#pepper writes

[heazueken]

Can I believe You? - Part 1

*ೃ༄ summary: Nanami leaves behind the Jujutsu world fresh out of high school and reader resents him fir abandoning not only you but Haibara too. warning(s): body horror, violence, graphic violence, major character death, angst...lots of angst, mdni pairing(s): nanami kento/reader wc; 4.1k a/n: got the courage to post this hear too but you can find this on my ao3 too! there is a lot of angst in this...just a warning

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“Did I ever tell you that you’re my type, Y/N?” Haibara says your name cheerfully when you set your lunch tray down on the table. A laugh escapes you, finding joy in how brash and unapologetically blunt Haibara was. It was one of the many things you had admired about him.

“And why is that, Haibara?” Geto, Gojo, and Shoko side eyed you two, their ears perking to listen in on the conversation. A blush washes over you, the attention being all on you now and you nervously poke and prod at the food in front of you. Nanami pays no mind, Shoko had decided that he better spend his time massaging her shoulder than listen to you and Haibara blabber on.

“Because, you eat well, you’re strong and you’re super pretty!” You laugh, so innocent, so plain. Haibara felt like such a normal person that he seemed to stick out like a sore thumb as a classmate learning jujutsu. You admired him for his stubbornness to prove people wrong and always study hard, put his own life before your own.

“Well then, if I’m your type, how come you haven’t asked me out on a date?” He smiles and lets you eat a little more before he answers, folding his arms over the cafeteria table.

“I don’t ask out girls who aren’t interested in me back.”

“How do you know I’m not interested in you?”

You watch his eyes flicker to the side at Nanami, then back at you. A silent discussion between the two of you occurs and your cheeks flush in realization. You curse at Haibara has he immediately falls into a fit of giggles, you throw your rice at him, Gojo hears the commotion and helps you empty your plate on him while Shoko laughs, Geto sits there quietly watching and Nanami is scolding the two of you to stop.

“Geto hasn’t been looking so good,” Haibara mentions to you and Nanami. He’s sitting on the stairs in the school hallway and lays his head in his head, sighing. 

“I tried to cheer him up, I’m not sure it worked, though.”

You put a comforting hand on Haibara’s arm, rubbing your thumb over his uniform.

“You tried. That’s the best anyone can do. I’m sure you helped a little.” Haibara gave you a weak, genuine smile and you knew you gave him a little comfort in that moment.

You heard about what happened from Nanami. The mission going terribly wrong, the Star Plasma Vessel - who you learned to be a girl Rika - dead. Assassinated by a man who had threatened their lives, left the both of them on the verge of death, thankfully Gojo was able to use his reverse cursed technique. Geto was left with the sight of watching Rika die right in front of him, pool of blood forming beneath the girl after Geto had offered to take her back home, offered to let her live the life she had deserved. Of course the trauma of that would send anyone into a spiral, you knew of that, and yet, it seemed like no one else could understand why he had been in such a funk. You remember Gojo taking you aside to talk about it, mentioning that he had asked him if anything was wrong, that he looked thin and wasn’t eating. 

“And he…it’s like he forced himself to look at me and I could see that fake smile when he told me he was fine. That it’s the fatigue the heat brings him,” He shrugs his shoulders passively.

“Why didn’t you push him to tell you more?” You demand, trying to meet eyes with Gojo but with the sunglasses it was impossible. You couldn’t see the look in them but you saw his eyebrows slowly come together, creasing the skin.

“Because, I want to believe that he’s actually okay. I want to believe that he’s telling me the truth.”

You and Gojo both know he wasn’t.

“Satoru, he told you what had happened. How could anyone walk away from that without having felt some guilt?”

Gojo didn’t look at you, ashamed, he knew you were telling the truth but he had refused to see it.

“Because we’re the strongest.” He said simply. You couldn’t argue with him.

You saw Geto when you were heading back to your room. He looked sluggish, his feet dragged behind him and his head hung low.

“Suguru,” you said quietly, softly stepping towards him. He raised his head then and you saw what Gojo had described. His lips curled into a smile that did not look like the one you knew so well. This was not the Geto you had befriended so early in the school year. This was someone playing a part, someone who was hiding something, hiding a deep pain that he was keeping from the rest of his classmates. His eyes looked glassy, like he wasn’t even looking at you truly.

“Y/N,” he responds gently. “What’s up?”

Words fell silent against your tongue and you couldn’t seem to form what you wanted to say.

“I….what happened?”

He shrugged. There was a long silence between the both of you.

“One moment I'm standing there with her and the next she’s a bloody heap at my feet.”

The smile still remained on his face and your blood ran cold. The mission had failed. You already knew that but it had explained why you had heard about the Start Religious Group celebrating the death of the vessel. You could not come up with anything to say, you stared at Geto and your hands raised to cover your mouth in shock.

“Suguru-“

“I’ll be fine, Y/N,” he began walking again, the sound of his feet dragging on the floorboards was the only thing that could be heard down the long hallway. You watched him until he disappeared into his dorm before you could finally find the words. Not that they would have given him any comfort anyway.

I’m sorry.

You hadn’t want to use your technique, not when you knew it would harm Haibara and Nanami. But when you saw the curse thrash Nanami into a building did you feel the smoke ooze out of your palms in a desperation that hindered you still. Your eyes widened and your fist clamped around the naginata staff, your eyes caught where Nanami’s body slumped, his weapon laid next to him as you saw blood trickle from his mouth. A rage increased inside you and you readied your weapon, feeling the poisonous vapor enshroud the weapon before you. You had to use it now.

Before you could leap and attack you saw Haibara. Only a flash of him when he ran to Nanami’s side. He lifted him, shaking him and though you couldn’t hear, you could see him frantically yelling for him to wake up. Haibara had one eye shut, blood pooled from his head and over it, his hands were covered in his own blood and you watched him smear it across Nanami’s face as he desperately shook him to consciousness.

The curse roared, its tentacles reached and flashed across the area towards you, but you were quicker. Your blade sliced the tentacle off and the smoke secreting from the weapon soaked itself into the skin of the curse and it quickly began to bubble. The skin grew blisters, they turned plump and pink and the curse took a moment to stare at its large stump before screeching in pain when the blisters burst, puss oozed and more vapor poured out of them. The monster began thrashing, the remaining tentacles swung and destroyed the buildings around it. It screamed obscenities and you rushed forward, slicing another limb off. Your feet were quick, running along another one, letting your blade glide across its green skin and let more spores awake in its path. You glance just for a second to see Nanami finally getting up, pushing Haibara away in an attempt to run and help you fight. You kept the curse further away because your technique was considered a curse, even if humans came into contact with it it would cover their bodies in horrible blisters and eat away at you from the inside. You had learned to channel it through your weapons to make the smoke more precise and less dangerous. But you had to release a puff of the poisonous smoke from your hand to keep the away from your friends.

Nanami screams your name, this monster wasn’t a grade 2 like they thought.

It grabbed you with one of its untouched tentacles, throwing you down to the ground. Your weapon falls from your grasp and before you can register what had happened you hear a sound of bones breaking, skin squelching and what sounded like someone releasing a pail of water across the floor. It was blood.

Haibara stands in front of you. You look up at him, his back to you and you see it. The curse had stabbed right through his body, the limb poking out of his back. Your mouth opens into a silent scream and you can only watch as he vomits blood and more blood and more until his body immediately goes limp.

