nodding in response. 

“Or earlier, if we find something and I have time to get you.” he responded, your heart almost dropping. 

“If you find something you need to get me, okay, or at least try- I don’t want you to get hurt I-” You were getting frantic again, keeping your voice down to not draw-awareness. 

“I will, but if something happens and you don’t see me during lunch promise you’ll come looking.” He said, watching as you nodded in response. You had to be realistic, something might happen and you might not be able to go together. “And you can’t pretend to be sick.” He said, as if reading a thought that may have crossed your mind.

“Alright.” You agreed reluctantly, waving a hello to Robin who you saw behind the counter and turning around, but for a moment something clicked in your brain. You might not see either of them for a while, if worse comes to worse. “Please stay safe, both of you.” You finally said as you turned back around, both of your close friends nodding before you walked to your job at The Gap.

The rest of the day you had basically spent most of the day folding clothes and answering customers questions, but your mind couldn’t help but wander. You were completely distant from everything that was going on, you couldn’t focus on anything. More than once you’d wanted to tell a customer to leave the mall, to never come back, because you felt like everyone was in danger at that moment. But you couldn’t. 

A while later, your lunch break started - as you walked over to Scoops Ahoy you noticed that neither Steve nor Robin were there, and you started to fear for the worst. 

It was a frantic scramble for the next few moments before you ran into someone, someone who grabbed your arms and pulled you in front of them.

“Hey-” 

“Steve? I th-”

“I know, I can explain, just come with me.” He said as he started guiding you over to a table. When you sat down, you noticed the people you were used to, at this point. Robin and Dustin, but you also noticed the inclusion of another new face. She looked familiar for a moment, before you placed that it was Erica Sinclair. 

“Why is-” You motioned to Erica, “Is she going to help us? What’s-” You were practically choking on your words, completely confused by what was going on as you felt Steve slide into the seat beside you. 

“We need someone to go through the vents to open the loading dock for us to get in, Dustin couldn’t fit and he thought he knew someone who could.” Robin explained, “And, she agreed in exchange for ice cream.” She added on.

You nodded along to what she said, wondering if it was a good idea to have her tagging along but knowing that if there was no other option there was no reason why the rest of you couldn’t just watch after her. 

The rest of the day was finished somewhat normally, with the looming knowledge that you would be getting into Russian equipment as soon as the mall closed. 

Ironically, you finished work early for the first time in a while. Your co-workers had been a little too diligent in making sure everything was stocked for the next day, granted, your supervisors had told you to be extra diligent for the next few days since it was the week of the holiday. While it meant that everything was going to be done sooner than it would have been otherwise, it also meant that you needed to break into Russian information sooner.

You quietly walked to where Scoops Ahoy was, you shouldn’t have been as paranoid as you were about going to see your friend who drove you home anyway - but with the given circumstances you felt like everything that you were doing was completely out of the ordinary. 

“You’re here early.” Robin commented from behind the counter as she jumped on top of the stand, sliding across it. 

“We finished early, I don’t think anyone else is still here though.” You said as you glanced around the empty mall. “Even if they are, I don’t think anyone’s going to notice us climbing on the roof.” 

It was only a few minutes later before Dustin, Robin, Steve and yourself departed for the rooftop outside of the loading deck - Erica moving for the vents that would allow you all to enter from that part of the building. 

As you laid on the rooftop, making sure to be as close to the roof as possible as to not draw any attention if there were to be someone who could be paying attention to any of you, you couldn’t help but feel like you shouldn’t be doing what you were doing.

There was just this feeling in your brain, this feeling that maybe this was wrong and that none of you should be involved. But, before you could allow your mind to wander too far with that idea the dock was open, and you were all climbing down the latter and walking quickly and quietly into the building before shutting the door behind you. 

It was eerie being inside of this part of the mall, surrounded by these boxes that you’d seen being walked through the mall and thought nothing of. Seeing them knowing that they were something else, something that could pose a threat to yourself and everyone else that you happened to know. 

You kneeled next to the boxes, watching as Steve opened one of them with a box cutter. You nearly jumped as you told Dustin to get back, but you did not expect him to tell you to get back. 

“If you die I die.” Dustin responded to Steve’s criticism, his firm tone seeming to surprise everyone - including you. 

“I agree with Dustin, if you die I die too.” You commented, high fiving Dustin above Steve’s head.

Steve seemed to blink for a moment, “Okay then.” He finally said, glancing between the both of you before twisting one of the tubes inside of the box and pulling it out.

You all stared in awe of the green, shining liquid-type thing inside of the jar that Steve was holding, having no clue what it could possibly be that he was holding.

Before you had the chance to tell him to put it down you all felt the room begin to move, only for a moment, before everyone started rushing to get the door opened. But the door didn’t seem to want to open. 

