#or for those who were but have been gone for so long that everything is different

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (V)

alexia putellas x sister chapter I, II, III, IV from alexia's perspective tonight :)

~~~~~~

My younger sister hates me. 

I don't know why, I don't even know when it happened. 

But I know that my younger sister hates me, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. 

I have known there was something wrong since she started skipping our dinners on Thursdays, claiming to have Barcelona B training until late. 

I knew they finished up an hour before dinner started. 

Alba says that I spent to much time away from her, that I didn't focus on her enough. 

Mami says that she is growing up and simply becoming less reliant on her older sisters. 

But neither of those explanations seem to make sense, because my younger sister is not the girl that I once knew any more. 

The girl who would sleep in my bed every night, who wiped my tears when I cried and put a smile on my face when all I wanted to do was bury my face into my pillow and scream about how unfair the world was. 

Because she's Elena and she's happy, she always has been.

But Elena does not seem happy anymore. And I don't know when it changed, but I hate myself for not being there to make her smile like she did for me so many times when we were younger. I hate myself for not being there to put a smile back on her face as soon as it fell off. 

She lives with bags under her eyes, her usually olive skin turned pale, her eyes constantly downcast and her eyebrows set in a solemn line. 

She used to tell me everything, but then I blinked and my baby sister's name was on my team sheet and I didn't even know she had been training with the first team. 

Mami said that she was sleeping, that she didn't want to talk about it now. Mapi told me the next day that she found her 45 minutes away from home, sitting in the park by her house. 

I should have been there more, I should have gone to her games. I know that, everyone knows that. But I broke up with Jenni, who had been my rock for as long as I could remember. I broke up with Jenni and she moved to Mexico, leaving me alone for the first time, in an apartment full of memories that would swallow me every time I entered.

I felt alone, every fibre of my being felt alone. I was isolated and my world was crumbling around me. And I didn't know who to turn to, I didn't know where I could find support. 

I didn't know that Elena was sat at home in bed, staring at her phone and waiting for me to call her, to text her. 

I used to call her every night, but slowly, those phone calls died out. Elena would all asleep with her phone in her lap. Until she gave up. Until she switched her phone off as soon as she reached her bedroom in the evenings. 

Back when Papi died, I relied probably a bit too much on my little sister to get me through it. Mami always said it was the wrong thing so I didn't want to make that mistake again. I avoided Elena, not wanting her to realise how weak I really am. She always said she admired me for being strong, powerful. I was her inspiration, her hero. 

I didn't want to ruin that image she had of me by crying on Mami's couch, unable to be alone after something as superficial as a breakup. 

But I think I ruined that image in other ways. 

I stopped going to her games. 

I stopped holding her as she fell asleep in my lap on a Thursday evening, instead watching her move further and further away from me on the sofa, until she wasn't there at all. 

I stopped being there for her, helping her with her homework, picking her up from training, taking her out for ice cream. 

I stopped being her sister, and I don't think I will ever forgive myself. 

I don't think she will ever forgive me either. 

And to make everything worse, I only thought about it properly when Olga brought it up a few weeks ago. 

"Why haven't I met your younger sister yet? There are so many photos of her here, but I have never even spoken to her."

It was then that everything came crashing down, reality hitting me like a truck, driving 100 kilometres an hour along the highway. 

Olga couldn't understand why I was suddenly sobbing into her arms, my words more incoherent than my thoughts. But she held me close and told me one thing. 

"If there is something wrong with your little sister, you need to fix it."

Obviously she was right, she didn't need to tell me that. 

I felt an enormous surge of guilt explode inside of me, and for once Olga's arms didn't do anything to help me. I don't deserve her comfort, I don't deserve to feel good when I have left my baby sister behind. 

Because she is everything to me but I haven't spoken to her in two years. 

I don't know how I let it go this far.

~~~~~~

Mapi's voice is scratchy and quiet over the phone, and I could tell something is wrong. She wouldn't tell me what. 

"Elena is here with me. I texted Eli but she didn't reply but I needed to tell someone that she is safe and asleep in my spare room. We will take her to the game in the morning."

She didn't say much else, other than that she found my sister at the park after she had taken the bus from home. 

But, the look that she gave me at the game the next day told me everything I need to know. 

It wasn't angry, really, she just looked confused and hurt. She looked upset as well and I knew exactly what it was about. Because Elena has always loved Mapi, and Mapi has always treated Elena like a little sister. 

Elena would have told Mapi something, and even though I don't know what it was, I know it would have been bad enough to make Mapi overthink everything, to realise how awful I have been over the past few years. 

I was anxious through the whole game, separated from my best friend by Frido and Jana, trying my best to ignore the looks that Mapi kept sending me. 

The looks that were filled with such emotion that I couldn't handle. Emotions that were hard to read because they were filled with so much meaning. 

I am too much of a coward to face her and my consequences, I realise, so I ignore it for as long as I can. 

But I knew I could not avoid everything when Mami pulled me to the side after the rest of the girls had gone back into the changing rooms, after Alba had gone to the bathroom. 

"What are you doing?" 

She was furious, and for good reason. But I stay silent, still too scared, too guilty about everything I had done. The only thing on my mind was  trying to figure out how I could ever fix this. 

"Alexia Putellas! Answer me! What are you doing?" 

Her face was almost red, but if I looked hard enough I would have been able to see the tears that dried up in her eyes, never given the chance to slip down her face. 

"What do you mean, Mami?" 

She rolled her eyes dramatically and scoffed loudly. 

"Your baby sister is 15 years old and without any help from you, her older sister, was sitting on the bench for your team. The best team in Europe. She is 15, Alexia! This is such a huge achievement and all she wants is a hug from you, for you to tell her you are proud of her, that you love her. But no. Nothing. Nothing at all from the great Alexia Putellas who cares about nothing but her career!" 

Mami's words are a slap in the face, really. Thinking back to them, however, they are the truth. The terrible, painful, horrendous truth. 

Not that I don't care about anything but my career, of course, but about how I haven't done anything to help Elena get to where she is. 

I pause before responding, debating internally how I should respond. 

I could respond with fire, but that would just make Mami even more furious.

So I don't. 

"I know she is, Mami! That is why I am about to go do exactly that. I am so, so proud of her but I can't find the words to tell her just how proud I am."

She looks at me for a moment, as if assessing the validity of my statement. 

"We are going out to dinner tonight, Alexia. You are coming with us and we are celebrating Elena. Not you, Elena."

I nod, telling her that I will go get Elena and meet her and Alba outside. 

Except that doesn't happen, because I see Elena in the changing rooms, but she doesn't seem to want to have anything to do with me. 

I see the 15 year old girl laughing and interacting with my team, holding Aitana close and whispering in her ear. 

But honestly, the whole scene flipped my insides out. I am not focused on Olga as she chats to me, as she notices how distant I am from reality, moving towards Mapi. 

When I do finally speak to my sister, it does not go well. She is cold and I don't know how to get through to her because she is right to not want to talk to me, she is right to stick up for herself. I have messed up and I still have no idea how to fix things. And until I do, she is right to act like this. 

So I didn't end up going to their dinner, instead sitting alone in my apartment and staring blankly at my switched off tv, wondering what on earth I can do to fix this mess. To fix this mess that I single handedly created. 

It meant that Mami came round late, storming into my apartment, smoke practically billowing from her ears.

"You have messed up, Alexia. She is so upset and it is entirely your fault! You are stupid, you are irresponsible and you have been a terrible sister." 

I cowered under her strong gaze but she did not soften. She sat down, placing her head in her hands.

"You are almost 30! You should know better. I have not raised you to be like this, I have not raised you to throw people away without any thought, not caring how it might affect them. She is so confused and so, so upset and it is all because of you. All because you decided a few years ago that you did not have time for her anymore."

"Mami-"

There are tears in my eyes, but Mami can not see them. Mami does not care, she should not care because I did all of this, all by myself. 

"No, Alexia. You will tell me what has happened, why you have done this. You have ripped apart our family, Alexia. Alba is practically mourning the destruction of it and I just can not begin to understand why you have decided Elena doesn't mean anything to you any more."

"I haven't decided that!" My yell took my mother off guard and she recoiled. I continued before she could speak again. 

"I love her! So much and I am proud of her! I don't know what I have done, Mami and I don't know how to fix this." The tears that filled my eyes began to slip down my face. "I have ruined everything."

My voice broke and Mami softened, looking at me in confusion, some sort of inner turmoil and for the first time in my life, I recognised that she had no idea what to do. 

She didn't know what to do as I broke down into sobs, my body practically folding into itself, loud cries wracking through my body. 

"I don't know what is wrong with me." 

~~~~~~

Mami and I spoke for ages that evening. She convinced me that I should take a step back and let Elena come to me. That I should try and talk to Elena soon to tell her that I love her, that I am proud of her. 

But it ended up with another unsuccessful attempt of speaking to Elena. She was in bed and wanted nothing to do with what I wanted to say. I told her everything that Mami told me I should, ignoring the protests of my insides. 

I do not want to take a step back because I am already so far away. I want to be there for my sister like I should be, there for a hug or for some assurance. But that is not what I tell her, because apparently, that is not what would be the best for her. 

All I want is the best for her. 

I want nothing more than to tell her I want to be a part of her life like I used to be, I want things to just go back to normal. But nothing is that easy. I have to face the consequences of all my mistakes. 

Huge, terrible, life altering mistakes.

I tried again the next morning, but she ignored me completely, heading up to her room without a single utterance of a word. I could practically hear her exhale in relief as the piano chair creaked and waited until she had begun her playing to walk upstairs and sit by her door. 

She has improved at it so much, skyrocketing right past the level that Papi used to play at. The notes rang out at such a pace that I could barely keep track of where the song was going, up, down, fast, slow, loud, soft. 

The rhythms flew through the house and I didn't register the warm liquid slipping down my face until it fell with a splat into my lap. 

It is painful to realise how much I have missed; how much I miss her. 

Her playing is mesmerising and I could feel the emotion that radiates from her and her piano. 

It used to be Papi's, but now it is hers.

Because she has grown up into such a talented person and our father would be so proud of her. 

Me, I don't think he would be so proud of. 

And I hate myself because of it. 

The song broke down into soft chords and if I strained my ears I could hear her quiet whimpers. But I can't comfort her any more. 

No matter how much I want to. 

She will not be comforted by me. She doesn't want me there to comfort her. 

So I creep down the stairs and leave. I drive back to my apartment, back to Olga. 

At this point, I am used to the constant stream of water on my face. 

But there is nobody to blame but myself. 

~~~~~~

The next few weeks were equally as painful, despite Olga's efforts to lighten me up. My mood was down when I woke up in the mornings, and only got worse after training, seeing Elena light up when she spoke to my friends but escape every room I entered, cowering when I glanced over at her, leaving conversations as soon as I joined them. 

It's like she is scared of me, intimidated by me. I hate it. 

Mapi was silent in rehab, which is a big change from the constant stream of chatter I am used to. I don't think she knows what to say to me anymore, knowing what I have done. 

I wouldn't know what to say to me either. 

It is Vicky approaches me one day after training. We are all sat in the changing rooms when wanders over and asks for help with her homework. It is maths, and I tell her with a laugh that I will be no help at all, but she persists, opening her book and pointing at the maths equations, confusion written all over her face. 

I help her as much as I can, laughing at the drawings she has scrawled out on her page, explaining the trigonometry to her as she stares at me intensely. It takes a while, but she gets it eventually, finally answering a question correctly. 

"Nice, Vicky! So much better, so quickly!" 

Mapi stands up from across the room, grabbing her bag and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her. 

From where they are sitting in quiet conversation, my sister and Aitana look up at the door, their eyes scanning the room. Aitana's eyes land on me first and she rolls them dramatically, shaking her head in what looks like disgust. 

"Vicky, I did that yesterday. I can help you." 

Elena's voice is level, but I can see confusion in her eyes at the scene that had just unfolded. 

Vicky sighs in relief, closing her book and walking across the room to Elena. 

"I forgot you were smart!" She beams, plonking herself down on the seat beside my sister and they both dive into the world of mathematics. 

Aitana is standing up by now, her bag over her shoulder. 

"Alexia, can I speak to you outside?" Her voice is steady as she continues. "There is something wrong with my dribbling and I would like some help."

It is a lie and everyone knows it. There is never anything wrong with Aitana's dribbling. 

But I pick up my bag, following the shorter midfielder out the door, immediately faced by Mapi who stands there, anger all over her face. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice is low and her words come out as a whisper, full of venom. Full of anger. 

It is something I am not used to from Mapi and it takes me off guard. My hesitance gives her the chance to continue.

"Helping Vicky Lopez with her maths when you don't have the first clue whether Elena is even at school. Elena, your sister."

"She goes to school." 

My voice is full of confidence, but Mapi is right, I don't even know how she manages to fit it all in. I don't know the first thing about her timetable. 

She rolls her eyes, scoffing. 

"Do you understand just how much damage you have done?"

I nod, inhaling and exhaling deeply. 

"She hates me, I know. I have ruined everything. It is all my fault."

Mapi nods, but it is Aitana who speaks next. 

"She doesn't even hate you, Alexia. It just shows how much she loves you. You have done all this and she still loves you, still would do absolutely anything to get your approval, your attention."

I blink to stop the tears and bite the insides of my mouth to stop it from trembling. 

"She has been begging for you to notice how hard she has been working. How well she is doing. But you do not, you don't see her, it is like you are blind! And then Vicky Lopez gets a maths question right and you give her more praise than you give Elena for being selected in this team, for working hard, for being so, so incredible." 

If Aitana wasn't whispering to keep this conversation from the ears of the people in the room we just left, she would be fully yelling, her face red and her eyes narrow. 

"She is perfect, Alexia, and it is so sad because you just can't see it, you can't see how good she is, how smart, how kind, caring. And it makes me so, so angry because you have changed her so much in the past few years, and not in a good way."

Mapi puts her hand on Aitana's arm, trying to get her to stop. Mapi knows me well, and knows when I am about to break. 

But the usually stoic midfielder has tears in her eyes when she continues, her voice softening and breaking at the same time. 

"She was such a happy little girl, so excited by everything. She loves you so much and she always looked up to you. But now she is insecure, she is lonely, isolated. She is confused and feels like she needs to fight for validation every day. Everyone has pressure on them in this team, especially when they are young, new blood. Coming from La Masia and the B team you should know this, Alexia. You should know about the pressure better than anyone because I do too. But your sister? She has it worse than anyone because she has all that, but she is your sister. Alexia Putellas, two time Ballon d'Or winner. She has to live up to that in some way and is trying to hard to do it without anyone's help. She is only 15, Alexia. 15."

Aitana stops, but I am not sure whether it is because she has nothing more to say or if it is because she is too upset. She is silenced by weak tears, shaking her head as Mapi places a soft arm around her shoulder. 

"She is right, Alexia." Mapi's voice is soft and she looks at me with that same concerned glint in her eye. "And I don't know what is going on with you, but whatever it is, it needs to be fixed. You have made some significant damage and if you don't do something about it, it will all become irreparable."

"I don't know what to do." It is a cry for help, and it is all I can say without letting my tears escape from me once more. 

Because Aitana's words are nothing I don't know, but the fact that she is saying them, that she feels the need to tell me all that, is enough to tell me that it is not clear to anyone that I already know. 

Because I have been a bad sister, I am not denying it. 

And I am guilty, I feel absolutely terrible. 

Mami said to leave her alone, let her come to me, but I don't think that was her best advice any more, because my sister is struggling. 

She is struggling and I am only making it worse. 

But I can't do anything about it. 

When she was little, she would be the person I would go to when I needed to be cheered up. She would make me smile, laugh, feel better about myself and the world around me. Her small arms would wrap around me, her chubby fingers would wipe my tears from my face and she would chatter and giggle into my ears until I was smiling again. 

She was the light in our household when Papi died, but I think that was partially because she didn't understand what was happening. 

We avoided his study like it had the plague, she would go and sit on the piano stall, practicing the songs he had taught her. 

She gave us endless cuddles, basking in our attention, her heart set on making us feel better, on putting a smile back on our faces. 

She made the darkest time of our lives bearable, she helped me get through the hardest times of my life. 

And this... this is how I repay her. 

"Ale... Alexia? Ale." Mapi's hand is on my shoulder and Aitana looks at me curiously. 

"Stop, just... stop." My voice is soft, and Mapi's eyes soften as I slide down the wall behind me. "I just... I don't know what to do."

Mapi sits down beside me, perhaps thinking that maybe she had been too harsh. 

"I had Elena over yesterday." Mapi's voice is quiet. "She said... she said she misses you, Alexia. And that... she said you told her you were going to take a step back. She thinks you already did. She doesn't want that. She just wants you."

"But I have ruined everything, Maria. This is all my fault." A singular tear finds itself on my cheek and Mapi places an arm around me. 

"You're right, you made so many mistakes. But I know you, I know you love her. She means everything to you. And she loves you as well, Ale. I know you two can get through this, but she is struggling to stay afloat with all this pressure and no support. Aitana and I... we need to look out for her because your Mami works all the time and she doesn't want to burden Alba with her problems and ruin her life. We need to be there for her at the moment because the poor girl is crumbling."

I wish she would realise that I am crumbling too. 

Olga is always there to hold me, to calm me down, but as much as she tries, she can't understand what is going on with Elena. She doesn't know Elena, which I know is my fault. 

But Mami is angry with me, so is Alba. For good reason. 

And Mapi is my best friend, but she needs to be there for Elena. 

All I want to do is cry out for help, but I know I can not because I caused it. 

"I am taking Elena out this afternoon." Aitana speaks up from where she has been stood silently. "I will talk to her again, we will work on it. I'm going to go now, but Alexia, if you need to, you can talk to any one of us."

I nod at her, trying to muster a smile onto my face as she walks back into the changing room. 

"Mapi, you are my best friend." 

She nods. 

"You will be honest?"

She nods again. 

"Do you think this is fixable? Do you think I've ruined my chance of ever getting my Lena back?" 

She rests her head on my shoulder. 

"I hope so. I miss seeing the smiles on both of your faces and truthfully, I don't think that Elena will thrive here if she keeps going on like this. She needs support, from you, your Mami and your sister and I don't really think she is getting it."

"But Mami and Alba are there for her!" I find myself getting defensive of my family. 

"I know they are, but she needs more than that at the moment. She has been skipping school because nobody is home to tell her to go to it, she has been skipping meals because nobody is home to eat with her. She doesn't sleep properly, she doesn't eat properly. It is not your mother's fault that she has to work, or Alba's fault that Elena doesn't want to burden her, but she needs more support than she is getting." 

My brain is telling me that Mapi is wrong, that my sister is fine, that my family is fine. But in my heart, I know she is right. And it makes me feel sick. 

Because if it wasn't for me being such a terrible sister, such a terrible person, Elena would not be struggling so much. She would not need Mami or Alba as much as she does, she would be thriving in this environment. 

But she is not. 

The pressure is something I only really felt when I got older, when I had thicker skin. I had a force of people around me to fall back on, to get support from. But Elena has so much pressure building on her at 15, with less experience, with less people to support her. 

And the pressure will keep building and building on top of her, until it is so high that everything falls over, falling down on top of her until she breaks. 

As if reading my mind, Mapi continues after her pause. 