You don’t remember much. The world seemed to be spinning. You were pulled aside by someone, people in suits and sorcerers more powerful than you finally arrived and you watched them massacre the curse. Your eyes trail to where Haibara had been left lying there, forgotten in the heat of the fight. A flame ignited in you and you fought against the strong arms of what you assumed was another sorcerer holding you back.

“Let me go, let me go!” You screamed. “Haibara! We have to-“

“We can’t! Not yet!” The sorcerer responded, grip becoming tighter on you.

“Get the fuck off me!” Your voice strained. “We have to save him! Let me fucking go!” You thrashed, kicking dirt up with your feet in an effort to get to Haibara. You felt defeated when you couldn’t even wiggle one arm from the person's grasp. 

You saw people with medical masks and long white coats run to his body, placing him on a stretcher and frantically talking to one another as they ran to the vehicle waiting for them. You see Shoko, scrambling outside the car, her face also covered with a mask. She turns to you, catching your gaze and you hold onto it, your eyes begging for some answer. 

Will he be okay?

She shook her head.

You don’t remember how or when you had calmed down but the next moment you were in a car with Nanami beside you. You look over to him and he was staring blankly, blood, Haibara’s blood now dried on his face. He wouldn’t look at you - couldn't look at you.

Everything felt numb.

“That was a first grade case.” The severity of the situation hit you like a damn train in that moment. Your vision became blurry and uneven, your hands grappled to the handlebars of where he lay and the tears dripped onto the shroud. There were dark tear stains riddled across the blue of the fabric and the moment Geto finally, finally pulled it over to cover Haibara’s pale, bloodied face did you crouch and sob with all your might. The tears streamed down your face, falling to your knees and letting your hair trap around your face like blinders, your ears thumped with blood rushing loudly. A sinking feeling fell inside your stomach as you struggled to breathe but more sobs broke out instead. Your stomach began to turn, the world becoming quiet and muffled around you and you didn’t notice Nanami crouching next to you, not until you felt his hand on your shoulder.

Don’t comfort me. What’s done is done. Your comfort can’t bring him back. Don’t comfort me. I don’t deserve it.

The tears dried your throat and you began to retch, they were empty gags but the tears refused to stop even when your body begged for them to. You couldn’t shy away from Nanami’s touch and the way his palm tried to soothe over your back. Your crying didn’t subside until you had passed out.

Haibara was dead and it was your fault.

“Y/N,” Nanami said softly. “It’s okay.” He’s crying too but you don’t see it, can’t hear him when you’re unconscious on the floor.

Everything is black. You’re in a void and all you can see is Haibara's broken, bloodied body on the ground. Several of them littered around your feet, you look around and it’s endless, the bodies, the blood soaking into his uniform and pooling around your feet. Your stomach churns at the sight before you, watching the blood go up and up, rising over the toes of your shoes. You try to scream, but no sound comes out. All you can smell is blood and all you can see his Haibara. Tears stream down your face.

I’m sorry! I’m sorry!

You feel a set of hands on your shoulders, gripping you. You blink your eyes open and the bodies are gone. Except one. Haibara’s standing in front of you, grasping you so tight you think he’ll shatter the bones in your shoulders.

“Y/N,” he doesn’t look right. His face is contorted, blood is pooling out of his mouth and onto the ground. His eye is an empty socket with a cascade of blood running down the expanse of his cheek.

“Why didn’t you save me?” He asks with an eerie frown. You gasp and find your voice.

“They wouldn’t let me get to you! I tried to-“

“You weren’t strong enough. I died because you failed.” He would never say these things. Never. And yet it felt like that truth. Still, you shook your head.

“I did my best! It was a grade 1 curse! I tried to save you! I tried to save Nanami! You-“

“You failed,” He said, every word he spoke blood only poured out, staining his teeth red. “You weren’t strong enough.”

Haibara was dead and it was because you weren’t strong enough to save him.

You awoke in your bed with a gasp, sitting up immediately. Tears stained your cheeks already when the memories came flooding back to you.

“Y/N!” It was Nanami. He had been sitting down beside your bed, you guessed he had fallen asleep judging by the small rim of red around his eyes. Or maybe he had been crying just as much as you have. He reached for you, his hand grabbing yours and the other one going around your shoulder to support you. The room began to spin and little black stars riddled around your field of vision as your head thumped like a drum. 

“Careful, you sprained a few ribs.” He gently said. You looked at Nanami, his face has a look of concern, your heart warmed at the realization that he had stuck by next to you for however long you were unconscious.

“H-how long was I out?” 

Nanami pulled away, letting you lean back against your beds headboard.

“Couple of hours at least. You were talking in your sleep.”

The dream came flooding back to you and you held Nanami’s gaze for a beat, wondering what to say. What had you said?

“I’m sorry…” You leaned back, the ache of your bruised body finally making itself known. “What…what do we do now?” Your hand rubs gently over the bruises riddled over your ribs.

Nanami sat with the question for a bit. Sitting back in the chair beside you and rubbing his fingertips across the wrapped cloth on his arm, blood starting to creep its way to the surface. He’ll have to change his bandages soon.

“We recover and go back to work.”

Your stomach sank, something felt different. The vessel incident, now Haibara…everything seemed to be too much. Like their entire world was crashing down with them.

You’re weak. That’s why. More people are going to die because of your lack of skill. Blood is on your hands because you weren’t strong enough to protect Haibara. 

“Hey,” Nanami said, putting his good hand on your shoulder. You blinked at him, taken out of your egregious stupor. Your eyes met with his brown ones and your heart beat a little faster.

“It’ll be…alright. I think. As long as we have each other, right?”

You always had Nanami and Haibara at your side. Now with him gone your only option was to support Nanami and he support you. You two needed each other now. It was the right thing to do. You nod.

You would become stronger for Haibara.

It got easier, as time went on. Nanami had stayed by your side and you stayed by his as the two of you recovered. 2 months flew by and you two were sitting in your dorm together, still bandaged up but you both were able to eat more. You looked down at your rice, sifting your chopsticks through it.

“I miss him.” You say. Nanami doesn’t need to ask who you’re speaking about and he pushes his hair to the side to get a good look at you.

“Me too.” He reaches over, he smiles, it’s sad and it carries a silent apology with it. He squeezes your wrist in comfort.

“He wouldn’t want us to be sad. He’d want you well fed and healed. Now eat.” You brought the rice to your mouth, eyes still skimming across Nanami’s face as he elegantly finished his food. You noticed he’d grown more, was starting to look more like a man. In just 2 months his jaw had seemed more sharp, his shoulders bigger, hands larger and warm when they touched your healing skin. His hair had also grown…longer.

“When are you going to cut that hair off, hm?”

He turned to you. “What? Is it an eyesore?”

You wrinkle your nose, “Yes, and it’s lame. You look like - what do they call it? A scene kid.” He rolls his eyes as you giggle. 

“Finish your damn food already.”

You always had a crush on him. Even now, when he smiled at you - which you rarely saw him do - did the butterflies release inside you, a laugh released from you and there was a sharp pain in your side - sending you into a coughing fit, you groaned because damn, those bruised ribs fucking hurt. Nanami patted your back, trying to comfort you but it only caused more pain to ache throughout your body. You shove him away, a fit of giggles and coughing and groaning filling the room and you think for a moment how much you had admired Nanami for sticking by you throughout all of this. He had suffered a great loss, too.