You let out a yell as you saw the walls begin to close in, and felt the room start shooting downwards. You fell over on top of one of the boxes, hitting your hip and most likely leaving a bruise. 

As soon as the room stopped, you slowly stood up. Of course, you quickly pieced together that what you were in wasn’t a room at all - but rather an elevator where the Russian’s happened to be keeping their things. Now, not only were you deep below the ground, but the doors to the elevator were completely covered over by a metal wall. 

As soon as you stood up, moving to stand with everyone else, you felt the need to collapse back onto the ground in some sort of defeat. “I didn’t think this was how we were going to die, of all the ways.” 

Steve kneeled in front of you, “We’re not gonna die, we just have to find a way out of here.” he tried to reassure you as he stood back up and started looking around for something. You assumed he was looking for some kind of emergency switch or exit, or maybe a way to get above the elevator in order to get out. 

But that kind of idea was quickly shot down, realizing that this might as well have been a metal box that you were all stuck in. There didn’t seem to be a way out.

“Maybe someone will come back in the morning, we could just…” You trailed off, making the motion of running your finger over your throat. 

“We are not going to kill whoever comes in here, Y/N.” Robin replied, a nearly disappointed look on her face at the way that your mind had instantly gone to that. 

“My point still stands, someone is probably going to come in here for whatever that green shit is tomorrow, if we hide I’m sure there will be a way to hold the door open. Better yet, maybe it’ll just go back up.” You said, feeling as if your brain was finally clicking into place. Most likely because this wasn’t the first time you were in a life or death situation, and truthfully it wasn’t the scariest either. 

“But what if they don’t come back for like… a week or something for another delivery.” Dustin added on, but you shook your head.

“That thing can’t just be sitting here, they’ve gotta do something with it I’m sure.” You said confidently. Maybe you weren’t too confident that someone was going to come back tomorrow, maybe someone wouldn’t be back for a few days, but you didn’t want to think about that. 

“In the meantime, though, we should try to find a way out in case whoever comes back tomorrow knows that we’re here.” Robin said, something that you couldn’t help but agree with.

It was about two hours before you had just given up, deciding that you most likely weren’t going to find a way out as everyone has scoured every inch of the elevator that you were stuck in. You gave the ‘Open Door’ button one last press before sliding back against the wall, a yawn escaping your lips as you leaned your head back. 

You felt someone beside you, and turned to find Steve sitting next to you, a defeated look on his face. “We’re not gonna die here,” You said. But you weren’t sure if you were saying it in an attempt to reassure yourself or to reassure Steve.

“Even if we do get out…” He trailed off, seemingly not wanting to think about what could happen next. “We were just supposed to come in here and leave. Not… get stuck down here.” He seemed frustrated and somewhat exhausted.

“We came down here to stop bad people from doing bad things, it just went a little wrong.” You said, wanting to bring some kind of hope into the discussion. But even before you didn’t have much hope that just the few of you could do much of anything, and now you’d all gotten stuck in an elevator.

“I didn’t want you down here with all the Russians, you know that right?” Steve asked, turning to look at you as you finally met his eyes. “I know you didn’t even want to be involved with this and if you get killed ‘cause of me-” 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to be involved, it’s that I didn’t want you to get hurt. It was never about me.” You said rather softly, watching his expression seemingly change for a moment as he got ready to do or say something - which one, you weren’t sure - but he seemed to stop himself when you let out another yawn.

“You can sleep, Y/N, I won’t let anything happen to you - I promise.” He said, sort of comfortingly as he wrapped an arm around you and let you rest your head gently on his shoulder.

“Goodnight Stevie.” You mumbled as you quickly fell asleep, the exhaustion from working and the stress of the day and the current situation being enough to effectively knock you out. 

It was only another few hours before you woke up at the feeling of movement, not really doing anything about it until you eventually heard the sound of a door opening. You were concealed by a box, and thankfully whoever had come in wouldn’t be able to see you. As you came to a bit more, you noticed Steve slide a box in between the doors that had opened to stop them from closing again. 

You followed everyone out of the room, “Nothing happened while you were asleep.” Dustin said from in front of you, your eyes moving over as you realized he was speaking to you. 

“Well, I figured, we were locked in a room - but I guess you never know.” You responded, quietly, as you walked down the hallway - your eyes practically running around the room as you made sure that there was nobody in there with you. 

It was a little while longer, everyone walking down corridors and you mostly being quiet out of fear that someone was going to hear you, that you would speak at the wrong time.

Eventually you reached what seemed to be some sort of communication room, but as you walked in you were face to face with a Russian Soldier. You froze for a minute, before searching for some sort of blunt object that you could use - for a moment considering throwing your shoes at the man. But Robin distracted him by reiterating the Russian code to him, and Steve seemed to think quick enough to knock the man out. 