"And if she does crumble under all this pressure, she will need so much support. Aitana and I will be there for her, if nobody else is."

~~~~~~ hope you enjoyed :)

Will probably be back to elena's perspective next chapter, just thought it'd be easier to write this in a different one

[mysunshinetemptress]

Happily Ever after??

Leah Williamson x Jordan Nobbs x ChildWilliamson!Reader Warnings:Childhood Heartbreak

You don't know what to do, you don't know how to feel all you know is that your world has just ended, your older sister Leah and her long-term girlfriend Jordan have called time on their relationship and the mist of breaking each other's hearts with this conclusion they have also broken yours, your small ten-year-old heart.

The older girl's relationship has been going on the majority of your life, you don't remember a time without Jordan, Jordan your all-time best friend, Jordan who let you stay up just a bit later than Leah, who gave you chocolate on the weekdays, who picked you up from school, attended all of plays, all of your matches, who stood outside and helped you practice power shots in the pouring rain, who helped teach you how to ride a bike and made sure to be there for every birthday and Christmas was now gone.

Sure you could see her at Arsenal matches and talk afterwards but it wasn't the same.

Your older brother Jacob tells you it's been coming for a long time, that everyone knew it was going to happen, that they wouldn't last forever but you, you feel blindsided, they were the epitome of what love was, what love is supposed to be, how were you meant to fall in love and get married and live happily ever after if Leah and Jordan couldn't.

Leah had found herself seeking you out wanting to comfort you as well as comfort herself through the breakup, Leah knew how much you loved Jordan, how much she meant to you, and so she knew you wouldn't be dealing with the properly at all, how could you, you're ten.

What she wasn't expecting was for you to shut her out completely, for you to not want to talk to her, for you to want nothing to do with her.

"She doesn't understand Le." Leah sighed wrapping her hands around the warm mug "I know Mum but, what can I do." Amanda shrugged "She's heartbroken, she needs time to fix that, plus she feels torn." Leah looked at her mum confused "Torn." Amanda nodded "You're her big sister, she loves you, and adores you, but she also loves and adores Jordan and she feels like if she talks to or about Jordan she is being mean and upsetting you, and if she talks to or about you to Jordan she is being mean and upsetting Jordan."Leah felt her heart break at the thought of you feeling guilty for wanting to talk to Jordan, she had told Jordan amidst their break up that she wanted the pair of you to be just as close as you were.

Now Leah was seeing that it was easier said than done.

The days blurred together in a haze of sniffles and silent dinners. You retreated further into yourself, a fortress built from unspoken grief and a fractured picture of happily ever after. Leah tried everything – movie nights ended in tearful meltdowns at the slightest hint of romance, attempts at baking cookies were met with a slammed door to your room, even the promise of a brand new Arsenal jersey couldn't coax a smile.

Jacob, ever the pragmatist, tried a different approach. He'd barge into your room, not to pry, but to simply be a presence. He'd sprawl on the floor, launch into a ridiculous commentary of an imaginary football match, or share the latest embarrassing anecdote about a classmate. Sometimes, a flicker of a smile would peek through the cracks of your grief, a tiny spark of normalcy in the storm.

Today however was hard, your first match without Jordan, you played terribly unable to focus on the game at hand, your thoughts spiralling due to the older girl's absence.

You huddled under the covers, the sounds of the house muted by the thick cotton. Tears welled up again, blurring the image of the dusty Arsenal posters plastered on your wall. Leah had been right, seeing Jordan at Meadow Park wasn't the same. Sure, you'd chat, Jordan ruffling your hair with a strained smile, but the easy banter, the sleepovers with whispered secrets under fairy lights, those were gone.

Jacob's words echoed – "they wouldn't last forever." But forever was what you craved. Leah and Jordan were supposed to be the blueprint, the happily ever after you'd build your own love story on. Now, the blueprint was crumpled, tossed aside. Did that mean your own dreams were just as fragile?

Anger flickered, hot and unexpected. Maybe Leah didn't understand. Maybe no one did. They all expected you to "get over it," as if Jordan was just a stray sock, easily replaced. But Jordan wasn't a sock, she was a missing puzzle piece, leaving a gaping hole in your world.

A soft knock at the door startled you. It creaked open a sliver, revealing Leah's worried face. "Hey, can I come in?" she asked tentatively.

You hesitated. Talking meant acknowledging the gaping hole, the shattered dreams. But silence felt like a betrayal of the bond you shared. With a sigh, you mumbled, "Okay."

Leah crawled onto the bed, the familiar scent of her vanilla shampoo bringing a pang of comfort. She didn't try to talk, just sat there, a warm presence in the dim room. After a while, you found yourself reaching for her hand, the silence no longer a burden but a shared understanding.

"I miss her, Le," you whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Leah squeezed your hand. "I know, honey. I miss her too."

It wasn't the answer you wanted, but for the first time, you didn't feel alone in your grief.

Leah had made sure to keep her foot in the small crack of the door you had opened for her.

The weeks that followed were a slow dance of healing. Movie nights remained off-limits for a while, replaced by marathons of silly comedies Leah found on obscure streaming services. Baking sessions became a team effort, filled with flour-dusted giggles and the occasional mess that only siblings could create. The brand new Arsenal jersey remained folded on your chair, a silent promise for when you were ready to wear it with pride again.

Jacob's commentary continued, evolving from imaginary football matches to dramatic retellings of historical events, complete with him dressing up in mismatched clothes to portray the various characters. Sometimes you'd join in, adding your own witty remarks or mimicking the historical figures' accents, a flicker of your old self returning.

You had begun to get used to Jordan not showing up to your matches but today's match had been just as bad as the first one you had played without Jordan on the sidelines.

The final whistle blew, a harsh screech that echoed the hollowness in your chest. You slumped onto the bench, head hung low, the sting of defeat a dull ache compared to the gaping hole in your world. Your teammates, usually boisterous after a win (which this definitely wasn't), offered hesitant pats on the back, their usual celebratory whoops replaced with a quiet concern.

Jacob, ever perceptive, lingered at the edge of the field. He didn't push you to talk, just leaned against the fence, whistling a nonsensical tune you recognized from one of his childhood obsessions. As you started gathering your things, a familiar figure caught your eye across the field. Jordan, looking every bit as lost as you felt, stood awkwardly by the gate, a nervous energy radiating from her.

Suddenly, the anger that had been simmering beneath the surface threatened to boil over. How dare she show up now? Did she think a few stolen glances from across the field could erase the months of silence, the absence that gnawed at your insides? You clenched your fists, ready to storm off, when a warm hand touched your shoulder.

It was Leah. Her eyes, red-rimmed but determined, held a silent plea. "Give her a chance," she mouthed, a small, hopeful smile playing on her lips.

Hesitantly, you turned towards Jordan. The distance between you felt like an uncrossable chasm. But then, a memory surfaced: you, a wobbly mess on two wheels, Jordan running alongside, her laughter echoing in the air as you finally found your balance. A small tear escaped your eye, tracing a warm path down your cheek.

Taking a deep breath, you started walking. Slowly, tentatively, you closed the gap. You weren't sure what to say, how to navigate this new terrain, but you knew one thing – building walls wouldn't bring back the sunshine. As you reached Jordan, a single word tumbled from your lips, a question hanging in the air.

"Hi?"

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken emotions. Jordan scuffed her toe on the ground, mirroring your hesitation. Then, she spoke, her voice barely a whisper.

"Hey, Champ. I..." she faltered, searching for the right words. "I came to see how you were doing."

You looked up, surprised. You hadn't expected her to reach out, to apologize, to acknowledge the pain she'd caused. A flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but you quickly tamped it down. It was too early to trust again.

"I'm okay," you mumbled, kicking at a stray pebble.

It wasn't entirely true. You were far from okay, but you weren't sure how to explain the confusing mix of emotions swirling inside you: anger, sadness, a longing for the way things used to be.

Jordan saw through your facade. She knelt down, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Can we talk?" she asked softly.

You hesitated, glancing back at Leah, who stood by the fence, offering a silent nod of encouragement. With a shaky breath, you nodded back at Jordan.

Finding a quiet corner away from the prying eyes of your teammates, you sat down on a grassy knoll. Jordan sat beside you, her gaze fixed on the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and pink.

The conversation wasn't easy. Tears welled up in your eyes as you spoke of your disappointment, the feeling of being abandoned. Jordan listened patiently, her own voice thick with regret as she explained the complexities of the breakup, the reasons that had nothing to do with you.

Slowly, a bridge began to form between the chasm that had separated you. You learned that Jordan still cared about you deeply, that she missed your laughter, your company, your fierce determination on the football pitch. You realized that breakups weren't always about falling out of love, but sometimes about growing in different directions.

As the last rays of sunlight faded, you found yourself reaching for Jordan's hand. It wasn't the same easy camaraderie you once shared, but there was a tentative warmth, a flicker of hope for a new kind of relationship.

Walking back towards Leah, you felt a lightness in your step, a sense of closure you hadn't expected. The gaping hole in your world wasn't filled entirely, but the sharp edges had softened. You knew Jordan wouldn't be cheering you on from the sidelines every game anymore, but you also knew that the love and support of your sister and the lessons learned from this heartbreak would stay with you forever.

Weeks later you looked like your old self, and you weren't anxious about your future love life (That was years down the line, if Leah had anything to do with it.)

Leah was getting ready to leave for Meadow park when you pocked your head into her room.

"Can I come?" you asked hesitantly.

Leah's smile was brighter than the morning sun. "Of course you can," she said, ruffling your hair.

The game itself was a blur. You barely registered the score, your focus entirely on Jordan and Leah. After the final whistle, you stood awkwardly by your Mum's side, unsure of what to do. Then, you saw them, walking towards you with a hesitant smile. Together like old times.

"Hey, champ," Jordan said, ruffling your hair just like she used to.

You mumbled a greeting, your cheeks burning. For a moment, there was an awkward silence. Then, Jordan surprised you both.

"You know," she said, kneeling down to your eye level, "even though things are different with Leah and me, that doesn't mean we can't still be friends. After all, who else will help you practice those power shots in the pouring rain?"

A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Agreeing quietly, you felt the foundations of your world seeming to be formed and your heavy heart didn't feel so heavy anymore

[seulrinnie-rinrin]

Craving You

SUMMARY | When you accidently send a nude of yourself to Jongho, he can't help but look and start to crave you. The only thing standing in his way: your friendship. PAIRING | Jongho/Reader GENRE | non-idol!Jongho, friends to lovers trope, smut with no plot, protected sex (wrap it up everyone!), fingering, vaginal sex, RATING | Mature LENGTH | 5066 words AUTHOR’S NOTE | I’m such a sucker for the Friends to Lovers Trope lolol.

Jongho didn't mean to look.

But that picture you sent him was just so… You were looking at the camera like you'd never seen it before. Your cheeks were flushed and your skin was glowing in the light, as if it had never been more alive. And the fact that your fingers were grazing the top of your panties…

If that wasn't enough to turn any man's head, then nothing ever would be. He hadn't meant for this to happen—hadn't even intended on seeing it when he took a quick glance at his phone while checking his messages—but there it was, staring back at him, tempting him, teasing him with those dark eyes, and suddenly, he couldn't help but want it.

More than anything, Jongho wanted to see your body moving beneath him. Wanted to know what color you tasted like. What it felt like to touch every inch of you, slowly working his way down from your lips until he found himself between your legs. Then, after giving you everything he had to give, he would do whatever it took to make sure that you never forgot this moment, no matter how hard you tried to push it away.

Forbidden, because you're both supposed to be friends, and also because he should never want to take something that doesn't belong to him. But when he realizes that all of these things are exactly why he wants you so much, it becomes impossible to deny his true feelings for you.

He dropped his phone on the bed beside him and leaned against the headboard, trying desperately to think of something else besides the thought of running his tongue over the hot spot where your clit sat, letting his teeth gently graze its sensitive edges. If he could just get some sleep, maybe by morning, the desire would be gone. Or at least, the temptation. But the second he closed his eyes, all he could see was you: face flushed, thighs spread, red lips parted as he licked his way up from your clit to your mouth. All he could hear was your moans as he pushed his fingers inside of you, pumping them deep into your pussy and moaning as he watched your muscles tighten around them. All he could feel was the warmth radiating off of your naked body as he buried his face between your breasts, inhaling your scent until he had finally made you cum.

This was wrong, so very, very wrong. So, so, wrong. It wouldn't be right for either one of you.

His phone vibrated and he saw a text message from you come through, and though he really shouldn't read it, Jongho had a feeling that if he ignored it, it might not go away. Not that he knew what he would say anyway; all he knew was that he needed to talk to you about this, and he needed to do it now.

So he picked up his phone again and opened the message:

You - OMG Jongho! That picture wasn't meant for you! I swear, I totally meant to send it to Yunho. Please delete?!

His jaw clenched and he closed his eyes tightly. Of course you would have sent it to Yunho. Why wouldn't you? After all, the two of you were hooking up with each other. You told Jongho that it was no strings attached relationship, that Yunho just wanted to be friends with benefits.

But Jongho knew you. He knew that you were crushing on Yunho and had been for a long time. He also knew that the two of you didn't just hook up once or twice. No, you had hooked up a lot. Way more times than he cared to count. The two of you might have been dating, for all Jongho cared. You were lying to yourself if you believed otherwise.

Not that he was mad. Well, actually, yes, he was mad. But not at you. Mostly at himself for getting sucked into this. For allowing himself to fall for someone who had been nothing but his friends for years. But he was tired of fighting this attraction. Tired of pretending that it didn't exist. So, he turned off his phone and tossed it across the room, cursing silently as it hit the wall and bounced onto the floor.

Tomorrow, he decided, he would just ignore it. Ignore you. See if that helped. He hated to admit it, but his feelings for you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. They were there in the pit of his stomach every time you smiled at him, the blush rising in your cheeks whenever he looked at you too long, the way your voice trailed off when he asked you questions, and the small sparkle in your eyes whenever you looked at him like he was the best thing that had ever happened to you. He liked being close to you.

He sighed and picked up his phone, opening his messages and typing out a quick response:

Jongho - Out of sight and out of mind. I deleted it. Don't worry about it.

Then, he turned his phone off and put it back on the nightstand. He tried to fall asleep but the thought of you naked was already ingrained in his brain.

In your defense, you weren't entirely in your right mind when you sent Jongho that picture. You had meant to send it to Yunho but somehow managed to type in the wrong person's name, hitting send before you realized your mistake. It must have been the wine you drank earlier that day. Maybe it was the multiple glasses of wine that you had consumed throughout the night. Whatever the reason, by the time you figured out your error, the message was already sent. There was no taking it back.

And when you got Jongho's message saying that he deleted it, you felt a weight lift off of your shoulders. Just thinking about it made you sigh in relief, and when you woke up in the middle of the night with wet dreams about the two of you fucking, the guilt from sending that picture plagued you for hours.

"Ugh," you groaned, pulling the blankets over your head and ignoring the pounding in your head. "Just shut up."

Your head ached too much to care about your stupid hormones, so you rolled over and let yourself slip back into a restless slumber, hoping that when you woke up tomorrow, you would be able to forget about what you had done last night. Unfortunately, the thought that was playing on repeat in your mind refused to leave you alone, and soon, you were tossing and turning restlessly as images of you and Jongho romping together filled your thoughts.

"Shit!" you swore loudly as you sat up in bed, throwing your pillow to the ground. How could you think of your best friend in that way? You never had thoughts of Jongho that way before. Sure, you enjoyed hanging out with him, and there were days when you wished you could crawl into his lap and spend hours listening to him tell you stories or sing. You enjoyed teasing him mercilessly and getting to witness the smile on his face when you succeeded. But sexual fantasies involving him? Those were completely new territory.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" you cried, covering your face with your hands. God, you needed to get a grip. Maybe it's the alcohol. Yeah, it had to be the alcohol. Maybe you should call up Yunho and have him just fuck you senseless so that you forget about those fantasies of Jongho. Get it out of your system. Make yourself forget. Surely that would work. Right?

No, that wasn't going to work. Although it was an accident that you sent that nude, you couldn't help but think of what Jongho thought. Did he like it? Did he enjoy the view? Could he imagine what you looked like naked? Were his dreams filled with the two of you, pleasuring each other? Was he jerking off right now thinking about what it would be like to have your pussy wrapped around his-

Nononono. You needed to get a grip. You headed towards the shower, determined to rinse your body clean and pretend that last night never happened.

After a shower and exhausted beyond belief, you went about your day. You met up with the guys, wishing that Jongho wasn't there because you didn't want to crawl into an embarrassing hole. When they suggested that you have a few drinks with them, you gladly agreed, deciding to keep it casual. This was probably a good idea. A little drink here and there would probably take the edge off of those bad thoughts about your best friend.

"Something happened between you two?" Hongjoong asked as he looked over at you and Jongho. The both of you were sitting on opposite ends of the table, avoiding each other's gazes.

"Ya'll acting weird." Mingi muttered, leaning forward on the table. "The best friends aren't even sitting next to each other. Something happened, didn't it?"

"What happened?" San asked next to you, putting an arm around your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

You hesitated for a minute and let out a sigh, leaning to whisper in his ear. "I accidently sent Jongho a nude photo last night."

San froze for a second before dropping his hand from your shoulder and shaking his head in laughter. "No way. You're serious?"

You eyed Jongho, realizing that he got up to use the restroom. "I didn't mean to send it to him. I accidentally typed his name instead of Yunho's."

Hongjoong laughed softly, nodding his head. "Well, damn girl. I guess we know why he was looking so depressed today."

"Hush." You muttered, the rest of the table going into fits of laughter. You hid your face behind your hands, waiting for the laughing to die down before you explained the situation to everyone. When they finished laughing, you spoke. "Listen, this is just an unfortunate accident. He's already deleted it. We just need to get through this week, okay? I'm sure things will calm down after that."

"Yeah, don't worry," Wooyoung said, wiping tears from his eyes. "Things always get better after this."

They nodded their heads and when Jongho returned to the table, he just sat down and resumed talking with the others without acknowledging you.

You knew it would be okay by next week. You always had random fights with Jongho and it was usually resolved by next week. That's what friends did. They argued. They fought. Then, they made up and everything was fine again.

Why couldn't you just give him the benefit of the doubt this time?

Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, Jongho leaned back in his chair as he watched you joke with the rest of the guys. Your hair was wet, curling slightly under the lights of the bar as you shook your head in amusement. He stared at you for a while, wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through your hair. To kiss your forehead. To watch you sleep.

And then he snapped out of it.

Looking at you now, you appeared so happy and carefree, despite what had happened earlier. Jongho bit his lip as he stared at you, feeling his heart beat erratically against his chest. What the hell was happening to him? One minute, he had been angry at you and angry at himself for giving in to temptation and wanting you. Now, he couldn't stop staring at you and he didn't know how to act around you anymore.

"Are you going crazy?" Yunho asked him, as they both watched you in an animated conversation with Seonghwa and Yeosang.

"What?" Jongho blinked in surprise, having forgotten that Yunho was there. "No, I'm not going crazy."

"Sure you aren't." Yunho muttered. "Seeing any kind of nude of your best frien-"

"She was supposed to send it to you, you know?" Jongho cut in before his friend could say anything else. "She mixed up her names and sent it to me instead."

"It doesn't matter who she sent it to." Yunho shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like we're dating or anything. She could've sent it to anyone."

Wooyoung sighed. "Jongho, bro. Who cares who sent it to? Y/N isn't dating any of us. You ended up being the recipient. Things happen."

Hongjoong nodded, patting him on the back. "So who cares if you saw a nude picture of your best friend? Why does it bother you?"

"Because..." Jongho trailed off as he frowned, realizing that none of them really understood what he was going through. "I like her."

Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Yunho all exchanged glances before bursting into laughter.

"Well that changes everything." Hongjoong said, clapping his hands together. "So what are you gonna do?"

"About what?" Jongho shot him a confused glance, which caused the rest of them to burst into more laughter.

"Don't be dense," Yunho mumbled, holding his stomach as he wiped tears from his eyes. "Why don't you ask her out? Have a date with her? Show her how much you care?"

"I do care." Jongho replied softly. "A lot."

"But does she?" Wooyoung countered. "Does Y/N like you? Or does she only like you as a friend?"

Hongjoong slapped Wooyoung's arm. "Stop! Don't say that! We're trying to cheer Jongho up here, remember? Don't make it worse."

"Do you think I stand a chance?" Jongho whispered. "Will she actually agree to go out with me?"

Yunho smirked. "As long as you're willing to admit your feelings for her, I'm sure she'll agree to go out with you."

"Really?" Jongho asked hopefully.

Yunho gave him a nod. "I've seen how she looks at you. And hey, she talks about you all the time when we're together. Kind of made me jealous, if I'm being honest."

"I think I may have a shot." Jongho breathed out slowly, relieved.

"Go for it, man." Wooyoung added, smiling at him. "You deserve happiness. If Y/N makes you happy, you gotta grab it."

"We're rooting for you." Yunho smiled as he patted him on the back. "Remember, the worst thing that can happen is rejection."

Jongho nodded his head, understanding exactly what Yunho meant. While he desperately wanted Y/N to say yes, he also worried that she might turn him down. There was no way to prepare for such a thing, especially since they'd been best friends for so long. If Y/N turned him down, he'd hate himself for wanting her so badly, and he'd hate himself for doing something that would cause her pain.

No, he needed to stop worrying.

He glanced over at you again, watching you laugh with the rest of the group. Watching you made his heart flutter and the nerves that had settled in his stomach started to dissolve away. For some reason, seeing you smile and appear happy again made it easier for him to breathe.

Jongho took a deep breath and stood up, making his way over to where you were seated. Seeing you sitting with the rest of the guys, he wondered whether he should sit down or not. After what seemed like forever, Jongho took his seat across from you, his heart beating rapidly against his chest as he took in every detail about you, trying to memorize you.

"Jongho, you wouldn't believe this crazy story that Mingi was telling us." You exclaimed, taking a sip of your beer. "It sounds like something straight out of a soap opera."

"Oh yeah?" Jongho teased. "So, what's this ridiculous plot?"

"Hmm...well, basically..." Mingi began but Jongho drowned out his voice as he hesitantly reached for your hand. Taking your fingers in his own, he looked at you to see your reaction. After several seconds, you didn't pull away, allowing him to hold onto your hand. "The main character and the secondary characters meet and end up falling in love. It's full of drama and emotion and lots of crying and whining."