Nanami Kento was the strongest man you had known.

Nanami Kento was a coward. 

You hadn’t suspected a thing. Although, he had been starting to keep to himself a lot more as the years passed. It wasn’t particularly out of character for him so of course you were ignorant to the plans he had been setting up ever since Haibara died. Freshly graduated, pride still riddled across your face as you strutted through the halls, chest pumped up and high on the fact that you were Number 1 on the honor roll list. You wanted to share the happiness with your best friend, perhaps get some drinks with him. The thought of it makes your face go hot. You open the shoji door to one of the classrooms that Nanami frequented with you, a smile big and bright on your face.

“Nanami, I-“

Nanami was not there. In his place was Gojo Satoru, leaning against one of the student desks. He adorned his iconic sunglasses, laying further down on the bridge of his nose so you could see a glimpse of his pure sapphire blue eyes. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders lower. A stone sinks inside your stomach.

“Gojo, what-“

“He left.”

You immediately ask, “Who?” The air became suffocating when Gojo pushed himself off the desk and walked closer to you. His footsteps echo across the room and he looks at you with an empathetic look and you know his answer. It feels as though a curse has wrapped its spindly fingers around your throat when Gojo finally answers.

“Nanami. He left this morning. Told Yaga that he was leaving jujutsu high.”

No. No, that’s not right. That can’t be right. The feeling on your throat felt tighter, pins and needles pinched the inside of your esophagus and your eyes began to burn, tears threatening to resurface. What used to be such a drafty, cold room began hot, too hot. There was no storm and yet you heard thunder and lightning, it felt like the walls around you were crumbling down. A tear threatened at your waterline and you blinked, letting it fall down your cheek. Your stomach squeezed and it made you stumble slightly.

“Y/N-,” Gojo grabbed your shoulders, supporting you against his side.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You couldn’t focus on the sound of his voice, only mumbling to him so he’d know you at least still acknowledged he was there. He had an arm around your shoulder and grabbed onto your wrist with his other hand, holding you steady to guide you to one of the desks. You slumped onto the seat, your mind running through all the things Nanami had said to you. Promising that he’d stay by your side. That you would stay by his. Your throat began to burn again. Your hand tightened into a fist.

No, you could not. Not in front of Gojo. Not even in front of yourself could you cry anymore. It didn’t do anything - only caused a headache, made you feel sick to your stomach, had you on the floor heaving and gasping, hoping for it to end. It only showed the weakness you had shown when you had seen Haibara dead beneath the shroud. Gaining control of your emotions, releasing them through weapons, training your body until you were throwing up and your muscles ached was the only way you knew how to express the feelings that you held close to yourself. You had to get ahold of yourself. You slammed your fist on the desk in front of you and Gojo cocked his head in curiosity. 

“Where did he go?” You finally ask, hiding your face in the palm of your hand. Gojo was silent for a moment, you glanced at him. He had pushed his glasses all the way up the bridge of his nose so you could not meet his eyes. You could tell by the way he shuffled on his feet and his hands slid into his pockets that he was almost anxious to answer you.

“He, uh, went into business, I guess? Salaryman.”

A salaryman. Pathetic. Rather than protect people from curses and carry on Haibara’s legacy he decided to leave that behind to pursue a life of money and long hours in a stuffy cubicle. Standing around with other men in suits who only spoke of politics and how much wealth they had. He’d rather dedicate his life to a big company. Just like that, he ran off like a fucking coward. The sadness that had settled inside you boiled into a fiery anger, your hands clenching and immediately getting up. The chairs legs scrapped across the floor in a loud and screeching sound and you pushed it back into place with a force that was so great you were almost worried you’d break the wood beneath your grip.

“Y/N, I’m sorry about him. I tried to tell him that you would appreciate to be told but he didn’t want to.”

“Didn’t want to?” Your anger burned your skin, “He didn’t want to tell me that he was abandoning the school, abandoning the people out in the world that need saving.” You took a deep breath, “Abandoning me?” Abandoning Haibara.

He was running away like a coward. Hatred seeped into your anger and spread like the disease ridden smoke that oozed from your weapons. Gojo didn’t say a word because there was nothing else to say, so of course he stood there with his mouth a straight line, shoulders still and hands at his side now.

“Goodbye, Satoru. Thank you for telling me.” You couldn’t direct your anger at Gojo, he didn’t deserve it. You needed the training room, you needed to feel the weight of your weapon under your grasp and the blisters that awakened from the strain of the wood staff, to feel sweat trickle down your forehead and the satisfying ache of your muscles.

Nanami had been the strongest, sweetest man you had known and he had turned into a coward. Perhaps you and Haibara never mattered to him. You hoped to never see him again for the heartbreak would be too great.

[peppermint-whiskers]

New chapter alert! This one fought me a lil but it's fine uwu

[pepperdee]

TCoH Excerpts that make me happy (in no particular order): Linguistic Marvel

Emily returned to the counter, and Dedrick began inching toward her. “See you later, G-win.”

“It’s Guh-in,” they corrected. “Like gin with a hard G.” Dedrick paused, frowning at the ground. “It’s short for Meguinis Elson the Six—”

“Gin is spelled with a G?” Dedrick interrupted. “Not a J?”

Guin stared up at him, fascinated. They tapped their chin. “Raskai with a distinctly rural Artriana-Ashon dialect, but you have perfect Neri grammatical structure,” they whispered quickly, circling him. Dedrick watched them closely, tamping his pockets to make sure he didn’t get robbed again.

“Guin!” Emily interrupted. “Please get back to work.”

“He’s a linguistic marvel, Mom!” Guin said.

“Guin,” echoed Emily warningly.

Guin sighed, backing down the aisle. “Feel free to come by anytime and just talk, Bakery Boy.”

Dedrick watched them go. “It’s…it’s Ded…never mind,” he muttered, joining Emily at the counter.

[tell-talesilence]

Sometimes it's enough to know that someone loved you on purpose.

[qrowscant-art]

MY BROTHER ; THE PARASITE

People die, and sometimes they come back. Your brother is one of those. Even as his body rots and his mind unravels, he still has control over you— just like when you were kids.

A short, interactive story about a corpse, a complicated sibling relationship, and the things we forget. Made in Twine. Written, illustrated, and coded in about three weeks for the IFComp.

Content warnings included on the itch.io page and in the story itself.

|| PLAY HERE! ||

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

[rrat-king]

had to do a long drive back to school today so for no particular reason here are the bad kids gas station roadtrip snacks:

adaine is a sour candy girl i know it in my soul(also fun fact eating sour candy can help override ur brain during a panic attack). sour patch watermelon candies + arizona iced tea is just like. her truth

kristen is canonically a yerba mate enjoyer and it shows. lemon yerba mate + dill sunflower seeds she eats shell and all

riz is the most prolific gas station food enjoyer so i feel like he will do something new eveytime, strategically trying to figure out what is the best drink + candy + chip combo, but his go to is blue bug juice + m&m’s + bugles

fig is too easy. the fuego takis + classic monster. sometimes peach rings

gorgug is a jacks links jerky boy. classic jerky + trail mix + water. he also does the dad thing of sticking his hand back and stealing snacks from everyone else as driver tax

fabian is the opposite of riz and just has. so little experience with gas station food and is frankly appalled by it. he will not eat the snacks but he will get blue gatorade

[anlian-aishang]

Tags: levi ackerman x reader, mutual pining [coworkers] to smut, only one bed, non-sexual spitting, alcohol mention, reader wears levi’s shirt, cunnilingus, penetration, modern AU, fem!reader Word count: 10,000 A/N: thank you to @lostinwildflowers for betaing this! Birch is one my writing idols, so I am truly honored. I hope you enjoy <3

This can’t be happening.