“Good thinking,” You said as you turned to Robin - before your eyes began scanning the room. Finally, they found a door, and you walked with Robin to it, assuming that the others were following.

“Thanks,” She trailed off, seemingly distracted as she pushed open a door. You stood in shock of what you were staring at, the other three following you both into the room as Robin motions them in.

“Shit…” You trailed off, your brain connecting what you were looking at. Of course this had to be the reason that they were in a small town like Hawkins, seeing it before you made everything make perfect sense. Or, as much sense as a situation like this could possibly make to someone with a limited understanding of any of it. 

Quickly, you all made your way out of the room, looking for an escape before Erica noticed that the Russian soldier was no longer with Steve. By the time you’d all realized, though, it was too late. 

The only thing that you could do was run as fast as your feet could carry you, following after the other four. But you couldn’t be shocked that you were outnumbered, and try as you might to look for any type of exit it was obvious to you that there wasn’t going to be a safe exit - at least not for everyone.

You watched as Dustin and Erica quickly walked over to a vent, Steve pushing you toward them. “Go! It’ll be safer-”

“I can handle myself, Steve.” You replied back, urgently trying to get back over to the door with Robin. 

“It’s not about that, just go I don’t need you to di-”

“No! Not without you!” You finally yelled back, Steve seeming to stop for a moment before accepting that there wasn’t enough time to convince you to go with Dustin and Erica. You watched as they got away, knowing at that moment that your choice had been completely solidified. 

The next thing you knew, there was a swift punch to your face - the world going black, and all of the commotion surrounding you seeming to just fade away. 

You weren’t sure how long it was before you woke up again, but you seemed to come to your senses rather quickly. The room you were shoved into was rather small, almost like a mop closet but it was completely empty - a flickering fluorescent being your only form of light. There was no one with you, for a couple seconds, that is. 

Within a few moments of waking up a man walked into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him as you turned to you with a smug expression.

“You put up quite a fight, you know.” the man commented, much to your dismay.

“I can’t… I don’t remember that.” You responded, which, again to your dismay, made him seem to laugh for just a moment as your confusion.

“No, you wouldn’t, we’ve already injected you with the serum we’re about to give your friends.” He said, glancing down at you for a moment, seemingly at your body. “Have you looked at yourself?” The commented, again, with a smug expression on his face.

It was then that you glanced down, multiple knife wounds on your body, blood covering the front of your shirt. “Wh-”

“The serum will stop the pain for a little while, but if you don’t start telling the truth soon…” He trailed off, moving closer to you and pressing down on the wound that you could only assume was a stab, though it felt as if it was covered by a bandage, “You’re going to regret it.” 

You watched as blood pooled around where he was pressing, but the serum was strong enough to make it only feel like an intense pressure, almost like getting a root canal at the dentist's office - you know something terrible is happening, but can only kind of feel it. 

At that moment you could only realize: he had mentioned your friends. “Where are they, where did you take them.” You grunted out, almost instinctively reaching for the man’s neck as he moved back.

“It wouldn’t matter if I told you, the way things are going - they’re not going to make it out of the day.” he responded, his thick Russian accent making his words harder to understand - but you understand perfectly clear what he was trying to say.

“If you don’t fucking tell me where they are I swear to God I will fucking bite you- I will bite your Adam’s Apple out you son of a-” That was enough to make the man swiftly slap you across the face, standing up and waling to the door. 

“If you don’t want the easy way… I guess I’ll just send in the doctor.” He said, walking out of the room and leaving you alone.

As you stood up to look for some way out, assuming there had to be a way, you narrowly dodged a vent falling from above you. “Dustin?!” You whisper-yelled, watching as he dropped from the vent and onto the ground.

“What the hell happened to you?” He asked, taking in your bloodied form. 

“I don’t remember- Where’s Steve?” You asked him, watching as he moved toward the door with what appeared to be a couple bobby pins he had gotten from Erica. 

“We’re going to get him right now,” He started as the door unlocked. “How is it that you got stabbed and your first question is ‘where’s Steve’?” Dustin questioned as he peeked his head out of the door way before motioning for you to follow him out. 

You followed Dustin out, feeling the familiar pressure of the stab wound on your waistline - now that you were standing, it was clear that it was somewhere on the far left part of your hip - thankfully far away from any important organs. 

As you walked through the long corridors, making sure to avoid any hubs of people, you found yourself passing by the very room that you last remembered being in - before being brought to another interrogation room. Dustin prodded a man in a lab coat with a large, electrified metal rod before you both made quick work of untying Steve and Robin.