Jongho grinned, his entire body relaxing at the warmth radiating from your skin. "Is that how love stories normally go?"

"Pretty much." Mingi admitted. "I wish my love life could be like that though. No headaches or misunderstandings. Just love and happiness."

"Me too." Jongho breathed out, squeezing your hand gently.

Mingi, Yeosang, San, and Seonghwa couldn't help but notice the way Jongho was holding your hand. They all noticed the way his eyes kept wandering to yours and the way his expression was almost desperate. Even they couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he thinking about asking you out?

After several minutes, they gathered into a conversation, leaving you and Jongho out of it. But when they left to get more drinks, leaving the two of you alone, you found yourself leaning towards him, hoping that he would lean in too.

"Jongho?" You whispered softly. He turned his head to stare at you, your gaze locking onto his. "Can I ask you something?"

Jongho swallowed hard, unable to take his eyes off of you. He wanted nothing more than to drag you close and kiss you senseless. So he nodded, trying to find the words to say to you.

"What?"

"Did you...what were you thinking about...when I sent you that picture?" You looked at him, uncertainty in your eyes. He wished that you weren't looking at him with those sad eyes of yours. Those sad eyes made him want to make it all better.

"About what?" Jongho croaked out.

"Last night. When I sent you that picture by accident." You paused, placing your hand over his. "Were you thinking about me?"

Jongho looked down at your hand resting on his and then raised his gaze back up to your face. "Of course I was thinking about you. How could I not?" He placed his other hand over top of yours, intertwining your fingers together. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because I..." You took a deep breath, as you waited for him to reply. "We're friends and friends don't think of each other like that. Right?"

"Do you still want to be friends?" Jongho asked you, squeezing your hands. "Because I don't want our friendship to change because of this. Not when I...I want more."

"More?" You repeated softly.

"Yeah." Jongho closed his eyes tightly, unsure if you were going to agree to go out with him. "I want us to become more than just friends. After seeing that picture, my mind has been flooded with thoughts of you. Thoughts that friends shouldn't have of each other. Thoughts of kissing you and touching you and..."

He never got to finish speaking once he felt your lips on his. His entire body tingled as your lips pressed against his, causing a fire to burn within him. Without warning, Jongho crushed his mouth against yours, forcing your lips apart and claiming your lips with his own. His heart was racing, his mind consumed by the need to kiss you again. To feel your soft lips against his own, to feel the warmth of your body pressed against his. To feel the sparks that he knew were running between you.

"Yeah..." You breathed out. "I've had those thoughts too...of kissing you and touching you and..." Your voice drifted off, as Jongho captured your lips with his again. Your hands ran up his arms, sending chills throughout his body.

"God, my eyes. My poor eyes!" You heard Wooyoung gasp behind you. "Go get a room already!"

"Shut up!" You laughed loudly, pulling away from Jongho. Jongho let out a laugh, pulling you up from your seat so he could wrap his arms around you.

"Should we...go to my place now?" He whispered into your ear.

"Yes." You gasped.

"Ohhhh." San let out a laugh. "I knew this was going to happen."

Yeosang nodded next to him. "Ahhhh, young love. Too cute."

"Have fun, stay safe and use protection." Hongjoong called out, earning another round of laughter.

"Just shut up and leave us alone." You yelled back, giving them all a wave.

"Bye!" Mingi shouted, raising his glass in the air. "See you later!"

They all waved goodbye as you and Jongho hurried out of the lounge, weaving your way through the crowd. As soon as the doors closed behind you, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. He kissed you one more time before leading you out of the parking lot, heading towards his apartment.

"Home sweet home." He sighed happily, leading you inside and closing the door behind him. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him. "So where were we?"

"Kissing..." You breathed out, staring into his dark brown eyes.

Jongho chuckled, bringing his lips closer to yours. His entire body tingled at the mere thought of kissing you again. Of feeling your lips on his. Feeling the heat of your body pressed against his own. It was all he ever wanted. All he ever dreamed about. All he ever hoped for.

His lips brushed against yours lightly, barely grazing your mouth with his. He lingered there for several seconds before drawing back slightly.

"What thoughts did you have of me?" You ask him, breaking the silence.

Jongho smiled, reaching his free hand up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "Good ones." He whispered, trailing his finger along your cheek. "Thoughts of you lying naked in bed, letting me explore every inch of your body."

"And what else?" You purred, pushing your body against him.

"Ohhh..." Jongho moaned softly. "Those naughty thoughts of mine involve..."

He trailed off as you brought your hand up to his mouth, planting light kisses against his palm.

"Tell me." You breathed out, closing your eyes. "Please."

"I was thinking about what it would be like having you underneath me." He let out. "I was thinking about how good it would feel to feel your soft skin under my fingertips. How good it would feel to have you pressing against me, begging me to fill you with my cock. How hot and wet your pussy would be and how amazing it would feel to make you come."

"Yes." You moaned, grinding against him.

"Ohhh." Jongho groaned, pressing his lips against yours again. "I want you so bad."

You shivered, breaking away from his lips. "Me too. So much." You bit your lip. "I can't wait any longer."

Jongho nodded, moving towards his bedroom, leading you along the way. "Well, let's hurry up and do something about that." He murmured, pulling you closer to him as he pushed open the door.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Jongho wrapped his arms around you, trapping you against the wall. Leaning forward, he brought his lips back to yours, crushing his mouth against yours roughly. Your knees buckled slightly as he pressed himself against you, wrapping his arms tightly around you. Jongho broke away from your kiss long enough to rip your shirt open, throwing it aside.

"I can't wait anymore either." He breathed out. "I need to touch you. Need to feel your body pressed against mine. Want to taste your lips again."

Jongho's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before biting down gently. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as his mouth travelled downwards, nipping and sucking along your collarbone. His lips pressed harder against your skin, making your entire body tingle.

"God..." You moaned out. "Jongho..."

"Need to feel you underneath me." Jongho continued, bringing his hands up to cup your breasts. "God...you feel so fucking good against me."

"Don't stop." You breathed out.

He smiled as he reached his hands down to unhook your bra, throwing it aside. As soon as your breasts came into view, Jongho's lips immediately latched onto your nipple.

He sucked on your nipple gently, eliciting a moan from you. As he did this, he brought his hand up to caress your other breast. As he played with your nipples, you began to feel a familiar ache building within you. With a groan, you dug your nails into his shoulder blades.

"Are you okay?" Jongho asked you, worried about your reaction.

"Y-yeah." You answered quickly, biting your lip as your body became even more sensitive. "Just...just feels so good."

Jongho nodded, continuing to suckle on your breast while massaging your other one. His fingers moved across your chest, teasing the sides of your breast, slowly working their way up until they reached your chin. With a slight flick of his wrist, he tilted your head up towards him.

With one quick motion, he brought his lips to meet yours, his tongue darting past your lips to dance with yours. His fingers intertwined with yours, keeping them both locked in place as he began to trail his fingers down your body. One hand slid down to your stomach, tickling you softly.

The other hand found its way back up to your breast, pinching your nipple lightly as his thumb rolled it between his fingers. Your whole body tingled at the feeling of pleasure coursing through you.

Jongho pulled back slightly, taking a deep breath. "Do you want me to stop?" He asked you softly.

"No." You shook your head. "Don't stop."

He nodded, closing his eyes briefly before pulling his hand away. Reaching down, he slid your pants off your hips, allowing them to fall to the floor. "Like this?" He breathed out, leaning down to capture your lips with his once again.

You let out a moan as his fingers slipped between your legs, stroking you gently as his lips traveled down your neck. Once his lips met your chest, he nibbled on your skin lightly. You felt your body tighten slightly at the touch of his tongue as it traced your clavicle.

"God..." You breathed out, pushing yourself closer to him.

"Does it feel good?" He asked you, nibbling on your earlobe.

"Ohhh...so good." You moaned, running your fingers through his hair. "Fuck...please don't stop."

"Don't worry." Jongho promised, returning his attention to your neck. "This is just getting started."

With that said, Jongho slowly lifted his shirt over his head, tossing it aside. He then took his boxers off, leaving himself completely naked in front of you. He stood straight, facing you as you watched him intently. When he saw that you were looking at him, he placed his hands on your cheeks, tilting your face up towards his. His eyes bore into yours as he leaned down, capturing your lips with his once again. His fingers trailed down your cheek, cupping your jaw as he pulled you closer to him.

Once your lips parted, Jongho wasted no time deepening the kiss. Your fingers tangled themselves in his hair as he forced his tongue into your mouth. With each passing second, your passion grew, causing you to grab hold of his arms, gripping them tightly as he thrust his tongue against yours. Your entire body was now tingling with desire, begging for release.

Jongho broke away from the kiss, panting heavily as he looked into your eyes. He ran his hands down your thighs, parting them and then grabbing one of the condoms from his nightstand drawer. Opening the package, he sheathed himself with ease, preparing himself to enter you.

"Are you ready?" He breathed out.

"Mmm..." You breathed out. "Yes...please."

"Good." He replied before pressing his lips to yours once again.

With one final glance into your eyes, Jongho lowered himself down, positioning himself between your legs. He raised himself up slightly, pausing for a moment as he searched your eyes. Your fingers twined themselves into his hair as you waited patiently for him to move. After a few moments, he began to slide into you. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure throughout your body.

"Ahhh...." You moaned loudly, pressing your forehead against his shoulder.

Jongho hummed as he continued to thrust into you. Every movement caused a new wave of sensation to wash over you. You had never felt anything quite like it. You couldn't believe how incredible it felt. He brought his lips back to your ear, whispering softly.

"You feel so good." He moaned. "So damn good."

Your legs tightened around his hips as he began to speed up his movements. His lips grazed your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "Feels good, doesn't it?" He whispered, causing you to moan again.

"Jongho...oh god..." You breathed out, digging your fingernails into his shoulders.

Jongho closed his eyes, feeling the heat radiating from your body. He knew how badly you needed him. He knew that you were dying to come. And he could tell by the noises escaping your throat that you were close to climaxing. All he had to do was continue to pump his hips, slowly increasing the pace. In a matter of seconds, he would drive you over the edge. That thought alone made him harder than ever.

In response to the sound of his name coming from your lips, Jongho picked up the pace even further, pressing his lips firmly against your ear.

"Come for me, baby." He growled out, pushing even deeper into you. "Come hard for me."

With those words, Jongho's hips began to slam into you faster and faster. Soon enough, he felt your walls clamp down around his cock, holding him there, preventing him from pulling out. With another moan, he exploded inside of you, filling the condom with his semen. Once he finished, he pulled out of you, breathing heavily. Your eyes remained fixed on him, watching him as he pulled the used condom off of his cock. He tossed it to the side before lowering himself to the mattress beside you.

You flipped him over, moving to straddle him as you kissed him deeply. As you did this, you could feel his hardening cock beneath you. You smirked, bringing your lips back to his ear.

"Guess we're not done yet." You whispered seductively. "I'll let you fuck me raw if you keep going."

With a grin, Jongho grabbed your ass, squeezing it tightly as he slid into you. "Whatever you want, baby. Anything you want."

[soobnny]

invisible string theory — yang jungwon. acquaintances to lovers. high school au. slice of life.

inspired by that one line from glue song, “you’ve been hiding in plain sight, then appeared” (2.6k words)

The problem with having 60 students per classroom is you were bound to make a stranger to at least thirty of them. And for someone who doesn’t talk much, it was like meeting half of your classmates for the first time every morning.

You kept close to your circle of friends, just like everyone else did, and kept in mind where to make eye contact when your homeroom teacher announces a group activity. You liked working with the same group of people, so you held a pretty stable and balanced routine at school. Always sitting at the same seat, always staying in the classroom with your packed lunch during break time, and always riding the same train home. 

Though, from time to time, a few anomalies would pose themselves to your perfectly lined scheduled—the rain always increased the time it would take to get to school, a predetermined group stands as a barrier between the people you know you work well with, and apparently Mr. Snuffles and his paws that had messed up your alarm clock. The culprit lays on your bed as you hurriedly rush around your room to get to school in time. You’re sure you could make it if the station followed the schedule of when the trains would depart. Preparing your lunch, however, would be impossible, and you would just have to stop by a convenience store before attending homeroom.

You disliked the canteen. Students lived off of crowds, an impossibly long line, and an even poorer selection of food than what you can find in a convenience store. It would take half of your break just to get food, and the rest of the half eating. It’s better when you can hold time in your hands in the classroom. 

Opening the door to the convenience store, it was almost a relief to find it almost empty, save for a few students who were probably either getting breakfast, lunch, or a snack. When it was your turn to have your meal checked out, it takes you about 10 seconds to realize you might’ve left your wallet at home. And it takes even faster to confirm when you rummage through your bag and come out empty-handed. 

Damn you, Mr. Snuffles. 

You realize you didn’t spare the time to double check your bag when your sister had borrowed it over the weekend and probably put some of your essentials out. 

Burden raced and dropped down your shoulders as you struggled to explain to the cashier if she could disregard scanning it in the first place. Though, you aren’t given ample time to get your thoughts across when money is handed to her from next to you. 

He looks familiar, the boy with the short and a little disheveled hair. It looks pretty, falling over his forehead, like he came off a 90s magazine. He gives you a look, enigmatic almost, though smiling as he puts his wallet back in his bag. 

“Thank you.” You spoke shyly, though he only grins, showing off his perfect white teeth.

“You’re (Name), right? I’m Jungwon, we’re in the same class.” 

So that’s why he looked familiar. The only thing you knew about him was that he had a dog, had introduced him on the first day of class with a photo. Everything else, you learned from those around you; he was smart, taking most of the offered advanced subjects, he had multiple senior friends whom he eats with at the canteen, and he was apparently a great dancer. 

“Ohh, I knew you looked familiar.” Your mouth parts in recognition. “Thanks again for saving my ass back there. My cat had messed up my alarm and I left my wallet so today’s just been a disaster so far.” You laugh a little at the tangent your schedule had gone off to. 

“You have a cat?” Jungwon’s eyes light up, and you instantly pull out your phone to show him a picture. “This is Mr. Snuffles.” 

“Mr. Snuffles.” He repeats softly, smiling down at your phone as he shows you his own lockscreen. 

“Now I feel inclined to introduce Maeumi.” 

“Your Maltese puppy, right?” He watches as you dip your head down to look at his phone, grin spread out prettily as you coo quietly. 

“How’d you know?” 

“You introduced him back during first day, I think.” Jungwon looks genuinely surprised that you remember, mouth dropping before he nods his head with the same soft smile on his lips. 

“Well, since we’re heading the same way, do you wanna walk together?” 

For an answer, you grin up at him and say a brisk “sure”, matching your footsteps with his as you walk up the stairs of your school together. 

Conversation flies easy with Jungwon, almost too easy as you talk for the entirety of the short walk to your classroom. You discuss about your poorly functioning lockers, your plans for the upcoming Christmas break, and complain alike about the multitude of projects assigned to you for the first half of the school year. 

“How’s your Biology project holding up?” The instant groan that leaves your lips triggers a laugh from Jungwon. Though, he should’ve been able to predict your reaction after previously just complaining about Ms. Hwang and her 20-page paper about cell division. 

“I swear my head’s gonna explode if I read one more article about mitosis and meiosis.” 

You whine as you walk through another flight of stairs, and his laughter continues to mix with your light-hearted complaints. 

“No, same. My eyes were falling out while I was working on page 12 yesterday.” Jungwon’s hand brushes against yours as a group of students run by you, pressing his shoulder against yours and holding out an arm to make sure they don’t bump into you. 

“Well, they look like they were in a hurry.” He only chuckles before peeling himself away from you. He gives you his full attention. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” You laugh, and he smiles at the confirmation. 

“I can’t believe this is the first time we’re actually talking.” There’s disbelief in his tone as he pushes the doors to your homeroom open. “This was fun.” 

“I’ll pay you back tomorrow!”

“There’s really no need.”

The bell interrupts your conversation, and you walk to your respective seats just as your homeroom teacher slips into the classroom. 

+

You don’t meet Jungwon for another month.

After that conversation, you had both returned to the routines you had set for yourselves, and you go back to treating that day as a single anomaly in your perfectly curated schedule. Though, now you find your ears perk up at the slightest mention of his name. 

Similarly, Sunoo’s confused by his friend’s sudden interest when your name had slipped past his mouth. It was something Sunoo had said in the passing, you were simply a side character in the story he’s narrating, yet Jungwon seems to put an awful amount of attention to that part of his story.

“Are you even listening to me?” A whine leaves Sunoo’s lips.

“Yeah, sorry. I didn’t know you were in the same club as (Name).” 

“You know her?”

“Yeah… well not really. She’s my classmate, but we aren’t close.” 

“Sounds to me like you have a crush.” He smirks, taking a bite out of his lunch before looking at Jungwon with an accusing eye. 

“I do not have a crush. I was just asking!” Defensive. Just like he always is when he’s getting caught for lying. Jungwon knows better than to hide something from Sunoo. 

“I literally just said (Name) passed me a paintbrush and you’re acting like she’s the main character of my story which, by the way, is ME.” 

“I don’t have a crush.” Jungwon grumbles. 

“Look, there she is right now.” 

Jungwon’s head whips at an impossible rate, an impressive distance over time that Isaac Newton might as well have made a fourth law of motion. His head is craned, scanning over the cafeteria in search of you before a pin drops in his head and he turns back in shame at having been fooled by Kim Sunoo of all people. 

Sunoo laughs, and Jungwon drops his head on the cafeteria table in embarrassment. “Wipe that stupid smile off your face.” 

Though, despite Jungwon’s sudden interest, it still takes almost thirty days after your chance encounter for you to meet again at the same convenience store. It was another day to grab a small breakfast from the quaint store, and it looks like you had the same idea when the bell rings and Jungwon spots you already in line. 

“Do you mind if I could wait in line with you? It’s getting pretty long.” 

Your head turns at the sudden voice. Soft tones as always. 

“Jungwon, hi! Sure.” You allow him to stand with you in line, and he curiously peeks down at the meal in your hands. The same lunch bowl from a month ago. “Don’t you eat lunch in the classroom? Did Mr. Snuffles do something again?”

“You can say that.” You chuckle. It’s endearing that he remembers. 

And just like a month ago, you walk to class together. He waits for you by the door, only resuming his walk when you’ve caught up to him. “So the Biology paper?” 

His eyes flicker to you when you laugh.

“Almost done, finally.” 

“So, your head didn’t explode?”

“Thankfully not. I think I have Mr. Snuffles to thank for that. He enjoys just putting a paw on my hand as I work, though he is quite distracting. We even got him this little laptop toy so he’d stop stepping on mine.” 

Jungwon smiles. “I’ve read about that somewhere, how cats imitate what you do or somewhere along those lines.”

“Does Maeumi do anything silly like that?”

“Well, it might’ve actually been my fault.” He holds onto the paper bag with your meals, fiddling with the paper. “I thought it would be cool to teach him to get the newspaper by walking her to the door and giving her a treat when she’d carry it back. Long story short, one morning, I found every paper from the street.” 

You shake when you laugh, it’s something Jungwon has noticed. It’s breathy and full as you picture it in your head, and Jungwon brightens up at being able to make you laugh.

That morning, you learn of Jungwon’s own routine, just like you. Every morning, he walks to school and accompanies some kids from his neighborhood, dropping them off at the preschool before heading to school. It’s why he doesn’t have time to eat breakfast at home. He plays with Maeumi a little bit too, running around with her in the sun despite having just woken up. At school, he sits at the front and minds his own business, and he eats at the cafeteria to accompany his friends. It’s the only free time they share together.

It’s nice talking to him. You think it might be the first time in a while that you’re talking to someone outside your small circle, and it’s a little refreshing to be offered a fresh sight of the world around you. He thinks differently, the type of person that has something to offer for your personal growth, the type that casts a life-long impression.

So, as you near your classroom, your shoulders drop at having to say goodbye to him again.

You think it’ll take another thirty days to talk to him, but it turns out, as insane as Ms. Hwang is, you might owe a bit to her for pairing you and Jungwon up to do an errand for her. It’s something about the coming Science Camp your school holds, and the need to get signatures from a few teachers. You don’t know why she’s letting two high school students do her job for her, but you comply because you have no choice. 

“The school always plans disastrous events. I remember our Freshman day, when they let us play those games, that was a whole thing in itself.” You mumble, holding onto the piece of paper and scanning over the list of faculty offices you have to visit. So far, you’ve successfully gotten five signatures out of twelve.

“I remember that! I played in the balloon game, and I was partnered up with a girl. My friends did not stop teasing me for weeks.” 

“Wait, I played in the balloon game too.” You look up at him, eyes bright as you recall the memory.

“Don’t tell me.” 

“Were you wearing a black shirt?”

“I was! What the hell!” He pulls out his phone to look for a photo of that day, scrolling through his phone before shoving the screen to your face. “That’s me!” 

“Oh my god.” 

You lock your eyes to his, and the two of you fall in shared laughter at the chances. You would’ve guessed the possibility falls at less than 1% considering the amount of freshmen students at the time, and the thought that Jungwon had been tied to you by some invisible string on that day is something so enchanting. 

As if, since that day, you’d been tied together and were slowly inching closer and closer until this very moment years later. 

“I can’t believe it was you! My friends couldn’t let me catch a break when I caught you before you could fall face flat.” 

“Look, I’m not the most coordinated person. You put me in a game where people are out to pop the balloon tied around my ankle and you’re basically asking me to fall over my own feet.” 

“But we won, didn’t we? Wasn’t I a good protector?”

“You were alright.” You tease, and he gasps dramatically in response.

“Go ask for the rest of the signatures by yourself.”

“I was kidding! I was kidding! You were the greatest protector of them all, I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.” Jungwon smirks, though, he feels like he’s about to melt in a puddle. 

“That’s better.”

The rest of the time gathering signatures are spent in conversation and laughter. Jungwon would’ve hated staying behind to do more work, would’ve complained about it in the group chat with his friends, but he finds himself enjoying it because he’s with you. It would’ve been hell if it wasn’t with you. 

“I can’t believe we’ve talked more this past month than the last couple years.” You hold onto the straps of your backpack as you leave school together. The sun is starting to set, and the impatient moon peeks from afar. 

Jungwon is almost open-mouthed when the sun hits your face like that. When you look back at him because he’s suddenly falling behind, eyebrow lifted with a smile on your face. He’s sure you know your hypnotizing effect, and you still have the nerve to act oblivious about it. 

He takes a step closer. 