Unknowingly, the two of you shared a silent sentiment. After a late taxi, long lines of airport security, and racing to the terminal only to be delayed for several hours, the cherry on the shit sundae - as he would put it - was the midnight arrival to a hotel with only one bed.

“You’re sure?”

The look on the nervous teenager’s face conveyed the answer before he even uttered the question. Still, Levi knew he had to ask, audibly enough for you to hear - just so you would know that he did. In the face of liability, you had to acknowledge that he had tried his best.  

“I’m really sorry, sir.” Their eyes were darting in panic between you and Levi as if you were the antidote to this angry customer. But he wasn’t angry, at least, not at them. Wasn’t the brat’s fault that Erwin booked the wrong room. “I have that in the afternoon of September the 15th, E. Smith booked a single king bed for one adult guest.”

“Two adult guests.”

They shared a lengthy eye contact. From the background, you watched their miscommunication unfold and cringed with secondhand embarrassment. You nearly burst into nervous laughter when they shrugged, “I can provide you with extra complimentary toiletries.”

At his sides, Levi unclenched his fists in defeat, “...We’ll manage.”

The plastic key cards made a satisfying sound as the receptionist slid them across the marble countertop - equal and opposite to the dissatisfaction on Levi’s face. In one smooth motion, he handed you your copy while simultaneously whipping out his cell phone. Two clicks - speed dial and call. Two rings - Erwin answered.

You couldn’t hear the other end, but you had your guesses.

Hello?

“You fucked up.”

Sorry?

“As you should be.”

For what? 

“Stuffing two adults in one bed, what made you think we’d appreciate that accommodation?”

Given the looks you’ve been giving each other at the office, I thought you might. 

Levi violently snapped his phone closed in hopes you couldn’t hear that. Thrusting his phone in his pocket, he used his free hand to snatch luggage from yours. “Give me that.” 

A kind gesture, but irritation in his voice made it confusing. You thought to grab it back and insist that you could handle it, but instead, held your tongue. Clearly, he was steaming. Any objection, even a well-intended one, you doubted it would better his mood. Walking towards the lift, you concluded that nothing you had to say would supply ice to his ire. Though, the walk, time, and your calming presence, seemed to be working, you thought as you watched him delicately pad the UP button. 

In the intimacy of the elevator, Levi allowed himself one venting word, “Idiot.” He sighed, placed his thumb and pointer finger on each of his temples, and rubbed wrinkles into his skin. “As if we haven’t already been through enough.”

Today and long before, the two of you had been through plenty together. Tonight was the first time you would pin it on Erwin. All other times, it had been your own selves and each other to blame. 

He loved the way you looked in those small pencil skirts and see-through tights, but he hated what it did to him. Meetings in which he could only stare, absorbing nothing. In the middle of a phone call, when you walked by, he would forget its purpose and stammer aimlessly. Nights kept awake, staring at his ceiling, a blank canvas for projecting his wandering thoughts: how you would look with the skirt yanked up and the tights pulled down, how you took your outfit off after work, and if you wanted his help with that. 

Countless times, you had cursed the man you crushed on. The way he ran his fingers through his hair when overworked made you want to try it yourself, to take his stressors away - or better yet - serve as the relief to them. On hot days, he loosened his top button. On lucky days, the top two. On his way out the door, he would tug his tie out from under his collar, creating a loop wide enough for you to slip your hand through and use it to pull his lips to yours - or so you imagined. Each day, Levi had fed you tastes. Over time, your craving for him had grown unbearable. 

Ultimately, this out-of-town assignment was a test, and a final exam at that. Years of studying one another were culminating in one night, on one bed. The chime of the elevator interrupted your thoughts as if it was a warning: ground yourself. The plain of Levi’s expression and calm in his pace on the way to room 845 echoed its sense: he was unriled, uninterested. 

Your read was wrong. Levi was thankful that you trailed him: with his back to you, you could not see his rouge tint, the bite of his lip, or the twitch of his cheek. As he pressed his key to the reader, held the heavy hotel door, and slugged both of your belongings atop the desk and dresser, you admired the way he moved so suavely - when actually, he considered his motions stiff, careful, and calculated. 

Neither of you bothered to turn on the light. Taxed bodies, tired eyes, and tempted temperaments shared a desire to finally climb in bed. No need to delay things any longer. Levi unzipped his suitcase, the sound garnered your attention. Immediately, you noticed now neatly he had packed, admired his organization and pristine folds, then planned that when it came your time to unpack, you would aim to shield your messy methods from the clean freak’s vision.

A gray cotton tee - matching his eyes, black sweatpants - same shade as his hair. A navy canvas travel bag topped the pile. Levi leaned effortlessly against the white bathroom door and stated, “I’ll change in here.”

You nodded vehemently, as if he had ordered you on an important mission, “I’ll be out here.” 

Cute. And at that intrusive thought, he silently ducked away. 

Unbuckling his belt, tugging his zipper, freeing his legs from his slacks, Levi tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Every muscle in his body finally untensed, he was set free from one cage of many. His business-casual confines had been done away with. Now, he just had professionalism, work relationships, and his fucking hormones to maintain. 

His boxer briefs were agitatingly taut, struggling to constrain years’ worth of tension in their cotton threads. Levi looked down to his lap and cursed himself. Hovering around thirty, yet all the composure of a fresh young bachelor. Gradually, Levi hooked his thumb beneath the elastic waistband and loosened just a little, allowing him room to breathe. Too much room maybe as the chill thermostat air contrasted harshly with his warmed passion and drew a loud hiss. Levi clenched his teeth hard in an attempt to bar his vocals, praying to whatever power that you wouldn’t knock on the door and call Levi, you alright? It was just the kind of person you were, and Levi had come to know you well. 

That anxiety turned out to be false, for your ears were ringing: ignorant of his desires, overwhelmed by your own. Gingerly, you unzipped your luggage and fret at the sight: a little black nightgown with lace on the hems. Its sight hit you like a load of bricks, lightning to the thunderous memory of your midnight, sleep-deprived, frantic packing. That woman was giddy for the business trip with her office crush and, in that frenzy, picked her sexiest pajamas for the special occasion. Goddammit! If only you knew that he wouldn’t be seeing it from across the room as a tease, he would be sleeping next to it, maybe even feeling it if one of you crossed your half of the mattress. Cursing yourself, you dug frantically in search of something - anything - else to wear to bed, but were rudely met with only pantsuits and blouses. You bunched your nightgown in your trembling fists, but its thinness and shortness allowed it to fit wholly in your hands - foiling your coping strategy. All you could do was tip your head back and sigh to the ceiling, Fuck me.