Despite your current bloodied and wounded state, you still found yourself getting a lump in your throat seeing the injuries that Steve had sustained. 

“You’re going to be okay, we’re all going to be okay.” You said once you had finally gotten the ties done on his hands - resting a hand on the side of his cheek for a moment before turning to Dustin. “You know how to get out of here?” You questioned, watching as he nodded in response. “Alright then, good.” 

You ran after Dustin, making sure Robin and Steve were behind you both as you got into the cart, leaning your head against the wall as you sat across from Steve and Robin.

You tilted your head at their current state, before remembering the mention of a serum - one you were supposed to have had, but you just assumed it was why you couldn’t remember anything that happened to you; that and the fact that it was probably working overtime to numb the pain of your wound. 

For the first time, you pulled your shirt up slightly. Your suspicion was correct, they had put a bandage over the wound. But it was flimsy at best, leaving a large patch of blood on your hip where you had been bleeding through. 

You dropped your shirt quickly, shifting uncomfortably as you followed everyone into the elevator. Maybe it was how quickly it was moving, or maybe it was just the natural span of the drugs, but you felt your head begin to pound, and with it you felt the stab wound for the first time; a sharp pain coming through as you let out a groan.

“You’re not looking too good,” Dustin commented as you looked over toward him with a slight glare. 

“I’ll meet you back at the movie theater, just let me run and get a first aid kit.” You responded, once you’d finally gotten out of the elevator. It felt odd being in the movie theater, having just escaped from a Russian lab directly under where you were at the moment. 

As soon as you stepped out you quickly made your way to The Gap, knowing that there was a first aid kit kept in the back. You reached your hand into the side of your bra, pulling out the store key that you kept in there and sliding it into the lock - twisting it and making a painful bolt for the back of the store.

Letting out another loud groan, you grabbed the first aid kit and basically dropped onto the ground, leaning against the wall for support as you hiked your shirt up and removed the bandage.

It was a painful process, trying to clean up the blood and tightly wrap a bandage on in a timely manner - but you managed, with perhaps less than a dozen cuss words uttered. 

As soon as you were finished, you reached into the kit and pulled out a few advil’s, doing your best to swallow them without water before locking the kit back up and making your way back out of the store - but as you looked down at your clothing you sighed and grabbed a shirt and jacket, changing quickly before walking back out. Stealing was wrong, but in this case you knew you would raise some sort of suspicion if you ran out covered in blood. You locked the store back up and left  to go to the movie theater. 

You didn’t end up making it all the way back as you found the scoops troop gathered outside of the bathroom. “Wh-”

“Long story,” Dustin cut you off as you all noticed people beginning to pour out of the movie theater. “Let’s go.” He said, and you followed after him.

“What happened to you, Dustin mentioned something about getting stabbed?” Steve questioned, watching as you turned to look over at him.

“Well… I got stabbed.” You said, almost teasingly as you walked out of the movie theater area with them. “I can’t believe this worked.” You said, a small grin of relief covering your face as you made your way to the door of the mall - but before you did, your hopes were immediately dashed by the men checking identifications at the door. 

You ran quickly through the crowd of people, running anywhere that you could possibly run to hide from the people following after you - as you finally jumped behind the scoops ahoy counter you hugged your knees to your chest, slowing your breathing as best as you could as you scooted in next to Steve.

It felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest as you heard the last voice exit the movie theater, your head quickly turning to face Steve. He slowly moved his hand to slide into yours, you weren’t sure if he was attempting to calm your fears or his own but you didn’t care because in that moment it helped you. 

There was so much you needed to say, so much you knew you were never going to say as you heard the men’s footsteps draw closer to the countertop. But then the car started going off, and after the loud noise of an automobile crash you popped your head up to see the men having been crushed by a car. 

As you glanced up, you saw the rest of the party on the ledge above, your face breaking out into a grin as you stood up. “We’re alive!” You said, rather enthusiastically as you turned to look at Steve. He didn’t seem to have much time to respond as you quickly pulled him into a tight hug, the grin never leaving your face as you pulled back to look at him. “I really thought we were gonna die for like… the second time tonight and I-”

You were cut off as you felt him lean in to quickly press his lips against yours in an urgent kiss. It didn’t take more than a couple seconds for you to pull him closer - even if it just lasted for a few moments.

“I’m sorry, I just realized I had some unfinished business while we were about to die.” He said as he finally pulled back, a small smile covering your lips as you looked at him. 

“That’s crazy, because I felt the exact same way.” You said in a rather playful manner, your conversation cut short as you hear someone clear their throat.