“Do you maybe wanna grab a bite? It’s getting late, and I’m a little hungry.” His words come out hitched, and he’s punching himself over the very obvious nervousness in his voice–as if the way he looks at you isn’t obvious enough to how he feels.

“I’d like that.”

A few months later, Jungwon would ask you to be his and Mr. Snuffles would get all the treats he could possibly want for altering the course of your routine and allowing you to bump into Jungwon. 

+ 

“Babe, you seriously need to stop leaving your wallet. I’m starting to think this is all a ploy so I’ll keep paying for your meals.”

“Sorry.” You smile sheepishly. 

“I was kidding. I may have lost a couple won, but I got you out of it.”

“Are you telling me I’m worth just a couple won?”

“What? No, wait! That’s not what I meant!”

[athena-studios]

ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.

treasure.

Simon Riley + preteen!daughter

tw: none(?)

a/n: im basically writing what i wanna read. honorary mention to @chaosandmarigolds for giving a bit o' help:) pretty long, don't know how many words but probably around 1k?

this idea has been in my head for AGES now, so glad i finally wrote it💗

Simon's girlfriend died. the 141 knew that. his girlfriend died that night along with the rest of his family. except for his one singular gem that he treasures the most. you, his daughter that the killers that night did not see nor hear because you were at the neighbor's house. that was when you were 5 years old, since then, Simon has done everything in his power to protect you. even as far as not telling anyone but Laswell about you.

you're now 12 years old. having gone through alot already, you're more mature and sassy than most of your peers. which leads you to this situation...

˚୨୧ ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 . 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ ✧ . ˖˳

you were on the couch with your laptop open when you hear a knock. you walk to the door and open it to be greeted with three bulky men, one looking seemingly older than the other two.

the one on the middle has a...Fishers hat? he also has a beard, which is, what you assume, makes him appear older. "this dude could be a grandpa..." you thought.

the one to your left has a weird mohawk. yeah, thats all you can say about him. the one on the other side looks more tolerable, but his cap does wanna make you laugh your ass in front of him for it.

"Hi, who are you?" the grandp— the one in the middle asks. "I'm sorry, shouldn't i be asking you that? there are three, large, bulky men on my doorstep. none of which who are familiar to me." you replied, in your sassy voice, ofcourse.

your dad told you not to talk to strangers, they're strangers, aren't they?

"sorry—I'm Johnny, but i prefer to be called soap. this is John and Kyle. now can we know what yer name is, bonnie?" Johnny speaks up. you scoff. "fine. its y/n. y/n riley. that's all I'm telling you. and what the hell kinda name is soap?"

at that, the three of them glance at eachother in both shock and confusion. "what?" you ask. "your last name's Riley?" Gaz asks. "yeah, what about it?" you cross your arms, getting slightly defensive.

behind their back, you see your dad's truck pull up the driveway, the three men in front of you also noticing. you speed-walk to your dad and point to the three men. "Dad, these guys are tryin' to kidnap me." you say nonchalantly. he looks behind you and sees his captain and his two sergeants. "honey, they weren't tryna kidnap you. those guys are my teammates." he says as he walks to the trunk of the car and hands you two grocery bags. "now, bring these inside and I'll talk to 'em. 'kay?" he pats you head as you nod, walking back to the house.

"so, simon. when were ya gon' tell us ye got a daughter?" soap's scottish accent rings out. they glance at simon's balaclava-less face, because they don't usually see him without that damn balaclava, but also because they await a response from him. "to keep her safe...only Laswell knows abou' her. she's the only thing i have left. my treasure." simon clears his throat to ease the silence. "so, why are you guys 'ere anyway?" simon asks.

"i actually came here to ask for advice, and then i saw soap already standing at your door, saying something about a teatime catch-up? but anyway, he called price over, faking that your pipe was broken. and when he came up, we knocked on your door and y/n answered it." as gaz finishes his explanation, you walk back out the door. "so...are you all gonna come in or not? because i didn't stop binge watching heartstopper on netflix for nothing." you say as you chew on a french fry Simon had got for you, per your request.

they all walk in, and take a seat on the couch, Simon quickly preparing drinks for them. as Simon takes a seat next to you, Price speaks up. "so y/n, how old are you?"

"I'm 12." you answer blatantly. "y/n, be nice." your dad whispers to you. "you got any hobbies?" Soap tries to make conversation.

you playfully glare at your dad before answering soap. "i like to play the guitar, i like to paint, and crochet sometimes." you answer again, trying to put a less boring tone to your voice.

it goes like this for a few minutes, everyone just exchanging laughs and conversation. maybe they're not so bad after all...

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 1 - DBDA Week

Day 1 of Dead Boy Detectives Appreciation Week: 10th-16th June by @dbdcentral

Prompt: Things Unsaid

Relationships: Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Payne&Crystal Palace&Charles Rowland

Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff

TW: None

--

“Since this seems to be continuing,” Edwin said while motioning between him and Charles with his free hand. “I think I should tell you about what happened with the Cat King.”

Charles grimaced for a moment, before nodding encouragingly. Even if he appreciated the attempt at understanding silence, Edwin could practically hear the ‘so something did happen!’ in his eyes.

“He, well…” Edwin knew it had been his own conscious decision to start that particular conversation, but now that it was time to actually say the words, he couldn't find them. He exhaled a breath he didn't need. “He did try to get frisky with me.” He went for, remembering the word Charles had used at the time to describe the… ordeal.

“I knew it, that bastard,” Charles was moving to get up from the couch, to do what exactly, Edwin didn't know. It had been almost three years since the events of Port Townsend, it wouldn't make any sense for him to go there and find the Cat King after so long. 

Edwin pulled with his left hand, where his fingers were already loosely entwined with Charles’, effectively stopping him from whatever revenge plan he was concocting.

“Nothing happened,” Edwin continued, his voice soft. “And it was nothing… non-consensual.” The words felt weird on his tongue, even if he knew he was using them correctly in the context, and it was the best way to convey the message without risk of misunderstandings.

Charles swallowed hard. “Does that mean you wanted something to happen?”

“I don’t think I knew what I wanted. It took me by surprise, because I thought those kinds of desires were never to be acknowledged. And seeing him touching me so carelessly, so freely. That was…” This time, Edwin wasn't sure what the right word could be. After some consideration, he ended with “interesting”.

“Hmm.”

Edwin tightened his grip on Charles’ fingers again. “You have nothing to worry about, I have never thought about him in that way since we left Port Townsend, and especially since, well… you know.”

It didn't seem to be enough for Charles, as he was still looking uneasy, insecure. Edwin wouldn't have it. A couple of months prior, he would never have dared to admit that to himself, let alone out loud, but considering how they were sitting across one another on the couch with their legs intertwined and Charles’ hand was caressing his knee with the same familiarity with which he would lean on his own, he felt a surge of boldness he had never thought he had in him and admitted:

“Now all of my fantasies are about you.”

Charles went incredibly still, his eyes lost focus, his hands froze in place.

“Is… something wrong?” Edwin tried to ask. He thought about moving away to give him some space, wondering if maybe he had gone too far with the implication. They had kissed multiple times but they had never talked about anything more physical. He didn’t know what to make of Charles’ reaction.

Before he could decide on a course of action, Crystal slammed the office door open.

She took a long look at the scene in front of her, then her gaze stopped pointedly on Edwin. “What happened? How did you break him?”

“I just said-” Edwin started explaining, but was brutally interrupted by Charles, who had finally found his voice back.

“It's nothing, I just needed a moment. You know, there's another case with an abusive father.” He said, like those words explained everything. 

It had the desired effect, Edwin thought, because Crystal stopped the interrogation immediately, and draped herself over Charles - and consequently over Edwin’s legs, much to his disapproval - to comfort him.

Of course, Charles’ words did explain everything, or they would have, except there was no abusive father, and no case.

Edwin untangled himself from the other two trying not to push Crystal on the ground while doing so, and moved to look out the window.

After a while, when she decided Charles looked comfortable enough, Crystal followed him and sat at his desk. Edwin almost hated to admit to himself that nothing about the situation was bothering him: not Crystal hugging Charles, nor her taking his usual place at the desk. She was that much part of the agency that he trusted her completely, almost the same way he trusted Charles. Even if, of course, the relationships between the three of them had considerably shifted during the years.

It wasn’t until a day later that Charles and Edwin had a chance to be alone again, and Edwin was determined to keep asking questions until he understood exactly what had happened to Charles. He was in “full stubborn research mode”, as Crystal used to call it.

There was no need, though, because Charles started speaking as soon as they passed through the door:

“I’m sorry about… Making up a case yesterday, I was worried you would tell Crystal the truth.” He chuckled.

“I wouldn't have said exactly the same thing I said to you.”

“Yes, you would have.” Charles continued, his smile turning more affectionate. Edwin had to admit that he was probably right. He had just been so confused and maybe Crystal could help him understand.

“Did it upset you?” He asked. “What I said?”

Charles shook his head. “No, of course not, it was just… Unexpected.” He moved closer, encircling Edwin's waist with his arms, so close their noses were brushing against each other.

“Why? You didn't think that I could want-”

Before he could finish the sentence, Charles pressed a small kiss on his lips, effectively shutting it. He stepped away then, looking decidedly lighter than he had the previous day. “No, I just didn't expect you to be able to say it so… what word did you use? Freely.”

Charles grinned, and slumped on the couch, patting the place next to him in invitation. It was so easy to slot into Charles’ arms, resting his head on his shoulder, and entwining their hands. It almost seemed like they had done nothing else for forty years, instead of just a few months.

“What about before the Cat King?” Charles asked when they were settled, Edwin’s fingers playing with the hem of Charles’ sleeve. “Have you ever thought about us… Shagging?”

“No, I would never have dared to even dream of it.”

Charles moved a hand up his arm and to the back of his neck, his fingers playing with the shorter hair at Edwin's nape.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that now,” he said after a while. “But I would like it too, one day.”

Edwin smiled, turning to nuzzle Charles' neck and pressing a kiss there at the base of his jaw. “Whenever you are ready, I will be here. We have literally forever to figure it out.”

[angstywaifu]

Take A Chance - Brennan Sorrengail

Part 2 to Love Doesn't Suit You Requests Open.

Masterlist

My eye lids feel heavy. Gods my entire body feels heavy. It’s like I’m wadding through water to even try to open my eyes. When I finally do, I’m met with a dimly lit room. The mage light above my head barely emitting light. And judging by the slight coolness to the room it must be night time. Then the smell hits me. The infirmary.

I was alive. Somehow I was alive. But I shouldn’t be. There was no way to get me to a healer or mender in time. I should have died in the training room. Should have bled out on the floor. And yet here I was, lying in the infirmary alive. No pain. Nothing. A sniffle draws my attention to a chair pulled up next to my bed. The occupant leaning forward with their elbows on their knees as they stare at the floor, one of their hands clasped firmly around mine. Brennan. Brennan who is crying. Brennan who I’ve never seen cry a day in my life.

”Bren?” I say, the words barely audible due to how hoarse my throat was.

Brennan's head snaps up at the sound of my voice, his eyes puffy and red from crying. His amber eyes are still filled with tears. For a few moments, all he does is stare at me, as if he can't believe I've woken up.

”What are you doing here?” I ask him, my voice shaking as those damn words echo in my head again.

”Y-you almost died. You were bleeding out in my arms.” His voice cracking slightly. “I… I thought I lost you. I should have lost you.”

I look down at his hands still clasped firmly around mine, noticing the slight tinge of red to his skin. Blood. My blood. He was the one I heard screaming my name as I fell to the ground bleeding out. The one to pull me into their arms before I blacked out. I should have died in his arms.

”How?” I ask, looking up into his pained eyes.

He drops his gaze from mine, letting out a shaky breath as he squeezes my hand. “My signet.”

But Brennan didn’t have a…. He’d manifested his signet because of me. I reach down and pull the sheet back revealing my exposed stomach. Where there should be long gaping wound, is smooth skin. No sign of the knife that had cut me open. There was only one signet that could make that possible. Brennan was a mender.

”Thank you.” I say softly as I place the sheet back down.

”I’m sorry about yesterday.” His voice so quiet I barely hear it as I look back at him.

”You weren’t wrong though. Love and me don’t go together.” I say bitterly as I remove my hands from his.

A pained look quickly flickering in Brennan’s features as I remove my hands from his. “I just….. I just thought we we’re going somewhere. That you might finally give me a chance after all these years of whatever this is.”

He wasn’t wrong. I wanted to be with him so badly. Everything about Brennan drove me crazy. I wanted his eyes on me, his hands on me, wanted to be his. But I couldn’t. I had seen first hand what came from two dragon riders being together. My parents. My very dead parents. Both gone, leaving me behind.

”I… I can’t deny it’s something I want. But we both know what being a dragon rider is like. Any day could be our last and… I don’t know if I could cope with losing someone close to me again. It’s just easier this way.”

”Easier?” My eyes snapping back to him at the anger in his tone. “It’s easier for you to just keep screwing other people than it is to just take the leap and actually be in a relationship?”

”Yes Brennan. Because if I get attached and you die……” Lies. I was already attached. A tear rolls down my face as I look down, quickly trying to wipe it away before Brennan sees. “I have my reasons. Just because it’s easier doesn’t make it easy.”

Brennan scoffs as he shakes his head, pushing up from the chair, his eyes staring down at me. “You’re a coward. You’d rather push away people that care about you so you don’t have to suffer.:

I pull back the sheets, standing up to face Brennan. Fresh tears rolling down my face.

”You don’t know what I’ve been through. Watching an entire family of dragon riders die, till I was the only one left. Till no one came home. Sorry if I’m protecting myself. But I know I can’t go through someone I care about not coming home again.”

Brennan and I just stare at each other. Brennan’s breathing slow and deep as if trying to compose himself. I’d never seen Brennan like this before. Never seen someone push him to this point before. Brennan was always the level headed calm one. But not now.

”You’re right. I don’t know what its like to live like that. But you’ll stand there, and call that protecting yourself? You know as well as I do you’re just afraid. You’re afraid you don’t deserve to be happy. That’s the real issue here.”

”Because I don’t Brennan! Anyone I’ve been close to, anyone I’ve let myself love has died. I don’t deserve to be happy.”

Brennan shakes his head, stepping towards me. Taking one of my hands in his. “That’s not true. None of it is.” He sighs. “Please, don’t do this. Don’t push me away.”

I reach up with my free hand, placing it on his chest. A war ragging inside my head if I should push him away or not. If I did push him away… There was no going back. If I did that would be it. We’d had this argument before, but never like this. Beneath my hand I can feel his heart beating heavily. Just like my own.

”And what if I don’t push you away?” I ask softly.

He places his hand on top of mine. “Don’t push me away. Give this a chance. Give us a chance. Give this a chance knowing I will do what ever I can to get back to you every night.” His voice almost pleading.

I step forward, a small smile on my lips, my heart beating heavily in my chest. Absolutely terrified of what I’m about to do. There was no going back from this. I take another step forward, barely any space between Brennan and I, having to crane my neck to look him in the eye.

”Then I won’t. I won’t push you away.”

Brennan’s shoulders sag at my words, letting out a breath I don’t think he realised he was holding in. His hands moving to cup my cheeks. “Then prove it.” He whispers, his thumb gently rubbing across my cheek.

I’d kissed Brennan many times before. But as I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him down into a kiss….. It feels different. My heart beating fast, as if this was the first time we’d kissed. But even though this wasn’t the first time we had kissed, this was our first real kiss. Not as friends hooking up. No. We we’re more now. I wouldn’t push Brennan away anymore.

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (epilogue hehe)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Demon!Ren and Angel!Angel my otp!!! I think saying I won't write anymore compels me to write more somehow................... sowwee I just keep lying :3c

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

💜🖤💜🖤💜🖤

Moonlight gleamed on the gentle waves pushing back and forth to meet the shore. You sat at the water’s edge with your lover, legs curled under you to lean against his side, your fingers drawing shapes in the wet sand that only lived a few fleeting seconds, then washed away in the water's wake. 

The blue eyed demon kept an arm around you for warmth. You still felt cold, sometimes even during the day. It bothered him more than you. Ren silently watched you etch shapes, though they didn't pay as much attention as usual. He was lost in thought.

Almost a year had gone by since the dreaded night that wouldn't leave their mind in peace, when heaven had burned away all you’d ever known without a care for the loneliness you felt afterwards. A nightmare that was sure to stain decades of eternity with you. Centuries past his own damned fall from heaven's gate, they still found a way to punish him.

Your heart healed quickly with his doting and comfort, but the physical scars remained. Each morning was a glimpse of heaven and hell. He was always awake before you, but to ever leave your side would pain them like nothing else. So he waited. You'd open your eyes, smile at him as if he was the paradise you'd treasured dearly—how could you still choose to grace a monster like them with your sacred beauty? Your presence? Your love?—then crawl from the sheets to stretch and start your day. 

The two jagged streaks of seared flesh on your back greeted him like a cruelly blinding sunrise. He could only wonder where everything went wrong.

He hadn’t meant for it to happen so soon. Your fated fallen angel had already waited millennia to meet you again, and he was intent on waiting infinitely more until you were ready. Because they knew you’d eventually come to desire him, to yearn for their embrace above all others. But you’d fallen—both in love and divinity—faster than he dared to wish for. Nevermind a thousand years, you were taken with him in barely a day, even if it took you much longer to realize the gaze you set upon him in the setting sun was more than just curiosity. 

It must have been destiny’s twisted attempt at design. He didn’t expect you that day in heaven’s library, but they were meant to belong to you from the moment— 

“Ren,” you spoke as softly as the ocean’s gentle breeze. Still, they heard you loud and clear through the muddled sea of their mind. You were the only being who could ever pull him ashore. Or astray. 

“Yes, little angel?” he answered. The nickname burned in his heart to use now, but the way your eyes glittered with love like the moon and stars above when they said it… he yearned for that happiness to last as long as it could.

“Did I spell it right?” He cast his gaze to where you pointed. Just out of the crawling reach of lapping waves, you’d written something in the starlit sand.

They’d written your name thousands, maybe even millions of times over and over to keep him sane enough to find his only solace in you. Seeing it here, finally in your own handwriting was something else entirely. He’d commit it to memory.

“Exactly right,” Ren smiled down at your handiwork and leaned over to write the three letters of his name under yours. They were all he could remember of the real name heaven had stolen away. Though it’d been so long that he wasn’t even sure if they were correct.

You stared for a moment, then drummed your fingers on your thigh. “Your real one was certainly longer than this,” you muttered to yourself. 

Your companion absently nodded, those innocent words haunting him with another memory. He’d spilled his heart out months ago in a moment of weakness, one morning when the sight of your scars broke him. About the real first time you met, his own fall from grace, his sinful intentions to take you with him some day. Everything that he feared would make you hate him. It was a way to punish himself further. Heaven’s permanent reminder wasn’t enough—but you forgave everything with ease like the angel you truly were. 

I’d go through it all again if it meant you’d be mine, you told him. As if it was a simple choice. You were more upset to hear that you couldn’t call his true name. That worthless excuse of a god had made a mistake to let you go—one Ren would never even think to make.

The demon had developed an odd habit of brooding. You kissed his cheek to get his attention, one hand lacing through theirs. “Ren, there’s nothing to worry about. Why don’t we go swim? Or take a walk?”

He meant to answer, but a harsh shiver suddenly tore through your body. You felt cold again, even to him. A lance of pain from his own ill fated guilt, and he carefully stood, lifting you into his ink-stained arms. “Let’s go home.” You were clearly about to frown, and he had to correct himself. “Little angel, let’s go home.”

Not even the moon could outshine the immediate smile you brightened his world with.

[wellspringrpg]

Tumblr Tips for the Twitter Migrant

Hey friends, as a long-time tumblr user who never left, allow me to offer a few tips to make your lives a little bit easier. This is targeted at the twitter community who moved here from the TTRPG community and are looking to run more “formal” blogs.

1. Use your tags!

It’s gonna make your own life ultimately easier. Yes, tumblr’s search functions are questionable, but you can generally rely on being able to find stuff via tag on your blog.

Reblogs do not show up in site-wide searches. So, if you tag a reblog as “pokemon,” it doesn’t show up in the site-wide pokemon tag. Not even if you added something in your reblog. But it will show up on your /tagged/pokemon. This is basically the best way for both you and your followers to be able to find and sort through your own stuff. So if a follower wants to find a specific post of yours, they can go to YourBlog/tagged/my stuff. And followers browsing your blog is pretty normal here—it is a blog, after all. Don’t be weirded out if someone suddenly likes your post from 8 months ago.

And for that matter, most people here also use tags for commentary. It’s generally less obtrusive than adding commentary to a reblog, so you can add some thoughts without necessarily interjecting - the OP doesn’t get any special notification unlike they do with replies or reblogs with text additions. It’s a little spice just for your followers. (Just be aware that they are visible in the notes.)

As a general rule of thumb, you shouldn’t use dashes in your tags (links get confused), but spaces are safe.

2. Reblog (& Reply Culture).

So unlike with twitter, replying to something doesn’t put it on your followers feeds. (In fact, your followers can’t even see your replies unless they actively interact with the post itself.) Your likes aren’t necessarily public. (They are, by default, but only if your followers have certain settings enabled will they be able to see posts you like on their dashboard.) Basically, if you have a post you want someone to see: reblog it.

Replies are mainly for quick comments. It’s a pain to hold a discussion in the replies, so it’s mainly just for a quick “this is a neat take” kind of comment. Responding by reblogging + adding commentary in the post is how discussion actually happens. That’s the equivalent of actually replying on twitter. Tag commentary is for informal thoughts that aren’t necessarily inviting active discussion. It’s the spot for anecdotes or funny commentary that whoever posted it doesn’t necessarily need to have put directly in their activity feed.

3. Use the Readmore

Unlike Twitter where nuance goes to die, you may have noticed there’s no such thing as character limits here. Tumblr does automatically cut long posts unless you change your settings, but it’s generally still considered courteous to put a readmore. This little button here (also ctrl + shift + k).

It’ll prevent people browsing your blog from having to scroll through a huge wall of text unless they actively want to. It’s a good way to keep things organized. I’m breaking my own rule here for the sake of accessibility, but in most other cases, if you’re doing a long thread-type post, you should usually cut it to be courteous. Especially if it’s image-heavy.

4. Post Types (Photo vs. Text Post)

Most of us are probably gonna be using image posts and text posts. You can put images in text posts, yes, but generally speaking, you shouldn’t. At least not large images. If you have multiple large images (like covers, for example,) a good rule of thumb is to put them all in one image post. It’s also more eye-catching when the pretty picture is at the top. This isn’t a hard rule by any means, but generally speaking, it should usually be either that or one flashy image at the top and a readmore to spare your browser.

[myriadsystem]

.

[sick-as-a-dog]

×