That feeling echoed when you draped it over yourself and saw your reflection in the hotel window. Your hair was disheveled from the long day. Makeup smeared and ran down your face, eyeliner to eyeshadow. Wrinkles in your silk dress. Looks like you were already fucked. 

On the other side of the door, Levi was thinking the same thing: he was absolutely fucked. His erection stood high after minutes of waiting. Cold water splashed on his face, but his fever seemed to evaporate it. Trying to think about humbling topics, but he couldn’t get you off his mind. To make his arousal vanish, there was one thing he could do, but there wasn’t enough time for that. Even if the shower were running, Levi doubted that the downpour of water would be able to suppress the noises of slapping skin or his embarrassingly heightened vocals. Fuck. Levi clutched the bathroom countertop and sighed at his reflection. His exhale fogged the mirror just before he hung his head down and conceded. God, help me. 

His prayers ignored, you ended up knocking on the bathroom door eventually: “Levi?”

Every nerve in his body froze. He stammered more times than he would have liked before managing a stern “What?”

“Sorry! I just -” humiliated heat seemed to radiate off of you, “- take your time, I just -”

Half listening, half panicking, Levi seemed not to pay mind to your take your time - stepping into his joggers and throwing on his shirt as fast as he could.

“- can I brush my teeth?”

You were startled when his response was a quick and loud turn of the handle, wordlessly letting you in. Levi was surprised to see you the way you were: temptress dress with a toothbrush and toothpaste innocently perched in each hand. The eye contact lasted for three seconds, but you could have sworn that it was that many years long. 

The twitch of your hands and your heart’s lofty goals placed a dollop of toothpaste twice as big as you normally would. Had to have perfect breath, just in case. Not even just in case, you were going to lay beside him - mere inches away - for the next several hours. In those seconds of pondering, gravity began to spill your toothpaste off the bristles and towards the pristine marble vanity. With haste, you jammed the toothbrush into your mouth, causing you to gag on your device. 

Levi felt his erection press against his waistband and rolled his eyes at his own stupid urges. You assumed that eye roll was for you and offered an innocent grin. Not so innocent, however, was your curiosity. His t-shirt was tight, leaving little to the imagination. One arm’s reach from an array of muscles, you kept your eyes deliberately on the mirror ahead. However, your doppelganger had a mind of her own apparently, gaze falling from eye contact and onto his chest, waist, abdomen. Without even having to turn his head, Levi could see your staring, obviously more obvious than you thought it would be. With your attention on his lower half, Levi allowed himself a smirk. 

Such a silly thing, but was this the first time you brushed your teeth next to someone? This handful of minutes was inexplicably romantic, oddly domestic. Pajamas, double sinks, and the end of a long day. You had been coworkers, acquaintances, and unknowingly requited lovers, but for this one moment, you were husband and wife. 

White toothpaste lined the gap between his top and bottom lip, and for some reason, you felt your knees buckle. Levi ducked down to spit, a polite attempt to hide it. Your eyes rejected his offer, instead widening as your pupils honed in on the sight. Leaning forward ever so slightly, you savored yet loathed the way his rejection ran down the pipe. What a waste. 

Levi sheathed his toothbrush back in its protective case, a neat freak through and through, and slid it back into his tote. Sifting through, he stumbled upon a mini bottle of mouthwash, making him freeze with indecision: added freshness at the cost of spitting in front of you again? He felt that once had already been rude enough. Levi shot you a side-eye and made an unexpected eye contact: he was trying to read you, you were already staring. Mutually miscommunicated guilt, both of you felt you had been caught and snapped back to aversion. 

It came your turn to rinse your mouth, and he couldn’t help it. Levi could have blamed his peripheral vision, could have blamed the bright lights that lined the mirror, but hard-pressed, he could not come up with an excuse for why he watched you then. The streak of white that shot out of your mouth, its wake dribbling down your lips. Goddammit, you cursed your clumsiness and hastily wiped your mess with a washcloth. He knew it as well as you did: he should have been grossed out. Only Levi realized, though, how much he liked it, he was just too ashamed to admit it. 

Though his arousal screamed, his lips stayed silent. There was a time and place.

Was there? You’ve worked together for how long? All those years, they never had a time or place?

A long inhale, a slow exhale, his fingers curled underneath the cold countertop, hoping its chill would thwart the flush of his chest. Fuck how badly he wanted to kiss you then, to thumb that white stain off your chin and into his mouth, to clutch the backs of your thighs and hoist you onto that vanity. Your waist in his hands, your sex in line with his -

“Levi?”

“Yeah?”

His rapid response, you mistook it as anger. While the voice on his shoulder was lust, yours was insecurity. Surely, you’re the last straw. Having to share a bed with a dork like you? He’s had a tough day. Don’t make him endure this.

“Do you want me to take the floor?”

A dumbbell dropped to the pit of his stomach. Of course not, but for you to bring it up, he must have been hasty to assume that you would share the bed. Levi grit his teeth, annoyed with his lofty goals. Two slow blinks, “I can.”

That was the last thing you wanted. “N-No… I don’t - I don’t mean…” Your lips parted in stammer. Eyes darted as if the tile walls would whisper you the answer. For a moment, you cursed the beautiful neutrality of his face: impossible not to love, but impossible to read. His stillness was contagious, though, and brought you to settle on an answer, “I’ll meet you under the sheets.”

Ears burned red as they checked: was that selective hearing or was that what you really said? Before his eyes could study you, you turned on your heel and closed the door shut.

Once again, on opposite sides of the door, your sentiment was shared: Phew. 

He took a few minutes after that. When he finally walked out, he found that you had been lotioning your legs over that time. Dim glow of the bedside lamp reflected on your smooth skin. If not for the way he had come to know you, to respect and appreciate you, this sight could have been the cover of some sketchy magazine. Eagerness glazed your eyes. Your hands had been massaging your inner thighs, now a perfect shield for the gem between your legs. Levi gave the slightest shake of his head, not disapproval, but disbelief. How did you manage such effortless perfection?

Was that not everything about you, though? The most minute smile in meetings. Biting your lip when you were bored. A laugh so beautiful that it served as its own positive reinforcement, beckoning others to amuse you again. Were you the one? 

Or was it the eyes of your beholder? Maybe you weren’t perfect, maybe that’s why you were in his eyes. Despite all the signs of your singlehood - never in a rush to get home, never a mention of a date - he never truly believed it. It was a war of his flawless intuition and steep infatuation. Either you were the one for him, or he had been wrong all these years. 

Get in the bed, idiot. 

His stride was steady, captivating, as he made his way to the side of the bed. In habit, Levi crossed his arms across his torso, prepared to lift up, but caught himself halfway. No, he would not be sleeping shirtless tonight. Neither would he sleep in his loose and breathable boxer shorts, but instead, stifling fleece. Already, for one reason or another, he was sweating. Upon approach, the layers upon layers of sheets, blanket, and comforter looked even more suffocating. He caught a glimpse of the thermostat, but then of you, and found your skin laden with goosebumps. Lips rolled beneath his teeth, bargaining, but he could not bring himself to turn the AC up while your body temperature was down. Just as strongly, he refused to do anything that might make you uncomfortable, like taking off his clothes, no matter how badly he wanted to. More words would have served you both well, tearing down the artificial barrier your doubts were constructing. 