“If you two are finished making out, we have a situation at hand.” Dustin commented, watching as you both begrudgingly got out from behind the counter and joined the rest of the group. You seemed to tune out the conversation though, your eyes settling on El. She seemed uncomfortable, you assumed at first she must just be hurting from the wound you noticed on her leg, but it seemed to be much worse than you had suspected. 

As soon as El collapsed to the ground you followed after her, before you noticed that something in her leg was moving. You were all going to have to act fast to figure out how you could help her, and Jonathan seemed to be the one that had figured out how. 

You did your best to calm the poor girl down, but you knew that it wasn’t going to end up working.because there was no way that she was going to end up feeling better with the amount of pain that she was clearly in at the moment. 

It was difficult for you to watch when Jonathan brought back the knife, even more difficult when you watched as the poor girl got her leg sliced into, his hand going in to dig out the intruder in her leg. You leaned back a bit when she decided to do it herself, moments away from asking if there was anything you could do before she ended up getting the thing out of her leg and throwing it to the side.

When you looked up, you noted that there was three more people in the room with you all - maybe this would be easier with them here. Maybe.

As you stood up from your place on the floor, you made your way over to sit beside Robin. “Are you okay?” You questioned as you turned to look at her, but she didn’t seem to have a solid answer. 

There was so much going on, and part of you didn’t even know how to comprehend it even though this wasn’t the first time that something like this had happened. You did your best to listen to the plans that were being made, but you figured it would be easier to just wait and see what you were going to end up doing.

You found out much sooner than expected as you left in a car with Robin, Steve, Dustin and Erica only moments later to go find a way for Dustin to guide Hopper, Murray and Joyce through the mall. 

You quickly walked out of the mall, your eyes widening as you turned to look at Steve. “I accepted King Steve, not too sure I’m down with Daddy Steve.” You teased as you got into the car. 

As you did Steve sent you a playful glare, “You know you love it, who wouldn’t.” He responded back with a grin and a teasing kiss on your cheek as he started up the car.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Dustin seemed vehemently opposed to just giving Steve some normal directions to where he was being expected to drive you all, but maybe it was easier this way in some sense. Not that you were sure what sense that was, but perhaps it was easier for Dustin. Or, perhaps he just wanted to be difficult. 

You were rather calm, feeling the breeze in your hair despite the situation as you drove down the country roads. But what you weren’t expecting at all was the drive up a literal grassy hill. 

You let out a shocked yelp at the feeling of the grass under the car, and the feeling like the car was about to roll off of the hill. Thankfully it didn’t, but as the car cut out and you sat in shock you slowly realized that the car wasn’t going to work any further. 

You all got out of the car, walking up the hill and sitting down next to Dustin’s communication machine, watching as he attempted to get into contact with Suzie. 

“You know, maybe Suzie is asleep-” You started, but held your hands up defensively as Dustin sent a cold glare your way. 

You sat rather calmly in the grass for a little while, your eyes moving up to watch the stars before you turned to glance again at Steve. “You know, I did mean what I said earlier.” Steve said as he scooted over to sit closer to you.

“That you think I love calling you Daddy Steve?” You questioned with a tone of bewilderment in your voice as you stared at him. 

“What? No, I mean… when I thought that we were going to die I just- I realized that I um… I had some unfinished business because i uh-” He seemed to cut himself off, not really knowing what to say without being awkward. 

“I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to say but I’m pretty sure I feel the same way I mean I was literally stabbed and I was all like ‘oh god- but what about Steve’.” You said, more awkward than you intended.

“It’s true, she was asking about you when I rescued her.” Dustin said, you motioning to him.

“See? I just-” You cut yourself off as you glanced down, your eyes finding that of the mall. “You see that too, right?” You questioned. Steve turned where you were looking and his eyes widened. 

“Uh… guys?” He said, pointing to the mall. 

Dustin began to frantically try to contact the people in Starcourt, but when he did all that you heard was the sound of a monstrous roar that was absolutely not Mike Wheeler, or anyone else in that mall. 

You and Steve seemed to have the same idea as you shared a glance and stood from your place on the ground, running down the hill without saying anything before Dustin questioned where you were going. You didn’t know what you were going to be able to do, just you Steve and Robin weren’t going to be able to save everyone. But you would be damned if you didn’t try, at the very least. There had to be something you could do, even if it was the move of a martyr. 

You quickly got into the car, watching as Steve struggled to get it started before backing up down the hill. You were surprised that it ended up working, but glad that you would be able to have something that would, hopefully, get you all to the mall quicker than you would have been able to get there on foot. 

As Steve sped to the mall, you found yourself fruitlessly trying to find a way to look at it and see something, anything, that was going on there - maybe even someone from the mall having escaped. But you found nothing, no matter how hard you looked. 

“Are there any weapons or something in here?” 

“No! No there’s nothing here I checked on the way.” Robin responded, seemingly as stressed out about this as you were. 