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so theres a lot of posts going round about the titanic wreck and the missing submarines; all of them that ive seen have made very good points about how shoddy the submersible seemed to be and how the company decided to wait eight hours before reporting it, and how this is a play stupid games, win stupid prizes for the ultra-wealthy who paid like 250grand a ticket for this thing.

but what i havent seen any posts about is how the titanic wreck is a gravesite and this tourism is disturbing the graves of over 1500 people.

sometimes its kinda hard to remember that those on the titanic were real people; it was over a century ago, the story has been romanticised in so many ways (like the movie), theres conspiracies theories galore that cloud everything with misinformation, but at the end of the day, those who died were real people.

do you want their names? heres a list of them; its a long read. and for fun, heres another site where you can see photos of the children and babies who died aboard.

their bodies are long gone and their lives long forgotten. all we have to remember them and honour them is the wreck itself. its all we have of them and it is their gravesite. its their tombstone.

caitlin doughty/ask a morticians video on the great lakes discusses the topic well, and why we should leave these shipwrecks alone because again, they are the gravesites of all the souls who died aboard those ships. we rarely have bodies to recover so we really are left just with the wreck.

and what really upsets me about titanic tourism is how the majority of those who died that night were not the ultra-wealthy rich folks you might picture when you think of ocean liners.

61% of the first class passengers survived

42% of the second class passengers survived

24% of the third class passengers survived

24% of the crew survived **

the majority of those who died that night were regular folk; not to be cliche, but they were just like us. titanics wreck is not only a gravesite for over 1500 people, its also a majority working class gravesite.

and look at us now. look at what were doing. the ultra-wealthy can pay the equivalent of peanuts to them to disturb a mass gravesite of the exact kind of people they exploit today to hold onto all their wealth. 

its easy to point and laugh at these dumb idiots in their playstation controller submarine, seemingly held together with super glue and duct tape, but its also important to remember that what they were doing was simply disturbing a gravesite for fun. though the company does research, these guys werent down there to conduct research, they were there so they could brag about it to their friends. its like “climbing mount everest” while your sherpa does all the work.

if you cant tell, i have a lot of feelings about this. shipwrecks and ocean liners are one of my special interests and im currently building a (beginner’s) model of the titanic, for fucks sake. but i would never go down to see that wreck because its a fucking gravesite and we should not be disturbing their final resting place.

[okay-babe]

Imagine alastor thinks his wife is just the most perfect, angelic being he’s ever met, so he’s downright shocked to fight out she also ended up in hell going “yeah I killed a man once” (he falls even more in love)

A Good Thing, Indeed

tags: alastor x fem! reader, established relationship, alastor and reader are married, angelic reader, protective/possessive alastor, brief human alastor x human reader, fluff, very mild angst note: I went a little overboard with this one, but I hope you enjoy, anon <3 Find a sequel (of sorts) to this fic, here.

Alastor had never quite understood how someone like him had ended up with a woman like you.

You were soft and understanding, utterly ceaseless in your kindness and love of near anyone who crossed your path, a true saint to be sure.

Alastor on the other hand, had always been quite the opposite.

Where you were soft, your lover was unyielding, where you were understanding, he was impatient, and when it came to the capacity for kindness and love within his heart, many would have gone on record stating that there was much to be desired in that regard.

Yet, even still, you chose him, and he, you.

Every. Single. Time.

It was as if the two of you were meant to be.

The proud and charismatic up and coming host of a brand new radio show, and the modest and soft spoken kindergarten teacher that was ever present upon his arm.

To Alastor, you were everything and more, and whether he was willing to admit it aloud or not, he all but worshiped the very ground that you walked upon.

There was so very little worth caring for in a world like the one that he lived in, and yet there you were, a shining beacon of light and hope to keep him from losing his mind over it all (well, at least in part, though he knew deep down that a portion had been missing since long before you'd made your way into his life).

For all of this, Alastor praised you and your love ceaselessly, his appreciation for your union a vast and endless thing that filled him with a sense of pride stronger than any other he'd felt before.

And how could it not?

You were his wife.

You!

The beautiful kindergarten teacher who worked in the public school just down the street from his broadcasting station, the one with the smile that lit up a room and the laugh that could make a man blush.

The one with the students who sung her praises to their parents during pick up and the coworkers turned friends who would utterly gush about her at even the briefest mention of her name.

You.

The woman that no one believed had gotten New Orleans' most prominent radio host to settle down after only just a year of courting, and whose stunning church wedding had been the talk of the town.

You were perfect, you were lovely, and the sweetest part of it all was that you bore his last name.

And oh, what whiplash that must have caused for those who hadn't known of your courtship earlier on. It nearly sent Alastor into a tizzy just imagining it.

The sweet, adoring woman that your son calls his teacher is also the wife of the ever unreadable and notably cold radio host from just down the street that scarcely any could say they truly knew?

How scandalous! Whatever is a woman like her doing with a man like him?!

Well, the answer, quite honestly, was being doted upon nigh endlessly.

If you wanted for even the smallest of things, it would be yours in an instant, and if you desired even the most useless of luxuries, he would have spared no expense to have it in your hands by the end of the day.

And even beyond that, there was the persistent desire to stay by your side, his presence always guaranteed the very moment you mentioned want for it.

An ice cream social at the school where you'd be meeting your new students and their parents? Alastor was there, conversing politely with a few mothers on the difficulties of parenting (in spite of his notable lack of children), making nearly everyone wonder what the hell a famous radio host was doing at the local elementary school.

Visiting Mimzy at her slightly sleazy little lounge in the shadier side of the city? Alastor was there, dressed to the nines, looking immensely out of place as you danced the night away with your friends (and him of course) to your little heart's content.

His love for you was nearly as endless as yours was for the very world beneath your feet, and in spite of himself he couldn't help but fall deeper and deeper in love at every borderline naive action you took.

You want to buy that man a drink because he looks lonely? Certainly darling, your husband would be happy to scare him off all night as the fool tries to make unwanted advances at you that he thinks are warranted thanks to your kindness.

You want to pick a fight with the burly man whose house is on your walk to work because he's been shouting cruel things at his dog nearly every morning for the past several weeks? Oh of course, just let Alastor prepare to use his most unsettling smile while he reaches for the leather sheathed knife he keeps attached to his belt so he can wordlessly threaten the oaf without you ever even realizing.

And so, knowing all of that and having lived such a love-filled few years at your side, how could Alastor ever have believed he might one day see you again once he came to in Hell shortly after his demise?

The short answer was, he couldn't.

And though he would never have been willing to admit such a thing aloud, it utterly shattered a portion of his heart to know he would never see your sweet smile or hear your perfect laugh ever again.

And to imagine what your reaction may have been once the police had informed you of all that he had done?

Well, he tried his best not to.

Because while he couldn't bring himself to regret those he had killed and the things he had done, he did regret having been left with no choice but to keep such a thing from you and leave you with such a mess upon his death.

Certainly you had deserved better, that much he knew.

But there was absolutely nothing he could do about that now.

Or, at least, that's what he had led himself to believe.

Until one day, he'd been broken out of his typical morning routine of brewing his black coffee and digging into a freshly caught deer by the sound of knocking at his door.

There were very few people who knew of where Alastor lived at this point, with him being multiple years removed from life and having firmly cemented himself within society as a powerful and merciless overlord, so honestly it hadn't come as very much of a surprise when he opened the door and found an old friend waiting rather impatiently on the other side.

Mimzy.

Having arrived in Hell not very long after the radio host, the former flapper, (who he had actually met through you), had become a familiar face throughout the past few years as he'd tried to grow accustomed to life without his darling wife at his side.

It was nice, in a way, to have that reminder of you near when he wished for it to be, and so he allowed the sinner to call him something like a friend and offered her protection when it was convenient enough for him that it didn't prove to be a hassle.

Although, today of all days the overlord was certainly a little less than pleased to see Mimzy's familiar face at his doorstep, and he was reasonably certain that she knew why that was.

It was your former anniversary after all, and today would have been your tenth year of marriage had he only lived long enough to reach such a landmark achievement with you.

A smile, strained and thin, descended upon his lips, and, in spite of his feelings, Alastor remained as cordial as ever, albeit rather cold with his words.

"Mimzy, my dear! How wonderful to see you! Whatever could possibly be so important as to have you at my door on a day like today?"

There was a certain level of threat to his tone that no doubt left the woman standing before him floundering for a few seconds, before finally, she mustered up her reply, her smile ever so slightly less confident than before.

"Alastor, just the fella that I was lookin' for!"

The sinner began, placing her right hand upon her hip as she inspected the condition of the nails on her left,

"Now I know ya like to be left alone and all on days like this, but I've got a surprise for ya back at my place that I promise you're gonna wanna see a-s-a-p."

She said with her typical air of confidence, immediately causing the Radio Demon to roll his eyes in response, his facade of interest slipping ever so slightly before he seemed to catch himself once more, ever the gentleman.

"Oh do you now? Well, as utterly transfixed as I am over this little mystery of yours, I'm afraid that I just don't have the time to stop by today. Lot's of things to prepare for the upcoming broad-"

"Alastor."

Mimzy said sternly, cutting the overlord in question off rather uncharacteristically with a glare of her own.

"I know damn well that you don't got nothin' planned for the day, so don't you start fibbin', mista, I can see right through ya!"

She began, quickly changing the subject when she seemed to recall exactly who she was talking to at the increasing sound of static.

"Look, I didn't come here to argue with ya or nothin', so you do whatever it is that you wanna do. I just wanted to come over and warn ya that if you don't come by for a visit by the end of the day you're gonna feel like a real fool, okay?"

She emphasized her warning with a dramatized raise of her brow before she grinned rather wickedly and stepped down off of his doorstep, wiggling her fingers in a teasing little wave as she climbed into the back of the very same taxi she must have used to get to his dwellings in the first place.

"I'll see ya around dollface!"

She called out as the car pulled away, leaving Alastor with quite a few more questions than he'd had upon her already unplanned arrival.

What a fantastic start to one's day.

By the time that Alastor made the decision to actually stop by Mimzy's lounge, it was already dark outside, the subtle chirping of crickets reminding him briefly of home as he walked toward his destination, ever a fan of the more simplistic methods of transportation.

He thought of the sounds of crickets and all of the moments with you that their seemingly endless chirps had backed until their sounds faded away with the increasing sounds of the busier section of the city, wherein Mimzy's place was located.

Just as sleazy and sketchy as it had been above, so it was below, and Alastor felt a sudden sense of longing and familiarity as he stepped inside, the smell of cigarettes and the sound of ever so slightly out of tune jazz music reminding him of his days of swing dancing with you on the cracked dance floor of the place Mimzy had owned and operated in life.

The Radio Demon had only just begun to contemplate what you might have thought of a place like this one when suddenly, he heard a familiar voice call out his name, and he turned to find the lounge's owner walking quickly toward him, a wide grin that nearly rivaled his own splitting her cheeks.

"Well would you look who it is, Alastor the Radio Demon here in my lil' lounge, what a lucky lady I must be!"

Mimzy teased as she shouted over the obnoxiously loud music, immediately forcing the man in question to hold back another instinctual roll of his eyes.

"Oh, nonsense, I should think that luck has very little to do with it, my dear."

Alastor drawled, dragging his gaze downward to find his friend standing there, all but vibrating upon her feet, clearly excited by something, though he couldn't quite fathom what in Hell it could possibly be.

That is, until he heard another familiar voice pipe up from somewhere behind him, this one far less anticipated than the last, and by a rather significant margin at that.

"Mimzy?"

It called, an edge of stress to it that had the corners of the overlord's smile twitching downward ever so slightly for the briefest of moments.

Alastor watched as the ex flapper standing before him grinned widely in response to his barely noticeable reaction, her eyes shining as she allowed the person speaking to continue with their question.

"Who did you say the whiskey on the rocks was for?"

The lounge's owner hopped up onto a stool beside where she had been standing, gesturing to the space at the bar near where Alastor was still firmly planted, the ears atop his head twitching ever so slightly as they took in the sound of a voice he'd never thought he'd hear again for the very first time since he'd awoken with them camouflaged within his hair.

"Right here, doll. Speakin' of which, why dontcha c'mere and meet one of my regulars, huh?"

She asked as casually as she could manage, gesturing slightly for the still reeling sinner standing beside the bar to take a seat, which, to her surprise, he actually did, eyes seeking out the source of the voice he was hearing as if in utter disbelief.

And then, much to his shock, there you were.

Sure, you looked different as a sinner, but he would recognize you anywhere, and it certainly helped that your beautiful smile was the very same as he remembered it to be whenever he closed his eyes and found you there waiting for him.

Busy with what was likely a fairly large number of orders that your fellow bartender seemed to be doing very little to try and keep up with, you didn't seem to notice him at first, walking quickly toward your old friend with a glass of whiskey in hand, moving to place it down in front of the ever so prominent Radio Demon absentmindedly when suddenly, you froze, your hand still wrapped around the chilled cup.

The two of you stared at one another for several long moments, eyes widened and breaths halting entirely, until finally Mimzy spoke up from Alastor's right, her laughter obnoxious beside his ear, though he could scarcely bring himself to care with his gaze locked so heavily onto yours.

"Happy anniversary, ya lovebirds! Didn't expect that, didja?!"

She all but cackled, causing you to break eye contact with your husband to gawk at your friend.

"Wait a second, you knew he was here the whole time and didn't tell me?!"

You cried, hand flying to your mouth as Alastor began to regard the woman sitting beside him with a hugely threatening glare, the frightfulness of which was only increased by his unyielding grin, which was beginning to appear more and more malicious by the second.

"Woah woah woah, hold your horses!"

Mimzy shouted, waving her hands all about as if in surrender as she looked back and forth between the two of you nervously,

"She only just got down here this mornin' I swear!"

She explained hurriedly to the overlord beside her, causing the man's eye to twitch with effort as he struggled not to tear his old friend limb from limb while her entire bar watched on in horror.

Alastor tapped one clawed finger against the bar in front of him, his sharpened teeth appearing even more threatening than usual at his apparent anger over the situation at hand.

"And you didn't think, my dear,"

He began, his voice low,

"That I may have wanted to know sooner?"

The sound of static overtook the lounge as the sinner's anger increased with each word he said, causing everyone, including those hired to play the live music, to flee out the front door, leaving the trio to their own devices within the confines of the now empty space.

This fact worked extremely well for Alastor, who was only growing more enraged with each passing second as he considered the implication of Mimzy's actions further.

Not only had this woman, someone who had dared call him a friend for so many years, betrayed him by keeping your presence unknown, but she had also clearly employed you at her poor excuse for a lounge, and was now acting as if she had done him a favor by allowing him to be in the presence of the very woman he'd married.

The urge to rip the sinner to shreds with his very own claws was immense, and perhaps he even would have done so had it not been for a gentle hand coming to rest upon his forearm, the weight of it felt even through his shirt and coat.

Immediately, he stiffened, the familiarity of the touch so jarring that his previous thoughts of murder ceased within an instant as he turned his head to face you properly.

There, illuminated by the dim and yellowed lights of the bar, stood his wife, a woman who he had never expected to see again after all that he had done.

What good deed must he have committed in life to deserve such a blessing as this?

Surely there was some kind of mistake and someone would be descending from the heavens to collect you soon, an angel sent to Hell on accident by way of some great failure on Saint Peter's fault.

Your husband stared at you for a few moments, as if afraid you might disappear if he so much as blinked, before finally, you spoke up, your lips curving into a slightly nervous smile.

"Let her explain?"

You asked gently, taking up the very same tone you used to when asking your beloved to make an exception to one of his many strict internalized rules for your benefit.

'Stay home with me?'

'Give him a chance?'

'A slightly less violent solution, perhaps?'

(the latter of which he'd heard more often than he was willing to admit).

And this time, as always, he caved almost immediately, giving a rather stern nod of his head before looking toward Mimzy with an obviously strained smile on his lips.

She didn't have long, that was for sure.

If she wanted to explain, she'd better do so quickly.

And that much must have been clear, because the ex flapper started talking just about as fast as she could manage while still remaining intelligible.

And what a tale she spun, indeed.

With hurried words and a remarkably nervous expression the likes of which neither you nor your husband had ever seen Mimzy wear before, the sinner apologized profusely for not telling either of you sooner, promising that she had only been trying to make it a surprise in celebration of your anniversary.

Apparently, she had vastly overestimated how persuasive she could be, and had assumed (rather incorrectly) that Alastor would be much more urgent in his arrival to her lounge after she'd paid him a visit, meaning she hadn't exactly intended to have kept the two waiting so long for the "grand reveal" of her surprise.

And, slowly but surely, as Mimzy explained her thought process, your confusion and your husband's apparent anger all but melted away, both reactions coming to be replaced with something located somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

How very like your friend it was to meddle in such a manner, after all.

You'd missed this.

(Alastor wished dearly that he could say the same, but having been stuck alone with it for several years, he couldn't quite relate.)

Still, even he had to admit that Mimzy's actions were something far more similar to misguided kindness than intentional ill will.

Though, there was still one issue that was still bothering him...

"Mimzy."

Alastor interrupted the sinner in the middle of her ramble, watching as she immediately shut her mouth and looked up at him, a familiar bout of nervous laughter falling from her lips as she wrung her hands together.

Seeing that she was paying attention, the overlord continued,

"I understand what you were going for with your..." He trailed off for a moment before hearing you pipe up from where you stood on the other side of the bar,

"Efforts."

How amusing, it seemed that even after years of separation, not even death could sever the almost supernatural ability you had to understand what your husband was trying to say before even he truly did.

Alastor nodded,

"Exactly. But that being said, I struggle to understand one thing."

He leaned toward his old friend slightly, watching her eyes widen as he did so, clearly unsure of what was going to happen next.

"Why, pray tell, my dear, is my wife spending her precious time working at your lounge if you had every intention of returning her to me?"

The possessive tone to his voice made you blush, eyes moving to the ground as you awaited Mimzy's response.

She was quick to answer.

"Great question, dollface!"

She laughed nervously,

"I uh, I guess I kinda figured she'd know if she was down here then you would be too, so I wanted to give her a little bit of a distraction... and maybe get some extra help for a few hours in the meantime."

She admitted quietly, though by the time she was finished speaking, Alastor wasn't paying her much mind anymore, his mind now occupied with what he considered to be a far more pressing issue.

Because now that Mimzy mentioned it...

"Dearest,"

He began, immediately catching your attention as he turned to face you fully, allowing you to take in the sight of him and his new "look" for the first time since your arrival.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a fan, as different as it may have been.

"Speaking of 'down here',"

Alastor continued, amusement dancing within his eyes,

"What exactly are you doing in a place like Hell?"

Your gaze moved downward once more at that, and you cleared your throat awkwardly as you tried to find anything else to focus on.

Eventually though, you gave up, and forced yourself to meet your husband's gaze once more.

"I uh, I killed a parent..."

You muttered under your breath, immediately causing Alastor's eyes to widen slightly in surprise, one of his ears twitching slightly atop his head.

"Pardon?"

He asked in utter disbelief, unable to even begin to comprehend what he was hearing.

You, his beautiful and darling wife, had killed a parent of one of the children you taught?

Utterly unbelievable, perish the thought.

You sighed, crossing your arms in a mix of embarrassment and frustration,

"I killed a parent, Al. Lucy and Arnold's father. He was beating on them and their mama something fierce, and I saw the opportunity to put a stop to it one night when walking over to the station after work... He went down the alley between the grocers and the tailor to take a shortcut home or something like that, and I just followed him before I even knew what was really going on..."

You sounded hesitant as you spoke, eyes downcast once more until without a word, your husband pressed his gloved index finger to your chin, raising your gaze to his own once more so you could see the utter awe present there.

He was positively enamored.

"You killed Harry Wells?"

He asked, shock still coloring his tone as he watched you for your reaction.

Slowly, after a few seconds of contemplation, you nodded, cheeks still pink as you did your best to keep from trying to avoid Alastor's heavy gaze.

"I uh, yeah. I did."

The overlord sitting across from you chuckled softly, a sound that slowly grew in volume and exuberance until he was laughing outright, the familiar sound music to your ears even as he sighed and wiped a tear from his eye afterward, something he had done often in life.

He grinned even wider at you than before, the pride in his eyes obvious as he shook his head as if still in disbelief.

"And to think,"

He began, reaching across the counter to grab both of your hands so he could pull you closer, your forearms resting against the bar countertop.

"I hadn't thought it possible to love you any more than I already did."

You laughed at that, pressing your forehead against your husband's with a sigh,

"Well in that case, I suppose it's a good thing that I have all of eternity to prove you wrong, huh?"

Alastor chuckled softly, humming as he took in the sight of you, as if trying to commit each individual detail to memory.

"A good thing, indeed, dear heart."

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

F***ing FINALLY!!! I've been looking for stuff with a Reader saving Dogday since he's been introduced and I've only got like, three so far-

And I want this Reader to be resourceful, using anything to patch Dogday up(including scraps of Miss Delight's dress)

I hear your calls <3

...............

"You're wasting precious time, angel. Poppy needs you. I'm only gonna slow you down. Just leave me here, and tell her I'm-"

"You'll get to tell her that yourself, Dogday. Because I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna help you whether you like it or not."

With a huff, you used the grabpack to wheel in a cart filled with an assortment of items you picked up around the Playcare area: doll parts, plush felt, metal bars, and even Dogday's other missing leg, which you have miraculously found in the playhouse.

You did your best to stitch them back onto his body, although the real challenge was fixing them up first--considering how badly they got mangled by the smaller Smiling Critters. Through sheer luck, you were still able to recognize them as his legs.