Can I take this off? 

I would love nothing more.

But you were both stupid to imagine that dialogue.

Levi slowly reclined back, sighing as he sunk into the sheets. Already, his skin was burning. He combed his fingers back through his bangs and released a heavy sigh. A heavenly trial, you read it as a hellish endurance, and instinctually apologized, “...I’m sorry about this.”

You have nothing to be sorry for, Levi pondered the response, but deemed it too much. Instead, he feigned a disinterested mumble, “It’s Erwin’s fault.”

You, on the other hand, indulged your gut feeling, “He’s done worse.”

Levi huffed a single exhale, his version of a chuckle.

You turned on your side. He loved that you chose to face him rather than the wall. He hated that he even thought of that. You were so close, he could feel the mattress dip between you, could feel your breath cool against his skin. Eyes fluttering shut, your voice was either sultry or exhausted, a glass-half-full kind of thing. “Good night, Levi.”

Fuck, what a fight, battling the urge to kiss you then and there. Your eyes sparkling, noses nearly touching, he had sworn that this was how all the shitty romcoms went, but he failed to find anything lackluster about this scene. His lips yearned to close that distance, arms ached to perch themselves at your sides. Levi redirected that energy to his hands, fisting the comforter hard as he draped it gently over your shoulders, “Night, (Y/N).”

But how were you going to sleep like this? Although you were running off a 20-hour day, you felt that sleep would be a waste. Queueing for tickets to see your favorite artist, only to close the window the moment your turn came. Styling your hair just to go and get it cut straight after. Champagne dumped down the drain. Mentally, it was an unbearable thought. Physically, your body was even more resistant to the idea. Your middle was fucking throbbing. Nipples stood tall against their skimpy silk covering as if reaching for more contact, his contact. Legs squirmed against one another, trying to smother the burn between them, but you willed them frozen: don’t wake him up. 

In your best state of mind, you would have recalled the symptoms of his insomnia: always a tall thermos of caffeine on his desk, perpetual circles under his eyes, especially the times you both worked late. On your way out, you would peek through the pane of glass on his door to wave good-bye. Now and then, he would be hunched over his desk, imprints of the keyboard on his cheek - a makeshift pillow for his crash naps. With a shred of thought, you would have realized he was likely already awake, but you were incapable of even that. It was midnight when you crawled into the king bed. Red digits at your side now read 1:40 AM, yet you knew that not one of those one-hundred minutes had been spent in sleep. Coffee in the morning, nerves on the plane, hormones now, you had left composure back at your apartment and you weren’t sure you’d get it back at any point of this business trip. I mean shit, you swore, this was only the first night.

Only the first night. One of many sure to come, right? How many nights had he gone to bed alone, kept awake with longing of having you by his side? How many mornings had he woken himself up with a sleepy mumble of your name, only to find one half of his bed empty? It couldn’t all be for nothing. Now that he was sharing the bed with you, it was all he ever wanted, yet you were still out of reach. Uncharacteristic, the most reliable man you knew was spiraling in thought. 

But to you, it would make sense: the only one who could bring Levi Ackerman down was none other than himself. He saw it a different way: you were the only one who could dismantle him like this.

You could feel his heat emanating, could see his sweat reflecting. Before you could stop yourself, your affection had boiled over, “Levi…” your voice was hoarse, having gone hours without as much as a whisper, and unexpectedly loud. His silver gaze drifted to you, depleting the last of your reserves, you mused, “...you’re hot.”

A statement, not a question. In near pitch blackness, he allowed himself a rare smirk. Levi waited until it faded to turn towards you. 

You pinched the hem of his shirt in your fingertips, nails accidentally scraped his abdomen on the way. “Want this off?” You tugged lightly, “I don’t mind.”

At the same time, you shivered, and Levi filled in the blanks to ground his wandering mind. “Cold?” His hands brushed yours on the way to the bottom of the garment. Levi bunched fists in his fabric and lifted it effortlessly up, over, off his head - as he wanted to do all those hours ago. Pent-up relief, he thrust his shirt to you and offered, “Could’ve just asked.”

You were right all along. All along, those loose button-up shirts had covered a chiseled body. He must have been curling with arms like that. A pull-up bar on the back of his bedroom door, how many repetitions did it take to get these muscles? Your eyes scanned every inch of him but could find not one flaw. Your lips were moving, but words failed to emerge. There were a million things you wanted to say to him, to tell him, but only one came through. You received his gift gingerly and muttered, “Thanks.”

This was a moment you had distantly fantasized over for years. Turns out, this was even better than you dreamed. His shirt carried a garden of mint, lavender, and tea leaves in its scent. In putting it on, you felt that you gained a glimpse into Eden. The fabric was satin soft and sheer thin. In watching you wear it, Levi felt in the presence of an angel. It highlighted the curves he loved and introduced him to ones he had never noticed before. Brows narrowed, pupils dilated in his gaze - concerned and deviant. The straight cut forced your waist and hips to confine. The small-pattern chest was clearly never meant to accommodate a body like yours. Threads were spread taut by your cleavage, nearly torn apart as they strained to cover you. In his eyes, he thought it fit you perfectly. 

Arms finally through the sleeves. Beneath them, your hairs stood on end. Again, you shivered, but could not pinpoint why. It did not take the shiver, though, to convey your state. Your erect points stood above all. Levi looked to you with both pity and admiration, his voice their lovechild: “Look at you.”

You simmered, embarrassed yet teasing, “Looking isn't helping.” You crossed your arms before your chest and bundled yourself together, “If you really care -”

He did.

“- then do something about it.”

Unfolding the quilt from the foot of the bed, turning up the room’s temperature - those were the most straightforward solutions. But Levi was not thinking straight, and he had a feeling that was what you wanted. Slowly, Levi sifted his arm behind your shoulders, when you snuggled in, he sealed his wrap with a hand at your side. 

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

His gaze descended to meet yours. Likewise, you raised your gaze to meet. Painfully aware that this was a first for the both of you - neither his passion nor your arousal would shut up about it. At the same time, watching you shiver reminded him of all the times he had silently substituted your needs. Behind on work, you never asked for assistance, but would hurriedly throw things his way if Levi offered his help. When your car wouldn’t start that one winter day, who knows how long you would’ve paced in the parking lot had he not pulled his sedan beside yours and given you a jump? A sharp pang seized his heart in realization: he thought you were close, and now you were physically there, yet you still were not comfortable enough to ask him for anything - even though you both wanted it.

“Y’know,” his thumb rubbed your shoulder, “you should learn to just ask for what you want.” 

Indeed, 2 AM haze was shrouding his awareness, too - particularly his self-awareness. Was it not him who steeped your tea in the mornings and tidied your desk before he left each night? He could have - should have - just asked you out all those times. How much sooner would this night have come if he had? Levi swore to live without regrets, but that did not stop him from acknowledging the opportunities he had missed thus far. He tossed you the takeaway he wished he had learned long ago: “Makes things a lot easier.”

At first, you thought he was chastising you. The stern monotone of his voice could chill you to the bone at times, but when you took in his expression, you felt warm all over. His brows were not knit, but perched in a tender lift. His breaths were not terse, like when he got annoyed, but slow and calm. At the same time, though, you could feel his heart pounding hard, could hear it when you placed your ear over his chest. Clouded moonlight softened those hardlined features, and again, you wondered if this was your first night together or actually your honeymoon: wasn’t this kind of pillow talk reserved for spouses alone?