Once you made it to the parking lot you saw a car trying to crash into your friends, trying to escape from the mall. You recognized the car to be Billy’s, which was odd since you had no idea why he could possibly be there. 

You hopped out of the now destroyed car you were in, looking around for somewhere to go before you heard someone yell to get in. You quickly got into the back of the van with everyone else, listening to the communication channels as you finally heard the voice you had been waiting to hear; honestly thinking that it was probably not real.

“Suzie is real…” You trailed off, letting out a laugh at the sound of her singing with Dustin on the communication channel. While it hardly seemed to be the right time or place, you were absolutely not going to let Dustin live that down the next time that you saw him.

You all made your way back to the mall when the commotion stopped, when it seemed like everything was over, to make sure that everyone was okay. But when you got there, you quickly learned that both Billy and Hopper didn’t survive the attack. 

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling tears well in your eyes - maybe it was the stress, maybe it was because Hopper who you’d known was dead, or because of how El was going to feel after losing him. But you felt absolutely distraught at the news. Steve pulled you into his side, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head before an EMT stopped in front of you. 

“Ma’am… you’re bleeding.” She said lightly, pointing to the wound on your hip. 

“Oh- Yeah I… um… long night would you-” 

She cut you off with an immediate nod, bringing you back to stitch up your wound. You insisted that you would be okay without going back to the hospital, and she very begrudgingly let you go so long as you weren’t going to be alone.

It was a rather short, and mainly silent, walk back home with Steve. As you stopped in front of your door, you turned to look at him. “Would you… um… come in?” You questioned, Steve nodding lightly as he followed you into your house and to your bedroom. 

Neither of you really had any interest in changing, the stress of the day being enough to make you not feel the need to change - you just wanted to lay down with Steve. 

As Steve laid down, pulling you under the covers as you rested your head in the crook of his neck, you felt him mumble something against your hair.

“What was that?” You questioned, your head moving up to look into his eyes.

“Earlier, I was trying to tell you that I love you and… thinking I was going to die without saying it… I was so scared.” he said, his eyes soft and genuine.

Your lips formed a smile, light, but all you could manage after the long day. “I love you too, Steve, I- I think I always have.” You said lightly, feeling him learn down slightly as you met him in the middle for a soft kiss. 

As you both pulled back you let out a sigh, “Does this count as our sleepover?” You asked playfully, Steve letting out a laugh as he shook his head.

“No, expect me over for dinner tomorrow night.” He said matter-of-factly as he looked at you.

“Fair… I don’t think I want to be alone for a little while anyway.” You said, a certain vulnerability showing that seemed to make Steve’s eyes soften.

“You never have to be alone, you know that right?” He asked, to which you nodded and pressed another soft kiss to his lips before resting your head once more. 

“Pinkie promise?” You asked softly, to which he held out his pinkie, your two fingers intertwining - a moment later just shifting to tangle your hands together. 

There were a lot of obvious reasons to fear staying in Hawkins, to resent the things that you were exposed to through the life that you had - nothing about it was normal. But you wouldn’t trade it for the world, because Steve was the only normalcy that you needed. You knew he would never leave, because for you both a pinkie promise meant forever.

[miserabull]

A very long meta-analysis on P2 Bad Grief

So, I've gone over every dialogue with this guy a few times, and there is some stuff I've never seen addressed before. This is a mix of analyzing and theory that have been in my head for a while, and I’d love to know if it all also makes sense to other people

The thing about Classic and P2 Grief, is that they are very different characters playing the same role. Who is Bad Grief? A thief, a kingpin of the town's criminal underbelly, and a smuggler working for Big Vlad. In P1, he's also a dangerous murderer who kills people for fun, but denies it, even claims that he kicks people out of his gang for daring to take up knives. Dude lies a lot. In fact, he maintains the lie up until the last route, the Changeling's, and then tries that on her too but ends up confessing. This is my very wordy way of saying that while I kinda agree with people who are like "he's not a violent murderer like P1 Grief", P1 Grief also claimed to not be one up to the last minute. I don't think they are making him a sadistic killer this time, yeah, but I'm pretty sure he's a liar, and that there's a darker secret. The game implies Grief keeps his cards close to his chest and there is more to him several times, like here, when you talk with Lara's reflection

Lara's Reflection: You see, she puts her stock in deeds and not in words. So Stakh was always close to her; for he would hear his heart, and act. A trait you share, Burakh.

Haruspex: And the most taciturn of us all, Bad Grief.

Lara's Reflection: He speaks so much yet does so much more.

or when Artemy confronts him at Aspity's Hospice:

Bad Grief: You heard about Rubin? Know why the Kin wants him dead? He's walkin' around all downcast, doesn't sleep. Says not to ask. Says it's safer like that. What's he done, I wonder? I wanted to ask Sahba, but maybe you know?