And conveniently, you've retained some of your craftsmanship skills from your days working with Playtime Co.

You were given some praise for being able to speedily patch up broken and torn-up toys, but you've never touched upon any of the "Bigger Bodies" despite seeing similar injuries on them. They simply never gave you that clearance, and dealing with blood and organs (and possible death) was something way above your paygrade.

But with Dogday, you were able to apply similar techniques you used in doll repair. You made patches out of Miss Delight's polka-dot dress to cover up any tears, and you created small mechanisms to put inside his legs that would (hopefully) enable him to walk again.

It was like you were performing a surgical operation..

Except, well..that's exactly what was going on.

Despite your unwavering determination--and the fact that you succeeded in reattaching one leg to him so far--he insisted that you were only putting yourself at risk trying to help him.

Hell, you nearly got torn apart by those little Smiling Critters who chased you both down, being scared off by the flares you shot at them. He didn't think you'd have enough..but by the grace of god, you did. And you escaped and found a safe place where Kissy Missy and Poppy were also hiding out.

Not only did you finally get a breather, but also a chance to help one of the few toys left here who somehow didn't lose their humanity.

Even so, Dogday still feared for your safety.

"You know..this will only enrage Catnap, right?" He rasped, choking out a wet cough. "He'll know that I'm missing. And he'll know you have something to do with it.."

"Wait.." Pausing in your work, you glanced up at him with furrowed eyebrows. "Why would he care about where you are? Or better yet..why would he keep you alive at all?"

"...because I was his favorite."

"Huh..?"

"Before the Prototype became his sole focus, we did everything together." He explained somberly. "We helped the others fall asleep, stayed out of trouble. Catnap and I..we were like day and night. Two peas in a pod. He brands me a heretic now, but...somehow, I don't believe he likes doing so. Maybe..he hasn't forgotten our friendship, after all."

'Well, stringing someone up by belts and ripping off half their body doesn't sound like something a good friend would do..' You thought to yourself, although you understood where he was coming from.

Yet it didn't change the fact you still wanted to kill that stupid purple cat. Especially after he gave you that hellish nightmare of Huggy crawling out of a television.

"I know you wanna believe there's still good in him, but..he's long gone." You shook your head. "Those critters..they tried crawling inside your body, and he was just gonna allow it all because you didn't wanna follow the Prototype's will."

"........"

Silence was your only reply, but you decided to shift your focus back on repairing the other leg. Dogday allowed you to work, no longer protesting as he instead looked at the stitches on his arms, feeling grateful yet unworthy at the same time.

Him and the others...they were all monsters. He never killed a single human in his existence (or at least none that he could recall), but he felt like he was just as terrible as those who did.

Eventually, you finished, and his ears perked up at your sigh of relief as you set down your tools and pushed the cart away. "There we go. Try to stand up, but take it slow. Okay?"

He nodded, feeling quite nervous as he looked at his legs, before he slowly pushed himself off the ground. For a few moments, he was able to stand, but he wobbled a little and had to hold onto the nearest wall so he didn't lose balance.

'When was the last time I had my legs? It's been so long...'

Then he felt your grabpack's hands gently steady him, and soon enough he could stand on his own without their support.

You smiled and retracted them. "How do you feel?"

"Much better...thank you, angel." Dogday looked down at you, the corners of his wide smile turning further upwards. "You truly are something divine. You've come to heal us, mend all of our broken pieces, even when we do not deserve such kindness. How could I ever repay you?"

Right as you were about to respond, you heard sounds of plush feet moving and turned around, seeing Kissy and Poppy entering the room.

You didn't really he'd nearly be as tall as Huggy's spouse.

"You fixed him! What can't you do?" The redhaired doll gasped in awe, hopping onto Kissy's hand before she was carefully transferred over to Dogday's paws, stepping into them.

He held her gently, smiling. "Poppy."

"It's so good to see you, my friend." She smiled, although it was quick to disappear. "I thought all of you were gone."

"It's just me now, and...I'm....I-I'm...." He began to sniffle, his voice breaking as the weight of everything that's happened came crashing down. "I'm so sorry...I tried so hard, but...I-I failed! I couldn't protect them!"

Thin streams of tears seeped from the corners of his eyes, darkening the fur along his cheeks. "Kickin'...B-Bobby..they all died because of me! I was supposed to be their leader, but all I did was lead them to their demise! I-I should have joined them in-"

"There, there..it's going to be alright." Poppy softly hushed him, patting his arm in comfort. "You did your best to protect them given the circumstances. I promise we'll have our chance to avenge them. But you must live, for their sake..and for [y/n]'s sake, too. They went through a lot to fix you up."

"I know but..I-I'm so scared. I don't wanna face him alone-"

"You won't be alone, because I'm gonna take care of him."

With another sniffle, Dogday looked down at you, feeling you gently petting his ear as another comforting gesture. Your eyes held nothing but sympathy and heartache for this poor creature. "I'm sorry, but we have to put him down. It's the only way we can move forward."

"Are you sure?" He mumbled. "He's gotten more powerful, and hungry-"

"So were Huggy and Mommy, but I saw how [y/n] dealt with them..and they're more than capable." Poppy remarked. "But now that Catnap's onto them, they'll need all the protection they can get."

"Then..I'll do my best to help." He finally declared, smiling at you.

You blinked, surprised that he was willing to stand up against the one who tortured him. But you simply nodded and smiled back, watching as he returned Poppy to Kissy, before he turned back to you and crouched down.

He enveloped you in a warm hug, the vanilla scent still seeping from his suit and helping you feel more at ease.

"Thank you, Dogday." You chuckled, hugging him back.

"No..thank you, my guardian angel. I will follow you to the ends of the earth."

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

The Invisible String Theory

PAIRING: König x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You didn't expect the man who gave you his coat to be the same one to bust down the door where you and the other women slept - sniper hood scaring everyone within an inch of their life. You didn't expect him to become so important to you, either. (Based on König's in-game backstory).

WORDCOUNT: 9.2k

WARNINGS: Human trafficking, mentions of unwanted touching, trauma, blood, gore, guns, bullets, protective!König, soft!König, nightmares, mentions of bullying, etc.

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

'DATE: 25, NOVEMBER, 2021

LOCATION: BERLIN, GERMANY

TIME OF EVENT: 0230

MISSION REPORT: PENDING….'

You don’t remember much from the day that could be called out of the ordinary. Ever since you’d been moved here with the other girls, everything was predictable down to the time the men would come over, to the point where the screams had to be muffled by pillows. 

Never in your life did you think you’d be part of the nearly fifty million people stuck in this situation, and neither did you think you’d be the one in one hundred who got out. But before you can think about November twenty-fifth and those pale gray eyes, you have to go back to the beginning. To Al-Qatala. 

You hadn’t been with this cell initially—you’d been moved around and bartered off more times than you could count; the initial founder of your predicament was long gone at this point. North and South America, Europe, Africa, Asia, and Oceania…you’d been practically everywhere and on every continent barring the obvious last. In Europe, you couldn’t name the countries, but you knew this for a fact: you’d never been to Germany before. 

They had you with five other women in a large SUV in the beginning, this international ring of human traffickers. You had watched from the window, face blank and eyes unblinking, at the men who met near the docks. They had brought you in through Hamburg, first—not only the largest seaport in Germany but the third largest in Europe; you think you read that on a flier at some point. One of those flimsy ones that you find in gas stations with bright lettering to attract the tourists with their interesting facts. 

You wished you were only a tourist. 

You’d watched the men shake hands, and that was when you knew your fate, as well as that of the five other women, was sealed. You were going to all be here for a long time. 

This Al-Qatala cell was ruthless, but you supposed with being around terrorists, ruthlessness was better than being executed. 

For days you’d be exploited with the false promises of moments of freedom, breaks, food, and water. For some of the women it was drugs or money, but when your stomach was empty and your eyes blurring from lack of sleep, even addictions seemed to pale for brief hours. But above it all was the threat of death at every corner. These men would kill you. 

It was only a matter of time unless you could give them what they wanted. 

You yourself had developed a system, and it was probably the only reason you were still alive. Pick one of the handlers, gain his favor, and pray that he treats you specially while you keep up the act of a mindless, weak, woman. 

Ivon was the man’s name this time around. Born and raised here in Berlin before the clutches of his fanatical ideations brought him to Al-Qatala. You hated him.

Hated his touch—hated his scent and how he talked; every bit of him was corrupted like a black dog at a crossroads, always leading people down the wrong path. Your only saving grace was that he was stupid. The other girls called you Cat—said you managed to nuzzle up to someone and soon after got them to give you what you wanted. Everything you wanted except freedom, that was.

You didn’t deny that Ivon did give you privileges, but that was the point. About a week into your stay in Berlin, he allowed you to go into public with him. Arm-candy.

A doll. 

The townhouse you’d been stuck in had disappeared into a spec behind the rearview mirror, the chilled air from outside making you shiver at the lack of heat and the thin shawl you’d been thrown. No jacket. 

The care of your health only extended to how well you were able to work—at the moment you were relatively healthy despite the bulge of bruises and constantly shell-shocked look behind your eyes.

But the trip—the trip. You supposed that was when it had fully started, and you didn’t even realize it before you saw those gray eyes again. 

“Come,” Ivon orders, holding tightly to your arm and dragging you along from the corner shop without making a scene. Your hands loosely brush the wrack of clothes, fabric soft under your fingertips as it sways. 

Fixing your shawl, you try to burrow your neck into it, gaining what little heat is available to you. It was cold out—you were shivering. People send looks, eyes tight as they shift up and down your form, but no one ever says anything. To be this bold, this cell had to have been at this for a long, long time. The realization didn’t make you feel any better. 

That was when you first saw him. 

You were standing outside a coffee shop, quivering like a newly hatched butterfly, Ivon making a call only a few feet away with fast motions of his arms. It was hard not to make a run for it right then and there; hard not to take those few seconds of open air and dash away—start screaming and yelling until the authorities came. 

It would save yourself, but what about the others? They wouldn’t be so fortunate, you’d be sentencing them to death. None of this was simple—it needed to be thought out. Two games of chess being played at the same time.

The irony of it was that König had been off-duty that day. It had been a shot in the dark. 

“Are you alright?” A thick Austrian accent makes you flinch as it appears beside your right ear, grating.

Your eyes snap to the side, moving one foot back as you blink wildly up at the blue-gray orbs that would become a staple. You liked to call it as everyone else did—the invisible string theory. A theory that stated that the universe connected people who were destined to meet one day. Through thick or thin waters, it was inevitable. He was inevitable. 

“Yes,” you say quickly, holding your hands tightly around you. The man ahead of you was tall, almost startlingly so, with muscles more bulky than a boulder and his buzz-cut head open to the chilled breeze. He wore a surgical mask over his lower visage, his hoodie under the thick material of a canvas jacket. “Yes,” you say again, hearing Ivon’s voice behind you still on the phone. “I’m fine, thank you.”

Gray eyes furrow slightly, gaze darting over your head. 

“Are you…sure, Ma’am?” 

“Thank you for your concern,” you fake laugh, eyes pained, backing up farther. That invisible string snaps into place, pulling tight at only those few simple words. 

His stature made you slightly nervous—large, intimidating; those hands could do quite the damage if given the chance. Your eyes had hit and bounced off the identity discs at his chest with little thought, too preoccupied to notice the fact that he was in the Service.

König’s eyes had narrowed softly, dark brows minutely moving in.

Ivon hangs up his phone. 

“Can I help you?” He asks, coming up and sliding a hand around your waist. The man had stared at him for a long minute, and you had felt Ivon tense slowly at the unblinking eye contact. 

This stranger had commented in German a long string of frim words, hands going to his jacket and grabbing at the arms—he slips out of it while still uttering. 

Before you can react, the large coat swallows you whole and you snatch at the heat that’s still inside instinctually, now only realizing how much you were shivering. Your body sags into the weight of the fabric, the scent of sweat and coffee. 

You don’t even pay attention to the growing tones, shocked. People look over to the two fast words being tossed.

Yet it could only last so long. 

Ivon’s hand latches onto the side of your arm, beginning to drag you back and away from this kind stranger like a lap dog while throwing curses behind him. Gray eyes meet yours as old shoes skid and stumble. 

König had taken a firm step towards you that day, his body tense and his hands clenched at his side—ready to do anything on a moment's notice should you ask for it. But all you do is stare, jaw loose, and the given coat still on your shoulders. You just couldn’t understand why he would do that. 

The stranger gets swallowed by the crowd, and just like that, he’s gone. 

That was all it had been; a moment—a few mere seconds in the large plot that was this almost impossible tale. You were glad it had been him, or else the events of the future could have been very different. 

Of course, they hadn’t let you keep the jacket, but the memory was enough to warm you for days even as old pains faded and new ones took their place. 

But those gray eyes would help you in the future, like a guardian; a protector in your dreams as you watched the snow fall from the sliver of outside light in your room with the others. Your mattress was on the floor like the rest, thin blankets and clouds of cold breath wafting up from sleeping forms. 

This was the time it happened, and you’d just woken up to find the curtains shifting as one of the women near it moved in her sleep. Shadows slip past, the light interrupted as it shifts over your tired face with broken fractures. 

You were always kept on the ground floor. 

'CLEARANCE: APPROVED 

TRANSLATING MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’…

STAND BY…

Operation Red Freedom took place on November twenty-fifth, 2021, at approximately 0230 in the neighborhood of [REDACTED], at the residence of [REDACTED], Berlin, Germany. A squad of ten highly trained [REDACTED] personnel covertly entered the residence in two teams of five. Fireteam One advanced from the back entrance while Fireteam Two entered the residence from the balcony at the top floor, accessed via ladder.

Squad Leader [REDACTED], part of Fireteam One, set foot in the residence of [REDACTED] at approximately 0238 and began sweeping the ground floor as Fireteam Two cleared three of twelve known individuals belonging to the terrorist organization, Al-Qatala, on the top floor….'

You shift and shiver, your body trying to warm itself as the world blurs at the sides of your vision. Fingers twitch as your hand goes to wrap your waist, curled into the fetal position, creaking emanates from above you. Blinking softly, you frown and take a quivering breath, head nuzzling the thin mattress. 

“Cold,” you say, the following low exhale of air out of your lips only making it all worse as everything seems to drop another degree. The darkness didn’t help either, only that one line of light trying desperately to fill the room like a bucket descending into a dry well. 

You’re only clothed in the dirty and tattered remains of a large shirt, your legs feeling like they don’t hold any blood in them as they quiver without your knowledge—shaking the blanket above you. A few of the girls had said it would be okay to share, but everyone was afraid of the lock on the door clicking open and the men coming back in and seeing them. In the end, you could only look after yourself.

A thump makes you startle, drooping eyes snapping back open as you gasp. 

Head shifting, you blink rapidly upward to the ceiling, confused as to whether that had been a part of a failing mind or if you’d really just heard a muffled bump upstairs. Brows furrowing, you lightly sit up, hands still around yourself and legs limply outward; spine hunched. 

Your fingers had lost feeling, just as your nose had gone numb, but moving helped a little. Your hands dig into your flesh and your ears twitch at every creak in the wood—every pass of silent feet that suddenly becomes all the clearer as the sheen of fatigue slowly leaves your brain. 

Walking? Small pains move along your body like needles, poking and prodding, but you ignore them as easily as you do the vile hands that had touched you. Survival had forced you into a constant state of self-preservation—pain couldn’t bother you, because if you stopped, you wouldn’t get back going again. 

Your head tilts so you can side-eye the door to the room, sleeping forms all around shifting, singular groaning of tired lungs. But there’s something inside of you that stiffens like a prey animal, and you don’t know why. Inside of your sockets, your eyes hone in, bones stiff and your chest stilling as the grain becomes the most interesting thing to you beyond breathing. 

There was someone….out there. 

Watching, the sides of your vision shadow over to focus harder, your muscles tight. Your mind goes to the thumps from upstairs, the moving feet that sounded far more careful and deliberate than the ones your jailors took care to walk with. 

Inside your ribs, your heart patters a bit faster, adrenal glands sending a certain flight or flight through the few veins you hold that aren’t chilled over.

Something was happening. Something wasn’t right.

Only when you move to shake the shoulder of one of the women sleeping beside you does it happen. 

A yell. 

A scream. 

The girls in the room all startle awake, sounds of concern and shock entering the air that you mirror; faces snapping to the ceiling and the door. The townhouse erupts into gunfire and the sound of slamming wood—a warzone that only is separated from all of you by the thin material of the four walls.

You feel yourself being grabbed and held in fear in the dark, as your open face holds the expression of a rabbit in an open field, looking along the long, hidden grass. 

The sounds persist, loud German shouts going up over the house and echoing with heated fever. This continues for minutes, added in with the sound of doors breaking off hinges, bouncing off the ground, and shaking the foundation so hard that you can feel it reverberate. The women go silent. Stone-still. 

But the gunfire—so much gunfire. The constant pop of assault weapons and a pound of multiple booted feet. 

What was going on? You can't make sense of it, so you only freeze and listen; trying to understand the longer the fight goes on, heart hammering; mouth slack-jawed. And then it’s like it never happened.

Silence. 

You share quick looks with the others, all gripping one another and heads angled to the door. The heavy feet start back up again, coming closer. Your mind slashes to the window across the room, but it’s hard to think beyond the sudden body that shakes the door that leads directly to you all—the women scream, some standing up and racing to the glass with the same idea as you. 

'…Squad Leader [REDACTED], and both Fireteams successfully eliminated all targets inside of the [REDACTED] residence, leaving the room occupied by known hostages last to prevent casualties and/or the usage of bargaining chips. Squad Leader [REDACTED] made contact with hostages at approximately 0244 after the final sweep of the townhouse had been completed and all personnel accounted for.

Local authorities had been contacted by neighbors due to noise but were dismissed.' 

The door busts off its hinges and the room devolves into panicked yells and hurled bits of mattress material. Loud pleas and curses stuck like gums to teeth as they were forced out in fear and bone-crushing terror. You remember pushing back into the wall, many others doing the same, as a beast of a man enters the room with his face covered with a loose fabric hood of some sort. 

Large—brutish. Like a demon walking with the color of black printed over his entire body; gear hangs from a combat vest, hands holding an assault rifle as a sidearm is strapped to his bulging thigh. Forearms the side of your head stays near his chest, and in order to not hit his head on the doorframe, the individual has to bend slightly. Over that hood, the lenses and head-gear of a night-vision rig sit heavily before it’s moved back with a firm hand that is nearly double the size of yours.

A monster.

Your entire being is tight with quivering tension, eyes blinking away tears at the smell of blood that rolls in from the hallway. The women at the window duck down, hands to their heads as if expecting a bullet to carve its way between their skulls. 

“Cat,” one of the ladies behind you mutters, voice quivering. You shush her on bitten lips and move her farther behind you. 

“Don’t speak,” you mutter. “Don’t move.”

You don’t know what you expect, but nothing about this is correct. 

The man raises his hands, the rifle slapping his chest as it hangs from a strap. He speaks in German, and the heavy and fast noise of it makes your already addled head spin. No one answers beyond the slide of their own feet over the hardwood floors.

“Ich heiße König,” his head swivels from one to another, “Sprichst du Deutsch? Irgendjemand?”

You stare blankly, panting. 

After a moment, and a slow step forward from the stranger, he speaks again, though this time, it’s in English. 

“My name is König.” His voice is familiar to you, and you blink in confusion quickly, hidden near the back of the shaking bodies. “I am with the German Military, yes? We have conducted a raid on this residence.” 

Military? Raid? 

“...I am not here to hurt you.” He nears one of the women, beginning to bend down slowly. She squeaks, balking back—making him tense and halt. It didn't matter what he said, König was the epitome of a man who was intimidating on body alone; the gear wasn’t helping. Neither was the hood. 

A soldier appears in the doorway, calling out to him in his native language as you flinch at the noise. 

König calls back calmly, trying to keep an air of gentle strength around him.

The second soldier comes inside, dressed similarly despite the lack of fabric over his visage which instantly puts many at ease again. He clears his throat as König steps back, gargantuan hands coming up to rest at his vest collar as his legs shift. He seems a bit put off at the fearful stares from everyone, rolling his shoulders for a moment as he turns his head to look out of the doorway. 

Your eyes don’t move from him, though. A nagging feeling in the back of your skull. 

“We have to leave this place,” the second soldier tells you all, kneeling and resting a hand over his knee. “We’ll get you medical attention. Food. Water. There’s no need to suffer here any longer, hm? We can see to it that all of you will get the best care that can be provided.” A pause. “We can get you back home.” 

That certainly got the attention that was needed. 

Meek questions started falling out, then louder ones before pandemonium was roused in that tiny room pushed to the very back of the townhouse. Home. It was a word that had almost lost all meaning but was still that constant shining light in the back of everyone’s mind. 

Home.

Did you even have one of those left? 

As the rest of your fellows all got to their feet, taking you with them, you had to think over that fact as the soldier guided them gently out of the room to join the others waiting—trying to answer their questions and get them away from the gore before they saw it. 

You stayed behind, feet shifting over the floor and your lips thin. As the silence settles in, you hold yourself a bit tighter and glance at the mattress all mashed together and stained—those thin blankets as you shiver. 

“Are you alright?” Your head snaps over. 

You’d forgotten about König.

He still stands there, still and with his hands at his collar; he clears his throat softly, speaking up from his low utterance. “Please…do not be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid,” you say tinily, your voice cracking in the lie. 

You can’t see his eyes—not with the shadow from his hood or his head rig, but you can see the way his skull lightly tilts to the side, trying to see you better in the low light. 

“That is good,” he answers, not convinced. “I’m glad. I did not wish to scare anyone.” He moves back and motions with a hand to the door from where they hang. “Please. It is best not to linger, yes?”  

“Do I…” you hesitate, shivering. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

König’s face isn’t visible, but you can still sense the feeling of confusion leaking out of him. The man takes a small step closer, and you gaze up at him until his eyes are visible. 

Blue-gray. 

You stare, mouth parting in shock.

König blinks twice, quickly making a noise in the back of his throat at the sight of your eyes gazing into his—the same woman outside of the coffee shop from days ago.

That little invisible string pulls you closer, small millimeter by small millimeter. 

“You?” You both say it at the same time, laced with surprise and shock. 

It’s a long moment of gazing into each other, a battered body and another more strong than an ox. All fear of the man dissipates. 