A deep swallow, and the last time you checked yourself. Could he have looked any more genuine? Any more readable? Transparent? You didn’t think so. For the man of few words, this was all but an admission of his feelings for you, and it was the best look you had ever seen on him. His advice, his command, invited you to try that outfit on.

“Practice with me?”

One slight nod, so slight - you knew no one would have noticed it but you. In that, you felt your confidence soar, pulling the words from your heart to the air between you both, “Hold me tighter?”

He did.

“Pull me closer?”

He did.

“And kiss me already.”

Levi could not describe it, the feeling that overcame him when he heard your demand. Proud of you. Relieved. At peace yet exhilarated. The serenity that all was right in the world, yet the anticipation of what he had wanted all along. The nature of the kiss aligned with the latter. For two agonizing seconds, he examined you. Assured by the sight of your smile, he longed to taste it for himself. Thumb pressed to the curve of your chin, index finger perched under it, slowly yet with unwavering passion - that was the way Levi brought your lips together. 

Soft, as he expected. Expert, as you had. Initial contact was delicate, the warmup slow. Levi always went so hard at everything he did, held such a sharp tongue, which was why the way he brushed against you made your heart stop. You knew strength to be his greatest, most innate feature, and therefore you deciphered that this tenderness was a display of exertion. Levi showed no signs of struggle, though. Touch-starved for you, yet his lips chose to waltz rather than tango. His hand on your chin drifted to the back of your neck. Nape cupped in his palm, he used that leverage to drift you here and there, allowing him to taste all of you - encouraging you to do the same with him. 

Levi tasted like peppermint, the brand so sharp that it made you sneeze now and then, he had learned after enough lunch breaks. You tasted like cinnamon, the stick that baristas stuck in his chai come the colder months. When your tongues met, they created a new taste. After minutes of exchange, they became addicted to it. Their craving demanded all efforts in that search: Levi’s grip pulled you closer, you threw an arm over his back. Breaths turned to gasps, a wordless understanding of all you would do for the other: grab his mail on the way in, walk you to your car at night, and kiss until you were out of breath.

The thought had never crossed your mind, but his actions disintegrated it - the possibility that this was some selfish, opportunistic spell. Levi was nearly shaking with anticipation, his erection pained with neglect, but that did not influence his pace. Each time you thought the makeout might end, he would catch his breath with “pretty girl…” before joining you once again. His kiss was lovely, as was the spark at your middle, but his ardor was gas to your flame, and before you knew it, you were ablaze. You found your body rise against his, pushing off the mattress, and rolling to grind against the friction of his rigid figure. Levi was everything you ever wanted, and maybe you were just that desperate or just that greedy - the fact that you needed more. He wouldn’t have you any other way.

You thought twice before breaking from the kiss, one last deep plunge of your tongue to his throat before pulling away, conscious to savor the taste. “Levi…” you sighed.

A string of saliva hung between you, the clean freak calmly closed his fist over it, and you felt yourself shudder again, “can we keep practicing?”

His lips were one degree north of flat, about as big of a smile as anyone would see on Ackerman. Tonight, just the two of you here, it felt inexplicably, particularly special. “Make love to me.”

An advanced learner, you always went the extra mile. Back then, Levi had no doubt, it was the reason you had been promoted so quickly. Now, it was that you had aced the first lesson and jumped to the next: no longer asking, demanding already. Sentimental was not a feeling he knew, but proof that you were this comfortable with him was indeed something. 

His praise reflected that feeling back onto you, “That’s right, good girl.” The back of his hand brushed unruly strands from your face. A kiss on your forehead rewarded, “like that.”

Once more, he pressed his lips to yours, but it was not even a second that he stayed - just a starting point to the journey that was exploring your body. Lips slid to the corner of your mouth, down your jawline, neck, then chest. A trail of hickeys and teeth grazes was left - tomorrow’s meetings and your professionalism having vanished from his mind. His hands joined the excursion: one gentle yet relishing in its caress of your neck, the other crawled up your - his - shirt. The familiar texture of his old garment contrasted with the novel feel of your skin. Muscles twitched with satisfaction, disrupting the fluidity of his motions, but you found beauty in the unpredictability of his touch. Rose-colored lenses were blind to the signs of his weakness, instead chalking those movements up to Levi’s expertise. As you tipped your head back and sighed, Levi figured it was the first misunderstanding that had done you two any good tonight. 

On his descent, he could not help but take a stop at your breasts. Turns out, it was never just his imagination, but given your curvature, of course your buttons would have been stretched to contain you. Those blouses had been his guilty favorite for that very reason, but his tight t-shirt was taking a close second. No, that slip you wore when you joined him in the bathroom, that must’ve been the best, right? Blood rushed, pupils dilated, his body anxious for a visual refresher.

You were going faster than he could have hoped. Already, he was proud of you for having graduated to demands. Now, you had learned to act on your own - either having read his mind or listening to your own desires. Levi could not decide which possibility he preferred, but when you lifted your top and perched it at your clavicle, he was ashamed to admit that his mind had discarded all other affairs. 

Levi nestled his cheek in your cleavage, and though you were over a thousand miles away, he felt he was at home. Warm pillows cupped him, and both of you felt that the space was made for him to fill. Levi’s breath was hot on your skin, yet your nipples appeared as though you were in a winter wilderness. Of course, he took notice in all your details, and sighed in mutual enamor, “Fuck, baby…” 

It was a tone you had never heard in his voice before. Desperation and desire in a man so ever assured and disinterested, you felt your panties drip from damped to soaked. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

You, too, was what you thought to say, but somehow, the word seemed inadequate. His body was artwork: a symmetric abdomen, muscular forearms, veins that stood against his skin, you longed to trace him as such. Bangs that fell perfectly imperfectly over his face, begging that you run your fingers through them: mess with them now, gel them straight in the morning. You could slice paper on that jawline, could get lost in his eyes. No matter how long you stared, and stared you had, Levi was like the sunset: even after a hard day, always breathtakingly gorgeous.

Especially with the perspective you had now. One hand cupped your waist, the other your breast, perching you into his mouth, eye contact deliberately maintained throughout his movements.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Levi’s tongue swirled your nipple before his lips audibly slurped. “To get what you want…” 

Again, the fog of the nameless hours between night and day had blinded him to the relevance his words had to himself. How long had he wanted this? How good did it feel? He had no verbal answer for it, only the fervor of his actions: sprightly tongue and rocks of his hips. As you always had, you filled his gaps: while he could not fathom the words, yours overflowed. 

“Oh, Levi… Fuck, Levi…!” your desperate cries of his name made him leak onto the hotel sheets, no longer pristine. Your harsh exhales ran currents through his hair, and suddenly, it seemed you two had traded temperatures. Now, he was the one shivering while you sweat through the shirt. For his fever, he craved one antidote. Crawling down your body, his approach to the medicine cabinet. He prepared to ask for his dosage.

“My turn.”

Huh? 

You propped yourself up on your elbows and took a good look. A good look: Levi had wedged himself between your legs. Fingers caressed your thighs with a precise pressure, a touch that tickled in a way that made you want more, yet was strong enough that he could push your hips to the mattress and pry your legs apart. You had to bunch your fists and rub your eyes to check, maybe 3 AM was just fucking with you. 