Haruspex: You're lying. That's not what you wanted to ask. I can tell.

Bad Grief: If I did lie, I wouldn't tell you the truth now anyway, would I? So back off. 

I'm not gonna go over the blowing-the-train tracks quest now, though I have some thoughts on it/what I think might be his plan there. For now it suffices to say that that whole thing is very odd, that his plan doesn't make sense(yeah, blowing up the tracks is a bad idea for his business. kinda meaningless though if the alternative is being hanged). That is to say, I'm pretty sure there's a hidden agenda there that we're probably only finding out in Changeling route.

So, what I mean is, if you think P2 Grief is harmless, or just a clown, or became a gang leader by accident, then, well. I think honey, you got a big storm comin'

A few more notes on Grief's character, and what I think of what we got so far:

-I believe the reflection(I have some thoughts about the nature of those too, actually lmao) is telling the truth, mostly. He is terrified, he doesn't want Artemy to think badly of him, he never wanted violence. P2 Grief is younger, more sympathetic, and very obviously more scared than his P1 counterpart. I don't think he's out there killing for fun. Still, I think he has a lot of blood on his hands anyway.

-I think his loyalty to his friends is sincere. He's kind of really big on companionship and loyalty, which fits, as a gang member. I really think that he wants to belong, to a gang, to a friend group, somewhere. Artemy mentions he's "always been weird" a couple of times, or stuff like "I knew you'd end up like this." and that thing with Lara's reflection... I think Grief was always a little bit on the margins, even in his own friend group, and that's why he made a place for himself as the leader of the misfits, of the people who don't fit what the town considers to be good society. I gotta get on with this because this is gonna be long enough without me rambling about every single thought and feeling I have about this bastard though

-He doesn't give away Stakh's hideout accidentally because he's goofy and dumb. He mentions more or less where it is like, three times. I think it's obvious that he's practically asking Artemy to go check on him, but he doesn't want to be a snitch, so he plays the fool like "Oooh no I gave you a hint, I sure hope you don't go looking for him now, don't ask me because I’d never tell!!". He's playing the clown, he's not that stupid

Okay, now we're getting to the heart of things. In P1, along with the reveal that he's actually a violent murderer who played another violent murderer(Barley) into taking the fall for his crimes, we get something else: he's working under the patronage and protection of Vlad Olgimsky. In P2, they put a lot more emphasis on that, Grief will tell you about it in the first AND second conversation you have. There is even a certain imagery associated with it... actually, allow me a quick digression here, I wanna go over some motifs around Grief. 

Grief is pretty into clockwork and gears, going by his choice of decoration for his Lair. The town itself is compared to a machine several times, by himself, by Big Vlad, and regarding how the Kains view it. I risk to say that the way Grief sees it is rather different from the Kains, at least at first.  For him it seems to be more of a blunt factory machine, while to the Kains...it means something else, more complex. Grief seems to have glimpsed what that is inside the Cathedral, near the end. That reminds me of something else, in the Diurnal End when Grief talks about how he used to be a clocksmith before, and now he's going to be "another kind of clocksmith", I don't think he's necessarily being literal in either case. Curiously, there's also a Clocksmith inside the Cathedral in Marble Nest...but I'm going off topic again

Bad Grief: Not a keeper of stores, but stories. This town, this great machine, the gears don't turn on their own, no, not till they're slick with secrets. 

But so, webs and puppets. We return to Vlad Olgimsky(old), who uses the metaphor of his “web”. There's also an important character in Grief's journey that is strongly associated with (spider)webs and strings, and that's Aglaya. The most notable time Grief himself refers to it though, I think, it's in the Theatre of Death, if you let him die:

“My path was not called 'The Spider'. No, think wider. It was 'The Silkworm'! The end of a railroad, I pulled strings firm; unaware someone more cunning pulled mine upstairs.”

So about that. He’s referring to the PTB right? Probably, but not only. A theme in Patho is like...these layers of manipulation. I’m gonna pass the mic to P1 Clara and Saburov for a second:

Alexander Saburov: Begin with the Olgimskys. That is the most important sin for me, and the least for him, for it is not his fault. So did Olgimsky protect his illicit trade? Did he benefit from it?

Changeling: He didn't just benefit; he presided over it. Grief was his stooge.

Alexander Saburov: Now then, we shall skip the issue of the barber gang, since it's clear now who their true mastermind was... thanks to your courage, my brave girl.

Changeling: Don't skip it just yet. Barley was as much of a puppet in Grief's hands as Grief himself was for Olgimsky. Everyone has their toys.”