“You gave me your jacket,” you whisper, still torn up about it. 

König’s hood shifts as he glances back to the door, German speech over the radio strapped to his chest which he takes in and processes in the back of his skull. But he always looks back at you, eyes crinkled with concern and perhaps even a bit of misplaced guilt. 

A protective knife sides into his side.

“Come.” The man reaches out a hand, hovering it over your arm. You stare at the gloved limb for a moment before softly moving towards it with your breath caught in your throat, hesitant. König’s fingers delicately slide over the flesh, not closing around it until he feels your muscles loosen. “...Let’s get you warmer, Schatz, yes?” 

You blink.

“It’s cold here,” you mutter, letting him guide you along, his gray orbs always keeping you in the side of his vision. 

“Yes,” he agrees, nodding. “Very cold. Have you been to Germany during the winter before?”

Your head slightly shakes, bare feet padding along next to the pair of great boots—you lean closer unconsciously to the promise of warmth. König guides you away from the seeping blood on the floor and protects your eyes from the view of the bodies across the room with his own as a guard dog would. 

“No.” He notices your leaning and brings you nearer to him, letting you use him as a brace. The man knows the effects of shock, and you wear it as plainly as any other. “I’ve never been here before.” 

König hums and his free hand goes up to press into the radio, muttering in his native tongue. He releases the connection and asks as he blinks at you, “Do you require any immediate medical attention?” 

Again, you shake your head. 

“Where are the others?” You sink further into him, being guided to the front door, open to the soft snowfall and a chilled wind as your shoulder hunch. 

“Just outside,” König glances at the bodies across the room—the ones he’d riddled with bullets that still twitch even as the minutes draw longer. Gray eyes going from one to another, the house is heavy with the weight of dead men. Twelve in total and all getting colder just like the temperature outside. König didn’t feel bad about it, and when he’d finally busted open that door to find you and the women, he was satisfied with the blood on his hands. If hell were to be his home, he would walk there with a golden-fanged smile. 

But now wasn’t the time for that. 

“I will bring you to them,” the soldier speaks, snow blowing in from the entrance. “Slowly, now, Schatz, watch the steps. Allow me to help.”

You stop at the doorway, bringing a hand to your mouth to cover a haggard cough as König makes his way down the first concrete step ahead of you—large armored vehicles had pulled up from a ways away. The women huddle around one another, the rest of the soldiers sticking by them and opening the doors to the vehicles as the night gets only more cold and stormy.  

Gray eyes flicker for a moment down to your lack of proper protection, fingers twitching and tapping at his thigh as König remembers your expression the day he’d first met you. 

“Do you want me to carry you?” He says slowly, cautious in his approach. The man wasn’t stupid—he wouldn’t touch you unless you explicitly stated it was alright for him to do so. “I will be gentle, I promise. I do not wish for your feet to freeze, I...” He pauses as you blink, staring into his soul. “I…will not touch you if you do not tell me to do it. You have my word.” 

You continue to stand there for a moment, face unreadable before your head slowly turns to the vehicles in the street. 

The neighborhood was so normal it still caused you to wonder how no one had spoken up and seen something. Rows of connected houses now with their lights on—faces peeking from the windows like little children on Christmas morning; trying to get glimpses of Santa and the man’s reindeer. 

Finally, your gaze moves back to the hooded visage of König, able to see it better under the moonlight and the glare of falling snowflakes—a few of those frozen pieces sitting in the folds of the fabric.

“The hood scared them,” you utter about the others. König stiffens a bit, blinking at you but not looking away. “They’re used to people trying to hide their faces, but yours…with how large you are…”

“I understand.” König doesn't tear away his eyes. “...Did I scare you, Schatz?”

You don’t know why, but for what seems like the first time in years, the question makes you giggle. The beast of a man goes still with his feet on the ground, usually jittery and moving body captivated by the sound as it echoes over the night’s air—the puff of your breath as it moves around his hood; rustling it like leaves on a tree. 

Eyes widening only a sliver more, König’s breath is in his throat.

It was like listening to a bird’s song.

“Maybe only a little,” you whisper to him. “But it’s okay. I’m scared of most things.” 

He licks his lips, but you’re unable to see the slight quirk of them afterward. 

“Then I will make it up to you, yes?” He holds out a hand. “Let me? The car is warm and your friends are waiting for you. My men say they ask about your health.”

You softly nod, the shadow of the house trying to drag you back into it—its blackened arms reaching and latching onto old scars. When your hand connects with König's, the man takes his time putting one foot back to a step and scooping you up from behind your knees. With a tiny grunt, you settle at his chest, calming your heartbeat with the fact that you know he won’t hurt you. 

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

In his arms, your bare legs hang in the air, hand wrapping his neck, and with a slightly nervous look to you as your body hovers. König watches for a moment, hesitating before he begins walking to the same vehicle the other woman had been moved into out of the snowfall. 

“Can you tell me your name,” he asks to distract you from his hold, to get you more comfortable with him as his boots crunch through the packed powder on the ground—making sure to watch his step so as to not jostle you. 

“Everyone calls me Cat.” Gray eyes blink your way, visible skin painted black. König’s head tilts. You can’t help but find it endearing.

“Katze?” He hums, and you can imagine his lips moving slightly upwards from the innocent tone of his voice as if taken by the strange moniker. “That is…interesting.” 

You huff tinily, shivering again as your body moves to curl a little more. 

The soldier quickly reassures you. “Nearly there.” 

The vehicle is in front of you, and a nearby man opens the door for König as he carries you over. Nodding in thanks, the large individual eases you into one of the seats as the blast of warm air makes you sag—the other woman in there mulls closer, grabbing onto you and laughing through tears. 

Looking back at them, you smile and feel yourself get a bit teary-eyed as everything starts to slowly come into focus. 

Glancing outward, you stare at the snow that hits the dark hood of König, sticking and hanging off until the tiny white dots melt from the heat of his body. With his legs shifting he moves back a step and nods to you, eyes moving to stare at the ground for a moment. 

“We will take you to base. From there you will all be given dorms and fresh apparel to—”

“Thank you, König,” you interrupted him. He stares, lips parted with the half-tones of cut-off speech. “And please extend my thanks to your men as well.” 

“...Of course, Katze.” König stands straighter, always twitching fingers moving to the car door as engines start with a grinding roar. He nods again, the loose fabric swaying as the lenses of his rig stay firm at the movement. “There is no need to thank us. Relax. Sleep, if you wish to do it. The ride will be long.” The man’s gray eyes linger for a moment on your own, studying the bumps and small marks on your face. His hand tightens over the door as your gaze is stuck with his own; warmth blooming in his chest. He was glad he had found you. 

König slips out a soft, “There are blankets under the seats,” before he closes the door with a firm thump of metal. 

You can’t help but smile. 

'…Hostages were taken back to [REDACTED] and received minor medical attention on site. Housed in [REDACTED] and were admitted for needed treatments/medications - all details/names listed in File 3 Section 6 for future reference. DNA was placed into databases. 

Next of kin were informed of their family members’ position and/or state of being via phone call to the corresponding government official that then traveled through the appropriate channels once identified.'

You sit as a nurse hands you heating pads for your hands, which you take with a small thanks and clenched tightly, sucking every ounce of warmth from them to stop the shaking. Your body was heavy with the weight of new clothes and heated blankets, the room utterly normal in a way you’d not known for years. A corner table with books and a chess board—a connected bathroom stocked with amenities you may need; even a rug on the tile floor. You don’t know why that was shocking to you, but even the simplest thing was awe-inspiring. Your eyes had even slipped over a tiny nightlight near the door. 

It nearly made you cry. 

Your nurse moves back a bit, smiling down at you kindly. 

“Is there anything else you might need, Dear?” Her accent is prominent, though not as much as König’s had been. She waits for your answer diligently as the pitcher of water and a similar glass sit on your nightstand. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head. Your socked feet rub together like a grasshopper. “I think that’s all.” Your eyelids blink. “But…” you stop.

“What is it?” The lady asks gently, hands slack at her sides.

“The man—König,” you pause. “Is he here?” 

Blinking at you, the nurse tilts her head to the side in curiosity. “Not currently, no. At least, not in this specific building. He and his men are being debriefed across base. They will be there for a long while.” At your blank look, her brows slightly move up in accommodating comfort. “Would…you like me to tell him something for you?” 

Playing with the heating pads in your hands, your face gains a slightly embarrassed sheen. You liked the thought of being near König, truthfully. No one had made you feel safe like he did—him and his selfless action of a large coat given with no intention of getting anything in return. 

“Just,” you breathe softly. “Just that I’m sorry for losing his coat, and that I hope it wasn’t expensive.”

The nurse stares, very much confused but not about to question you. Her feet shift over the floor, and a light nod is sent your way. 

“Of course. I’ll tell him.” She motions to the bed with a hand and explains that whenever you wished to sleep, you were free to use the bed—and the TV was open to you as well, though you might not be able to understand the local stations. With that, she exited the room. 

Left alone, your head moves around the room slowly, taking it all in once more as the small bandages under your clothes pull at your flesh. The tears start slipping down your cheeks with no warning. 

Wrist coming up to your eyes, the limb presses in tightly, water staining the flesh as it dribbles down, and your lip quivers like a worm below it. You don’t know why you’re crying now and not when König had gotten you out of that townhouse. Why now, when there wasn’t anything prompting you to do so? 

But something was prompting you—the knowledge that you would never be going back to anyone who would mistreat you again. You had your own room. Good food. All the water that your stomach could drink down. A nightlight that pushes back the darkness even if you’re so used to living in it. 

Through your soft sniffles, chuckles move out, filling the space with a warm echo. You pull the blankets closer to you and collapse backward onto the mattress, smiling widely at the ceiling. 

That little invisible string dances as your heart pulls at it. 

—

König’s leg lightly jumps from under his table, signing off his name at the bottom of a report before he stands and rubs a hand over the top of his un-hooded head. He grabs the paper and slips it into a manila folder, hands pale with deep scars running the length of them like fissures in the earth. Deftly taking the item, he walks out of his office and begins moving down the length of the building, fingers tapping over the yellowish material with a small connection of flesh and thick envelope. 

Tap-tap, tappity-tap. 

His fingers were always fidgeting—moving, tensing, twitching. It was one of the reasons they never let him become a recon sniper; the more obvious being the blatant size of his body. Both of which had been the cause of much teasing throughout his childhood. 

But König’s mind was on something other than the report in his hands, and it was starting to become a very strong distraction. You. The women. Al-Qatala. 

He was angry he hadn’t acted outside of that coffee shop—angry he hadn't noticed the signs right in front of him even if he had been powerless to stop it then. The soldier’s jaw clenched, the strong muscles of his jaw roving. 

“Verdammt,” he hisses under his breath, glaring at the tile. “Should have done something.”

König gets to his commanding officer’s office and knocks, only staying long enough to hand him the folder with his finished report and leave once more. His mind wouldn’t stay silent tonight. There’s no doubt that he won’t be able to sleep unless he reassures himself that you and the others are okay. 

The man’s head shifts back to the email he had gotten from your assigned nurse, whom he’d taken it upon himself to know the name of when he carried you into the base’s hospital—Eva. 

‘...She says she wants to apologize for losing your coat…”

König’s heart had twisted at that—that was what you were concerned about? He had to tell you that it was alright, or else he would never know peace. Perhaps even ask how you’ve been treated so far, just to make sure that everything was comfortable for you. 

The man’s eyelids move slightly downward in thought, a pull at his heart to walk outside. He passes a few other soldiers in the hallway, nodding to them with a tiny greeting but unwilling to stop and talk. In only fatigues, König exits the main doors quickly, lightly moving into a jog as his body shivers at the sudden chill touching his arms under the black compression shirt. Under him the snow has grown deeper, the large lights illuminating the almost greenish reflections of the winter landscape of open roads and large buildings. 

Curfew was long past—this had to be quick. 

Just a check-in, König tells himself as he nears the hospital, his breath puffing in the air. Then I can wipe my hands of it. 

He slows as he nears the doors, huffing a breath as he pushes on the barrier, opening it with a squawk of hinges and metal. Entering, the front desk staff looked up at him in surprise, muttering his name in question.

“Katze?” He responds, pushing a hand over his head and feeling the melting snowflakes. His cheeks are a light shade of exposure-red, and inquisitive eyes shift over the two individuals slowly. “What room?”

The pair share a glance and tell him in the same breath. Room ten. 

It’s no sooner after that König finds himself there, hand hovering over the handle as the hallway clock ticks beside his right ear. His gray eyes blink at the door, feet shuffling from under him before he clears his throat under his breath, glancing away for a second in hesitation. 

Was this appropriate?

König didn’t have an answer, but the pull in his chest was tight and firm—he just needed to see you. A glimpse, nothing more. He raises his fist and raps his knuckles over the wood delicately, three tiny knocks that hit his ears like bullets from a gun; the bullets he’s put into pathetic Al-Qatala bodies and watched burst like sacks of fluid. 

He waits, hands going to grasp at his shirt collar, pushing out a low breath to calm himself. 

After a long moment, his foot taps the floor, blinking. Again he knocks—a bit louder. 

“She is sleeping, you evolutionsbremse,” he utters, accent low and grating. “Leave her alone.” But even if you are, his nerves peek their head over the brimstone wall of his brain. 

With his fingers caressing the handle, slowly moved to clutch it fully, swallowing the metal in his grip. König takes a deep breath into his lungs, letting it fill them up. Again, he tells himself, just a check-in. 

He twists the doorknob and sets his forearm on the wood, pushing the barrier open. 

König moves so that his body makes no noise, even with how large it is as he angles the side of his head through the opening. He finds a large mound of blankets atop the bed—stacked and layered so heavily that he has to blink in surprise at how you can breathe under them; because you were under them. 

Gray eyes make out the small sliver of skin peaking out from the side of the bed—fingers—and the top of your forehead near the pillows formed around your skull. Unconsciously, a soft smile works its way over König’s lips until he finds himself chuckling.

“Niedlich,” he mutters, scars over his face shifting as he speaks. 

Sighing lowly, König pulls back his head, beginning to close the door once more.

“König…?” Your tiny voice makes him halt like he had in the townhouse. 

Eyes wide and lips parted at being caught, the door remains open, only a sliver visible to your vision as your furrowed brows are stuck at the barrier. A red sheen moves across the soldier’s face in a slow sweep of embarrassment that goes bone deep.

With a lick of his lips, König re-opens the door slightly.

“I did not mean to wake you, Katze.” He finds your eyes and nods to you. “I apologize. Go back to sleep—you must be tired.” 

 “Wait,” you utter, moving your head fully out from under the blankets. König pauses, eyes staring as his other hand comes up to itch at the back of his neck. 

“What is it,” the man asks, opening the door fully and moving inside. “Do you need anything?” 

The question had hit you in your thin slumber, interrupted only partially by the opening of your door to the familiar pull of gray eyes and a strong build. A buzz-cut head. You take a slow breath to wake yourself up more, watching him from your bed. “...Did you know that I would be in that house?”

König tilts his head at the question, sighing slightly and glancing at the clock inside of the room on your nightstand. He frowns. 

“No,” he explains gently, coming closer. “No, I did not. I do not get told such things—only where to shoot and where not to.” The man tries a small smile, kneeling on one leg down by the bed and staring into your sleepy eyes. “But I am glad I found you again, yes? You had me worried.”

“You were worried?” You can’t quite grasp it.

“Ja,” he nods. “Your eyes—they have stuck with me, Schatz, you understand?” 

Your eyebrows pull up your face, blinking in shock. 

“...Yours, too,” you confess. König’s heart flutters, listening until your lips have fallen still. “They’re very nice, König.”

He goes sheepish, lips flicking up into a smile and his eyes daring away for a moment. “You can thank my mother for them, then.” He chuckles. “I have stolen the family's eyes, I was told.”

You chuckle with him, hand coming to rub at your cheek. A silence falls between the two of you.

“I don’t sleep well,” you tell him in the relative darkness, light from the hallway and your night light illuminating the dips and bone structure of his face. “I was awake when you opened the door.” 

He nods after a moment. “Ja.” A pause. “I don’t either…Nightmares?” 

You watch him before nodding tinily. 

“Ah,” he mutters. “They are not pleasant, I’m sorry that they have been plaguing you. Do you…” König wonders if he should leave—this was far more than he had anticipated. “Do you wish for me to stay?” 

 Why had he said that?

The string between the two of you tightens evermore, gaining another thread just as it would for the years to come until it became as unbreakable as steel.

“I don’t want to be a nuisance,” you begin but are quickly interrupted with a shake of a square head and a huff of a sharp nose.

“You are not. Do not call yourself such.” His accent deepens with emotion, eyes narrowing as the dark brows on his face pull in. “If you want me to stay, I will stay. Wake you if you become shaky, yes? Keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“But what about you?” Your voice moves around the room as König stands and goes to the table in the back, shifting one of the chairs so that it’s angled your way. You shift so you can watch him sit back, grunting as his legs move out in front of him, opening so he can be more comfortable. He needed a bigger chair, but he wasn’t going to complain about it. 

“I’m not tired, Schatz.” A lie. His muscles are heavy, and he longs for his bed in the barracks. He pushes out, “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

You stare for a long while, studying him and how he fidgets in his seat of choice. A small laugh meets the man’s ears as he crosses his arms over his chest. König pauses, blinking over in confusion. His lips move upwards slowly. 

“What are you laughing at, then, hm?” 

“You look like you’re about to break it,” you mutter, head nuzzling the pillow under you as fatigue claws its way under your skin. 

König huffs, fingers twitching over the meat of his biceps as he slouches. He nods jokingly. “Perhaps,” he shrugs, the window behind him letting a slight tinge of cold air in from outside. “It would not be the first, I’m afraid, though it would be quite the embarrassment to do it in front of you, Katze.” He smirks. “But I’ll say, hitting my head on door frames hurts more than letting my arsch kiss the ground.” 

You laugh under your heap, your body jerking to the movement of your lungs. 

“I bet,” you say, fingers grasping one of your blankets and pulling it closer. “It’s a funny image.”

“You can laugh all you want,” König jokes, eyes soft as they gaze at you. “It does not bother me.” 

Your sweet sounds of amusement waft out from under the crack in the door, where a small group of curious nurses mull and listen with glances to one another. A doctor moves past the hallway where they stand, and all scatter on quick feet. 

'…Signed,

[REDACTED]

SUBMITTED: 0517, 25, November 2021

END OF MISSION REPORT ‘RED FREEDOM’

RETURNING TO SELECTION MENU…

STAND BY…'

It’s only after most of the other women leave—sent home to awaiting families or loved ones—that you know your time is coming to a close here in Berlin, Germany. While you’re excited to put this behind you, you can’t help but feel a bit…lost. 

There’s something that keeps you here, on this base, until you’re the last out of all of them, waiting. And then you’re given the green light to go—go home—and suddenly you have a backpack full of necessities and you’re closing the door to your room with the little nightlight’s plastic body pushing against your spine. Yet, you stand in the hallway for a long minute, fingers interlocked. 

You take a long, deep, breath. 

Over the weeks of recovery, König had been a constant companion when he wasn’t needed. He had eased you back into a comfortable state, letting you somewhat lose the black-and-white view you had gained of the world. But there was only so much he could do, even if his soft eyes were still stuck in your dreams—the good ones, of course. 

You needed to go home, and, today, the C-17 was whirring on the tarmac, waiting for you to be transported to a military base far from here where you would be processed and, ultimately, let go. 

Let go. It was jarring to think about, all of that freedom. What would you do with it? Right now, you don’t have the faintest clue. It was the best feeling you can remember having.

Smiling, you take one last look at the room behind you and walk on. 

At the entrance, you say a heartfelt ‘thank you’ to the nurses and doctors in broken German, shaking their hands as Eva kisses your forehead and whispers how happy she is to have had you here for such little time—you know what she means and you chuckle with her at the double-edged sword. 

König waits by the door, holding it open with…you blink at the item in his hands as well as his sudden appearance. Canvas fabric. A coat.

The coat. 

“I had to have it processed,” he says, smiling as you gape at him. “Very long process. It was found in the closet in the townhouse.” 

“Then why are you handing it to me,” you ask, tilting your head and walking closer. 

“I gave it to you, did I not?” The man hums, head tilting as he motions with it again. “It’s a good coat, Katze. Winters get cold.” Gray eyes crinkle gently. “I would hate for you to shiver, wherever it is that you end up, yes?”

You shake your head, cheeks hot. But your hands don’t hesitate to grasp the item, König’s hold on it remains fast, though, and you blink at him as you both keep it gently clasped like it’s worth its weight in gold. 

König stares at you, the door still kept open behind him. He opens and closes his mouth for a moment as you tilt your head. 

“Keep it safe for me,” is what he ends with, but his expression tells you he’s not talking about the coat. 

It makes your arms tingle—your heart skips a beat. 

“I’ll be sure it never gets lost,” you smile warmly, eyes malleable as the make of their color glints. There is a connection to this man that transcends words, and it is tied to you just as heavily as it is to him; unexplainable, incomprehensible, non-describable. 

Enigmatic. 

König’s reverential face is soft with care. 

“Good,” he mutters, unable to look away. “Very good.”

Clearing his throat, his grays dart to the floor, shifting his feet to move backward. He pushes open the door wider for you, and you hold your backpack in one hand as you shift past him and slip into his coat. 

It was exactly how you remembered it, and you sank into the fabric with a thankful sigh and a fluttering of your lashes. You shift the bag back over your shoulders, letting the straps fall into the bulk of the extra material. 

The snow wasn’t falling today, and the ground was shoveled of any white powder too. On the air, you can hear the whir of the C-17. 

König comes up beside you, a hand hovering over the small of your back as he guides you along. For the most part, the walk to the tarmac is silent with the weight of the future. You had no phone. No socials. You didn’t even know if you wanted any, to be honest. Your mind had convinced you that a good bout of soul-searching was exactly what you needed. And you had to do that alone. 

Your lips are thin as your legs take you closer to the plane, König’s scent stuck into the stitches of the coat and covered your senses. 

At the ramp, he stops as your feet take you onto the metal. Closing your eyes for a moment, you turn and lock gazes with him—gray hiding away what other, more human, emotions to be found. It was a slate of carefully crafted acceptance, and your own followed soon after. 

It had to be this. The string wouldn’t break, no, but it had to be stretched to such a point to come back stronger.

“Thank—”

“Don’t,” he says, not blinking, looking up at you. 

You smile. “What do you want me to say, then?” 

“You don’t have to say anything to me.” You hadn't known it then, but the both of you had truly thought that this would be the last of your meetings. It produced a pulse in both of your hearts that would never be told aloud. “....Live well,” König utters. “Heal, Mein Schatz.” 

The soldier wasn't one to give his chances to hope. 

Your eyes follow as he backs up, moving away as you stare. In his head, König pleads with you to stop and give him a reprieve from the hypnosis of your gaze, the addictive movement of your head as it tilts to the side. 