Grief is a puppet in Vlad’s hands both in P1 and P2, as there he says he’s Vlads “eyes and ears” in the warehouses. In the Cathedral, he seems to more or less realize the extent of it, and how it goes against what he always wanted in the first place: to not be trapped by anything. 

Bad Grief: I used to be a thief, yet they made me a storekeeper. And what a perfect fit I made! I got my Warehouse kingdom, and with it, the insides of the Town's great machine. I kept Vlad's riches while havin' all I could dream of. Can't imagine a sweeter life.

Funnily enough, by that time he’s trapped in someone else’s web: Aglaya’s. That seems to be his thing, he thought he was in control and playing everyone, knowing all the secrets and pulling strings. In the end, he’s a Silkworm in the web of bigger fish. I mean, spiders.

Bad Grief: ...Yet they, too, are controlled by someone. Insane to think what kind of teeth you need for that.

But okay. Back to the start, I believe Grief has a lot of blood in his hands even before shit breaks loose. The things he seems to be most afraid of are also… interesting. This ties to his connection to Big Vlad, and the Kin.

Grief’s role in the payroll seems to be as a stool pigeon. He knows where everyone goes, what people are talking about, what they don’t want to become public. And he responds to Big Vlad. What I think is, hm, you know, even after Victoria passed it seems like the Kin and the Bull Enterprise never really defied Olgimsky, or had a leader in any way. Grief, too, seems to enjoy a pretty comfortable life for a gang leader. As an important piece to Vlad, he really doesn’t have that much to fear, since the guy “owns everything” and is very explicit to Artemy about how he can destroy anyone who doesn’t obey him. And probably has done that before. My guess is, Grief kept the machine working right by tattling, so no leadership or enemy to Vlad’s Enterprise could rise. I’d speculate that Vlad possibly paid the favor not only financially, but by maintaining Grief in that position. Basically, I think with Grief’s info, Vlad could eliminate any potential problem. That would mean that maybe without even having to shed blood himself there might be a lot of deaths Grief is responsible for, not to speak of the maintenance of that horrible system in the town. I think the route they are going for here is that Grief is a class traitor.

Why do I say that? Well, first let’s look at Grief’s relationship with the Kin: he’s remarkably close to them for a townie. Geographically, obviously, and also in the sense of living on the margins of society, but he also shares many of their superstitions, and seems to hold Aspity’s opinion in high regard(even calls her Sahba). I find it easy to believe that many of his men are part of the community as well, due to not being welcome in the town. At that time we see him in the Hospice though, and talking with the Kin people there, it’s pretty clear that they are planning some sort of uprising. That it’s imminent. Grief seems to know it. Seems to be absolutely terrified of that too, and to feel betrayed by Vlad.

Bad Grief: It's too late for me, Cub. I've only got one road ahead of me now. Perhaps the outbreak is for the best... Plagues are like fires, people forget old scores. And all hell will break loose here soon.

Haruspex: Any dark prophecies to share? You're the criminal mastermind here, after all.

Bad Grief: No need to prophesize. People fear hunger. Even honest workers will turn their hatchets and hammers to crime. Burglin' houses, lootin' corpses, guttin' each other. They will. Oh, they will.

Haruspex: Not all of them, Grief. Not all.

Bad Grief: The turf's so dry, you don't even need a match-a glare would start a fire. And when the Kin bares its teeth, that's when we'll all dance! They're slow on the start, but oh so fast on the draw! The Master likes them mute and obedient, but apathy makes them that way, not stupidity. They're only obedient till the time comes. And here it comes.

And the people who lose their jobs? They won't be too fond of staying home. They'll find new hobbies, like looking for food, or venting their anger. ...And Fat Vlad shut his facilities down the day before yesterday, didn't he? Crafty... Didn't whisper so much as a single word to me. Do you think he knew?

At the same time he seems to think that he deserves this, and it’s inevitable. “We reap what we sow”, paraphrasing him. He talks a few times about how there’s a vile beast inside each person in the town, about how they are all wretched and everything, including him, which I think might just be a way of coping like “yeah, I sold out, but anyone would do the same if they were in my place”. 

So, yeah. What I think is that Grief was a guy that had no power and money, with absolutely no perspective, who due to his very particular skills had an opportunity to climb up and took it(all while still getting to pretend he’s an outlaw, free from the chains of society!). And it’s...very bad. And he knows it’s very bad, and he’s not evil or sadistic, but he’s immature, cowardly, and desperately wants to be in control of his own destiny, and to not be alone, and all that. He’s still Artemy’s childhood buddy, a loyal friend, and someone who never really wanted to cause that much damage. He also knows that what he did is unjustifiable, and that no matter what he truly feels, the damage is done and he’s guilty of horrible shit.