Live well. 

You send him a smile, a delicate thing, and then you back up a step and turn, disappearing into the darkness. 

The string follows, and it continues to do so even as your hands slip into your pockets hours later, bumping into the small form of a black flip phone. The note hidden inside of it. 

 ‘For whenever you find what you’re looking for.’

'REQUEST FOR ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE

REQUESTED BY: [REDACTED]

ENTERED: DECEMBER 15, 2021

TIME: 1422

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED….

RETURNING TO FILE SELECT MENU…

FILE SELECTED….

TRANSLATING…

STAND BY…

REQUEST OF HONORABLE ADMINISTRATIVE DISCHARGE OF [REDACTED] APPROVED ON JANUARY 2, 2022

OPEN FILE?...

REQUEST CANCELED…

SYSTEM SHUTTING DOWN'

You sit in a coffee shop in Berlin, Germany, by the window. It wasn’t just any coffee shop, but you try not to think about all of that. It was all in the past—three years, now. You like to think you’d learned something in that time.

“Danke schön,” you say to the woman who brings you your drink, nodding kindly. You take a small sip, humming and winking at her teasingly. “Perfekt.” 

She chuckles, wiping her hands on her apron. “Möchten Sie noch etwas anderes dazu?”

“Nein, nein,” you shake your head, waving a hand that soft bumps the flip phone on the table. “Danke.” 

The lady walks away, and you take another sip of the hot beverage, never put off by the heat. 

It was winter again, and your eyes followed the flakes as they fell from a cloudy sky, finding the beauty in it easily as you sat inside. The scarf around your neck is loose—your gifted coat open. You smile to yourself and hum, watching people walk past outside, thinking about their lives and how they live them. 

A large form travels out from a shop across the street, a plastic bag in his loose grip. He was not small, no, this man was a beast of height and strength alike. The loping, canid-like, walk was accented by the twitch of his fingers over his quarry. 

Your wide eyes stay stuck to him for a long moment as he moves to the crosswalk, people shifting out of his way as he ignores them. Familiarity strikes like lighting—a buzz down your spine that leaves you straightening.

After a long moment, a breathless laugh sneaks out of you.

There were just some things that people were never meant to understand.

Your hand places your cup back on the table, picking up the old flip phone and pushing it open. Your thumb runs the keypad, moving to the only contact that had ever been entered into the device. 

Pressing, you move it to your ear as you watch with a soft expression, heart pattering. 

Across the way, the man tenses, hand patting his leg before the other hand moves inside his pocket and shifts the item out. People walk away, moving to the other side of the crosswalk as he stares at the contact. 

A minute passes, and all the while you hold your breath.

He presses and moves the phone to his ear, staying as still as stone. As still as a man afraid his hood might scare a group of terrified women. 

His voice graces your ear.

“...Katze?” You beam, trapped in the warmth of the coat around your shoulders.

“How do you feel about coffee, König?” 

Blue-gray eyes had never been more beautiful than when they snapped up to meet yours.

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[luvwestwood]

"Thank You For Your Service" - Toji Fushiguro, Ryomen Sukuna

4,341 words.

warnings. nsfw, firemen! toji/sukuna, food-play, oral sex, p in v, mildly dubious con, double penetration, unprotected sex, throat fucking, rough play/sex, praising kink, creampie, degradation/dumbification (slut, whore)

notes. as an owner of your own independent bakery, you deliver your local firemen some sweet treats as a 'thanks' for their service. although a few of the men at the station decide to have a little fun with you. aka toji and sukuna fuck you silly and stuff you with their cum like a profiterole. also this has been in my draft for ages and I wanted to post it before I get back to classes 😭💀

banner cred. @/yunonoai on twt/ig

After successfully balancing the cash register, you glance over to the clock on the wall that reads sharply, '4:30' in the afternoon.

The rest of the staff, aka the young students you've hired to work in your bakery were long gone, as you had let them off quite early today.

You walked over to the display fridges to see what's remained of the cakes from today. As expected, there were a good few things left such as profiteroles and small dessert cakes.

"Mmm, maybe I should give these to the firemen down at the station."

You smiled as you came up with the sustainable idea to gift the local fire station a box of sweet treats as a thank you for their service. I mean, who wouldn't want free cakes?

You hummed as you tied the pink ribbon over the box. Hopefully you put enough in there, you knew that those working at the fire station were hardworking people, so they needed a lot to refuel.

Glancing to the clock again, only fifteen minutes have passed. You decided it was time to make your way to the fire station. You made sure everything was left prepared for the opening staff tomorrow. Grabbing your coat from the staff room, you took the rest of your belongings, and the nicely wrapped box, making your way to the fire station.

The walk wasn't long, as the station was only located down the avenue. They put the station in a place to make sure it was accessible for everyone. It was convenient for you at this moment too.

Coming to the front of the fire station, you were met with the garage shutters open. You weren't sure if you should just walk in through there, or go around to the visitors entrance. The lights were on though, and you could hear a faint chatter coming from the inside.

Deciding to take a peek, you could see two men sitting in chairs and talking, which you assumed were the firemen on duty today.

You couldn’t really make out their faces, but you could tell one had coral hair, the other, a dark black. At the same time, you mentally slapped yourself for freezing in one spot, wondering why you were unable to move.

Your eyes scanned their bodies, the muscular physique they owned had only been complimented by the fitted navy shirt they were wearing. You could tell both had put in the work at the gym. For once, you wished you were in a burning building right now.

Suddenly, the coral haired man looked in your direction, and by now you could make out some strange tattoos on his face. You gasp, startled at the fact he had caught you staring for awhile like some idiot. Curious, the raven haired man turns his head as well, and speaks.

"Well.. what do we have here?" he continued, "You lost, doll?" his voice so deep, it only went straight through your ears, down to your pussy.

By now, you had the attention of the two men, and it sort of felt belittling in a way. Part of you wanted to turn around and leave, as if nothing happened. Or maybe you could act like you walked into the wrong place.

Gulping, you clutched onto the corners of the box out of nervousness. "No.. I work at the local bakery down the block. I came here to uhm...” Your voice trails off, you had forgotten what to say.

The coral haired one butts into the conversation.

"Oh Toji, you've made her all nervous. She's so soft spoken now." He motions his hand for you to come closer, the so called 'Toji' rolling his eyes at what the other had said.

Hesitant, you stepped through the garage entrance, now hearing it close behind you as you walked closer to the two men. I guess there’s no turning back now..

You still didn't know what the coral haired one was called.

As you finally stood in front of them, they respectfully did the same, standing from the chairs they were just on.

Your stomach churned as you noticed the difference between your heights, the men now towering over you had only made the nauseous feeling worse. It had caused you to look up at them, like some lost puppy. Am I really this sex deprived?

You could have sworn that you felt something purr down there as the so-called Toji crosses his arms, his massive biceps on show. His navy fitted shirt practically sculpted over his muscles.

Begging to get out of this place that made it more difficult to withstand each minute, you spoke first.

“I work at the bakery down the street,” you continued after a breath, “..and I just wanted to give you these goodies as a thank you for your service to this city.”

Wanting to compensate for discomforting you earlier, Toji speaks. “Ain’t that sweet? S’kuna, take the box and put it behind me on the table.”

Sukuna, gently takes the box from your grasp. You felt your face warm up as his more bigger, calloused hands made contact with yours. He smiled at you, possibly for a silent thanks. You couldn't help but do the same.

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you blushed. Flattered that these men were praising you. “Oh, it’s nothing really..” you slowly took a step back. “Anyways, I better get going.”

Toji had only kept his eyes on you, as if he were to devour you at any moment. Leaning against the table behind him, Toji didn't dare to look at anything else in the garage. Sukuna was busy on the other hand, toying with the pink ribbon on the box.

“..Leavin’ already? Isn't that a shame, I thought that you yourself came with these desserts.” Toji snickered, looking at Sukuna behind his shoulder for a response.

Your lashes fluttered, in utter shock you were speechless.

Sukuna, could only laugh at Toji’s cheeky joke that was laced with filth. His own eyes watched you as he sucked the cake’s cream off his fingertips.

Awkwardly laughing, you brush off what just happened. “..I really.. need to get going. I have a bus to catch.” You lied, thinking that it would be able to get you out of here.

“C’mon, it’s not everyday we get the opportunity to share these cakes with a pretty girl. Right, ‘kuna?”

“Yeah, today’s our lucky day.” Sukuna hums, his sentence ending with a smirk.

Biting your lip, you thought about it for a moment. I mean, there wouldn’t be anything else for you to do as soon as you come home.

You knew you were going to regret this, but part of you wanted to stay. I mean, what could go wrong? “Mmm, okay fine, I guess I have a few minutes to spare..”

Toji grins, the scar on his mouth moving with his lips as you walk back closer to the two. "I promise, we'll make the most of it."

He stands back from the table, casually grabbing you by the waist and swiftly setting you atop the table as if you were a doll. You could only hiccup, taken aback by his sudden gesture. You immediately tug down on your skirt due to it rising up just now.

Flustered and warm, you made the sensible decision to take off your coat. Toji only takes it from your possession, setting the coat down on a chair nearby.

Your legs dangled off the edge of the table, slowly swinging back and forth, taking a few breaths to calm your nerves as you watch the men’s next move.

Toji stood in front, facing you, almost between your legs as he reached over to the box of desserts on your right side, grabbing one of the few cream cakes.

Sukuna on the other hand, makes small talk with you. “You make these yourself, beautiful?”

“Oh no, not just by myself. I have a few other staff at my bakery who of course help out.”

He nods slowly in approval, wiping the rest of the ganache off his hands using the pants of his cargo overalls.

You bit your lip, asking a sudden question out of curiosity . “Can I ask, where’s the rest of your crew?.. Is it just you two?”

Toji, busy taking a bite of the cake rolls his eyes. “That doesn’t matter right now,” the question stays unanswered as he changed topics, “God, the cream in this- whatever the fuck this is- tastes great. What you call these again?”

"It's called a profiterole," You watched as Toji took a huge bite, licking the cream off the corners of his mouth.

He uses his finger to swipe a small dollop of the cake’s cream onto his fingertips, bringing it closer to your mouth.

“Here, try it for yourself, It’s the best thing I’ve had.”

Does he expect me to suck it off his finger just like that..?

You knew better, this man was a stranger. Should you really be going around casually sucking on men's fingers? “Oh, I don’t know if I should-”

“Don’t leave me hangin’ doll! creams gonna slide off my finger..”

You shyly gabbed onto his hand, sucking the cream off his fingertip. Toji would be lying if he said that a tent didn’t just form in his cargos. He could feel his cock straining against his pants, begging to come out.

"'Atta girl.." Toji purred as he felt your hot mouth wrap around his finger.

He could only imagine what it would be like if you were to suck your own juices off his fingers after they had just been inside you.

This whole time, Sukuna was quietly watching everything unfold. He could feel a tinge of jealousy wash through him, angered at the fact that Toji was all handsy with you, and poor Sukuna couldn’t get a turn.

His index finger left your lips with a pop, his eyes never leaving yours. You heard Sukuna shuffle around with the box, his footsteps coming close to both where you and Toji were.

He gently pushed Toji aside, and unfortunately the raven haired sex fanatic took offense to that, Toji stabbing daggers into the back of Sukuna's head as he replaced his spot.

You shivered as Sukuna slithered his one hand onto your bare leg, the other hand holding another one of the cakes.

"How 'bout you share this one with me? Say ahh.." He brings the cake closer to your face, your face heating up from his hand slowly caressing the velvety skin on your thigh.

You grabbed onto his hand to stop it, "I'm really full, thank you th-"

Sukuna's hand suddenly moved down to your chest, smearing cake all over your blouse. The rest of the cake falling onto your skirt.

You jittered as you felt the cold cream manage to dribble down your sternum behind the fabric, a high pitch gasp escaping your lips out of discomfort.

"Oh my.." he continued with a devilish grin, "My hand slipped."

You gasped, your blouse now all ruined with red velvet cake and buttercream. "It's.. okay.. I'm heading home anyways."

"No, no-“ Toji behind him stepped in, "We gotta do something about that."

You tried to reassure them; using your hands as support to try hop off the table, "Guys, I promise it's nothing seriou-" but unfortunately Sukuna grabs the side of your thighs, setting you back on the table.

"Yeah no," thinking, Sukuna crosses his arms. "We gotta take that top off. In fact, take everything off."

Toji smirked, and let out a laugh. "I agree,"

Sukuna's large hands reached for the buttons of your blouse, pulling the top apart, the remaining fragments thrown to the other side of the garage.

The tiny buttons fly everywhere as you wince at the sight that unfolded before your eyes. You were able to see the evident change in the two men's demeanor as their eyes landed on the black lacy bra that was now on show.

"Ah-" Sukuna cooed, "She got some between her tits. Get this girl some tissue."

Toji walked around the garage in search of a tissue roll, and you watched him like a hawk, using your arms to cover your chest. "Can't seem to find any 'round here.."

Unable to form a sentence, you gape your mouth open at Toji, then to Sukuna.

"Well that's too bad.." he reaches for your arms, pulling them apart to expose your cake-stained chest back to him. “I wouldn’t mind licking it off.”

“Wait- I don’t think that’s-“ you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want this badly right now.

“Shh…” His hands snake down your chest to your abdomen, gently pushing you to lie against the table.

Your nipples go hard due to the contact of your back with the table’s cold surface, luckily they weren’t able to see that.

You felt as Sukuna’s wet tongue touches your stomach, slowly gliding up towards your cleavage that was stained with cream. You gasp, a breathy moan escaping your lips. That was enough to tell them both that you wanted this as much as they did.

You immediately grab onto his hair, and you could feel the smirk form against your skin.

You heard Toji’s footsteps come closer to your side of the table, he was suspiciously quiet for the time being.

Sukuna would only look up at you as he licked off the creamy residue all over your chest. The warmth from his tongue was ticklish, but this scene arousing enough to have a pool form between your legs.

“Think we gotta take this tiny skirt off too..” you felt him roughly grab on your skirt to slide it off, but not strong enough to rip it apart.

You could only clamp your thighs together, as the rest of your garments were stripped of you, the outcome being you all flustered that you were so exposed in-front of the two men.

Sukuna uses his hand to force your legs open, his head moving between your legs.

Until you felt another pair of hands clutch onto your panties and- rip!

You shudder as your bare pussy was met with the cold air of the garage, hoping to feel Sukuna’s warm, wet mouth but you were mistaken.

It was more cake.

Toji had smeared a Victoria-sponge dangerously below your lower abdomen.

Toji could only palm himself through his pants as he watches Sukuna devour the cake that was making its way towards your clit.

His tongue made its way to your dripping hole, slowly fucking into you back and forth.

“T-that feels.. so good..” you breathe out, Sukuna’s cock straining against the fabric of his pants as he heard this.

Unable to watch anymore, Toji stops palming himself through his pants. He makes his way to the box of desserts, disassembling a jam donut, scooping the strawberry glaze into his hands.

Horny, and jealousy filling his body like mad, he walks behind the table where your head was almost hanging off.

He eagerly unzips his cargos with an unoccupied hand, grabbing for his cock that has been nothing but a nuisance to him these past few minutes.

Too busy moaning in pleasure, you looked up to Toji, your vision of him upside down as you were laid against the table.

You could only watch as Toji’s heavy, thick cock slaps against your forehead, his jam covered hand wrapping around the base and making a mess of it on his length.

You felt his hand smear the strawberry residue all over your chest again, which was most likely for Sukuna to be able to lick.

“Better open wide you slut, or else it won’t fit.” You felt Toji’s hand grab onto your jaw, forcing mouth to open wider.

You moan as his cock fills your mouth so full, the sweet jam from the donut coating your taste buds. Toji wraps his hands around your neck, his two thumbs caressing your throat as he fucked his cock into it.

He groans, “Fuck, just like that..” throbbing as he felt the outline of his cock form against the skin of your throat. Squelching noises could only be heard as he staggeringly rut his hips back and forth.

You could hear Toji grunting above you from the sensation of the vibrations going to straight to his cock as you moaned. You felt Sukuna on the other end lapping at your clit, fucking you with two fingers of his fingers at the same time.

Taking a minute to close your eyes, you indulged in the pleasure you were receiving at both ends. At the same time, you were unable to tell who ripped your bra off you.

Toji pulls his cock away from your throat, leaving you to gasp for air. You shut your eyes tightly, disappointed at the empty feeling you were left with. Warm spit trickled down your face, Toji caressing your cheek but only to slap in after.

Toji doesn’t forget to plant a wet kiss on your lips before pulling away. You whimper as he leaves your side, but only this time he starts walking over to Sukuna’s end.

Sukuna pulled away from your dripping holes too, you wince and moan, praying that this isn’t the final moment that they’d have hands on you. You were too scared that the fun was cut short.

Using your elbows to prop yourself up, you watch the two men, speechless. You try to use this opportunity to catch your breath, but your head only falls back down onto the table. You stay sprawled out on the table, looking up at the bright lights of the garage.

“Feel like it’s time to stuff some cock in that pussy, don’t cha think?” Toji speaks, voice raspy from groaning.

“I think so too. But I’m fucking her first,” Sukuna replies.

A disagreeing Toji snaps back. “Nah, I want to.”

“Aren’t you forgetting we can both fuck her at the same time?” Sukuna suggests, your eyes widening at the thought of two men stuffing you full of cock at the same time.

You could almost predict that they could break you into two, and you have no idea how big any of them are yet. You use your elbows to prop yourself up again, your face showing an expression of disbelief. “I- I can’t do that.. I don’t think I can.”

Of course, they'd hardly take that as an answer. “We’ll see that for ourselves.”

You felt Sukuna grab onto your thighs once more, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pulled you towards him. He effortlessly picks you up, carrying you over his shoulder and walking towards what seemed like one of the fire trucks.

You heard a door open, Sukuna placed you onto a longer leather seat that was behind the driver in the truck cab.

Hearing a door open behind you, Toji follows inside, crawling onto the same leather seat. He lays back, hands pumping his cock as he watches you from the other side of the seat.

Dazed, you could only immediately crawl onto Toji’s lap, straddling him. He grins, his hands squeezing onto the soft skin of your tits and fondling as you waited for Sukuna to join.

Sukuna climbs onto the seat but this time behind you. Toji slightly moves his head to the side, taking a peek at Sukuna. Too bad, Sukuna was already busy fucking your ass with one of his fingers, making sure you were ready to be stuffed of his cock.

Jealous, Toji grips onto the doughy skin on your hips, aligning his tip with your dripping cunt before slowly sliding in.

You let out a long string of moans and curses, as you felt his thick length stretch you out as you sink down onto his cock.

“God, you feel so good around my cock. ‘S like your pussy’s made for it.”

Hearing a zip behind you, you disregarded it, as you were still trying to adjust to Toji’s size. This was cut short as you were caught by surprise by Sukuna filling you up with his own cock, this time in your ass. He was thick, but not thick as Toji. Although the length made up for it, you would think that he was all the way in but in reality it was only half.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as both of their cocks were stuffed deeply in both of your holes.

Your hands clutched onto the fabric of Toji’s compression shirt, wrinkling it all together.

Toji placed his soles flat onto the seat, using this support to harshly thrust into you upwards more faster than before as Sukuna behind staggered into you at a more slowed pace. Although he wanted you bad, he made sure to be gentle. He just wanted to indulge every inch of you.

Toji on the other hand, bottomed into you balls deep, his thumb cheekily creeping over to your clit, rubbing in continuous circles as they both fucked into you.

“Fucking slut,” Sukuna spits out, voice shaky as the plush flesh of your ass only clenched around him. “Both holes stuffed full of men’s cocks who you don’t know?”

Sukuna reached for your hair, grabbing a handful and pulling you back against his chest.

You whimpered, snaking one of your hands behind to his nape. Sukuna leaned in for a kiss, only to pepper more down your neck to your collarbone.

Toji kept his pace, which as quite impressive. You moaned back into Sukuna’s cheek, feeling a knot twist and form in the pit of your stomach.

“I-It’s too much- I can’t…” Your hand leaves the back of his neck, moving up higher to clutch on his coral hair as the immense pleasure had only washed through you.

Toji below you speaks, “You think we should let her cum?”

Slapping your face as he started to slow down, he could see you were drunk of their cocks. Fortunately, Sukuna was unable to see this as he was busy behind.

Toji thrusted into you balls deep each time in a consecutive pattern, bullying your cervix as your body jolted up and down along with your tits.

Sukuna moved his hands back down, away from your hair to be able to spread your cheeks apart. Groaning as he watched his cock slip in and out of your ass, he makes a decision. “Fuck, I think so. She’s been such a good girl this whole time.”

Toji grins, his hand moving to your cheek but this time roughly caressing your lip with his thumb. “You hear that doll? He says you were such a good girl.”

You were unable to form a sentence, your brains were fucked out at this point and Toji, wasn’t happy with this.

“Fucking answer me you whore,” surprised, you came back to your senses as Toji slapped your cheek harshly, leaving a red mark on your face.

“..Please, let me cum..” you hiccuped, “I can’t take it anymore.”

You watched Toji flash his same old devilish smile through your tear filled eyes, both of their paces picking up again.

Your moans turned shaky, the slapping of balls against your skin and wet noises filling the taxi cab.

Toji went back to lazily rubbing circles on your clit as both of them fucked you, making sure that you would cum on time with them.

This time, Sukuna’s hand wrapped around your throat, bringing your ear close to his mouth. “You want us to breed you? Is that what you want?”

Lost in a trance, you just went with whatever. You didn’t care anymore, you just wanted to be stuffed full of them forever.

You could only nod, but Sukuna couldn’t take it as an answer.

“Use your words baby, tell me what you want.” His warm breath tickled your ear, Toji’s thrusting making it difficult for you to speak.

You held onto Sukuna’s wrist around your throat, “I want.. both of your cum.. in me..”

Although your hand fell back onto Toji’s shirt as Sukuna gently pushed you back down. You sighed out loud, sobbing quietly as you felt his cock slide out of you.

Toji’s deep thrusts were the only thing you could feel, “Fuck, I’m coming.” He grunted beneath you, until you felt Sukuna’s cock entering the same hole Toji was in.

As you moaned out louder than before, the pleasure too hard to bear. You could feel yourself turning into jelly, your hands wrinkling the fabric of Toji’s shirt once again.

Your voice strained as you felt both of their cocks shoot warm, ropes of cum into you. Your orgasm comes crashing down on you, your chest heaving as Toji’s grip on your waist remained, but Sukuna’s hands slowly lost grip on your hair.

Both of them filled up your hole with seed to the point that it leaked out of you in no time.

Your eyes completely rolled back for tenth time this hour, feeling them both twitch inside of you, the white fluid leaking onto the black leather seats of the truck cab.

Sukuna leaves your hole first, moaning at sight of the generous amounts of cum that dripped down his length to his shaft as he slid out.

Followed by Toji, you could feel his cock slip out too, until his finger made its way back inside, making sure to fuck the escaping load back into you.

Both of them had left their mark in you, stretching you out so fully that no cock in the future can impress you but theirs.

You felt like a total cock sleeve, and your body yearned for more. But honestly, it felt like you were gonna break apart. So maybe next time.

All three of you stayed in the same spots, the windows were now fogged up to the point the entire truck cab smelled of sex.

“I can definitely point out one thing you and ‘em profiteroles have in common.”

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