Levi read your search for reassurance and inserted conviction into his tone. His stare and voice unwavering, “Can I taste you?”

Yeah, 3 AM was definitely fucking with you, for this was too good to be true. His sharp chin dwindled above the soft of your sex. His gaze set on your soul. Both of you agreed: his hands had never felt so calloused until they met your smooth thighs. It was a dream you would have woken up thankful to have had bestowed on you, but the grip he had on you was so perpetually undeniable: this was real. Head spinning, mind raced to catch up, yet Levi’s wait was so astonishingly still. Levi knew he would make you feel good. Based on your state, it seemed he was already doing that. Now, you just had to say yes, but he would not push you towards any one answer, nor would he do anything more until you arrived at it. If you wanted it, you had to ask for it, sweetheart.

A flood of thoughts swirled in your mind, each one screaming over the other, you felt you were drowning. In your search for stability, you relied on your sense of sight: Levi Ackerman between your legs. What the fuck are you waiting for? 

“Y’Yes, Levi.” You reached down and held his forehead. As you brushed his bangs from his face, he offered another half-smile, but it was brief, for he was past the point of eager. Still, the calm in his pace remained. Slowly, his hands snaked from the backs of your thighs to the sides of your hips. Thumbs hooked between the straps of your panties and your skin. His fingers clenched over them, bringing the garment past your knees, down your shins, and off your ankles. From chest to toes, you were now entirely exposed. At first, you wrangled with embarrassment, but his infatuation was your comfort. Hunger seized his vision, thirst drove his actions. You had nothing to be afraid of. 

His earlier route, lips to neck, neck to chest, chest to torso, was now mirrored. Levi cupped your heels in his hand and lifted your feet, allowing him to plant kisses up and up your legs, drags of his tongue followed to connect the dots. Minutes gone by, and even after having pocketed your consent, he still had yet to put his mouth there. Spending time to appreciate your thighs, he wanted you to know how long he had been anticipating this, and now that he had finally landed his spot, he would be damn sure to save the best bite for last. 

Left arm wrapped around your thigh, Levi nestled his head against it, allowing his perspective to stay sound on your sex. His right hand trailed from your knee to your middle, and at last, you knew he was getting started. At first, it was his fingertips, and at that mere first touch came your sudden awakening as to how dire your desire had grown. Your hands flew back and clutched your pillow, Levi admired the tendons that rose in your wrist, and your voice, “A’Ahh!!” 

He shot one glance up to check on you, but the look on your face ensured you were more than okay. With that, he decided to repeat the pattern of his rubs. Index and middle finger paired as they rode the sliver between your lips, your arousal slickened his knuckles. Once wet enough, he would split his digits into a V, each one taking responsibility for one of your folds. When that friction ran dry, he would return to your core, a seemingly never-ending source of lubrication, to run the process back again. You should not have been surprised, for everything with him was purposed - in the office or in the bedroom. With your interior and exterior in a coat of your own clear, he would have the freedom to run his mouth, no need to lick his lips or garner more saliva. Years of anticipation, now that the moment had arrived, he was going to spend the extra seconds to make sure this went according to plan.

Your glisten was so thorough, looking at you, Levi swore he could see his own weak reflection, the blush on his cheeks, the sweat on his forehead. In that way, his plunge was accelerated: preferring to trade the sight of his unruly state for the taste of you. Lips circled to match your curves, and you quickly identified this as a familiar feeling in an unfamiliar place. Levi was kissing you with the same tenderness he had displayed in your makeout, only now, he was between your legs. His jaw stretched wide to ensure he could reach every inch, from the top of your cleft, along your crescent sides, and to the spot where they rejoined. With his mouth in control, he let his hands indulge in your body, adorned upon your delectable waist, light squeezes of your ass, and massaging the divots of your inner thighs. His lips practiced that motion with a goal of perfection. Meanwhile, his tongue distracted you from any signs of his learning. Slow, purposed drags from bottom to top made your love pool on the tip of his tongue - each accumulation swallowed with a satisfied groan. Levi’s oral was pristine, only an occasional slurp and smack, allowing both of your vocals to take the stage. Your sky-high gasps, his low and satiated moans. He lived for the moments you would syllabize his name “Le-vi…” His “there you go” always followed, implicitly begging for more.

His neck began to bob in support of his movements. With that came a whole new level of pressure and slate of angles. His sharp nose slanted against your curves, lovely opposite to your soft. Your scent and your taste moved mountains within him, and in that, he noticed: his emotional pull was just as strong as his physical. All his life, he had grown to love bitter tastes, perhaps because they had been force fed to him. You were the first cube of sugar to have landed in his drink. Now, he had honey straight from the source. Levi felt his erection press hard against the mattress, “Fuck…” he whined, “you taste so good.”

Breath caught in your throat, all you could manage was a light sigh. As your lips twitched, he generously helped, taking the words right out of your mouth. “You have no idea…no idea -” Levi moaned, “how fucking long I’ve been waiting for this.”

At those words alone, you felt you might climax right then. Had he been eavesdropping on your dreams? How did he know that you had been fantasizing over that exact sentence for an unspeakable amount of time? “Me - Me too, Levi…” 

Your admission was even sweeter, lifting his feelings from indulgence to fulfillment. All the nights he had spent awake, wondering if you were thinking of him the way he was of you, your confession was confirmation that this had been requited all that time. Levi found it both gratifying and maddening: gratifying to have discovered that your feelings were mutual, maddening how many years had gone by until that discovery. Levi grew determined to make up for all that time, revenge reflected in the acceleration of his actions.

Levi shoved his arms beneath your thighs, lifting you into a shameless, unhideable angle. Good thing, he mused, no more hiding. Shoulders propped at your midthigh, keeping you perched apart. Fingers wrapped around your skin, he pulled you down the bed and crashed you onto his face. Your gasp was exhausted as you tried to keep up. Both of you knew, though: you were no match. As his tongue thrust to unfathomable depths, you likewise could not conjure any idea of how to withstand this. Nose rubbed against your swollen bud, brows narrowed in determination, he looked nearly angry. Working hard for your climax, harder than he had for anything else, even his own. 

Shit…!

If this keeps up…

A telltale tide turned in your tummy, spasms sparkled along your legs. Fingernails pierced the pillowcase, fighting off your impending loss of control. You could not delay it, not unless he - You fisted your hand in his hair, and he thought this was it. Instead, you pushed him away. “L’Le-vi…” a series of rapid pants, “hah, hah, ho’ld… on!” 

His tongue flattened still. Between the vertex of your legs, his steel attention rose to you. Not anxious, but concerned, You alright? 

“I, I want -”

At those words, he once again simmered with pride, thankful you had taken his ask for what you want to heart. After a few more breaths, you managed the minimum composure to plead, “I wanna cum with you.” 

Levi’s first thought was one of generosity, you know you can have - I can give you - more than one, right? But he knew you better, and he knew what you meant. You wanted your first to be with him, and though he was parched with thirst, desperate for the taste of your cum in his mouth, your wants were foremost his. With a deep, patient breath, he watched your twitches slow to still. When the threat of your orgasm vanished, he calmly laid one final kiss to your core, etching your taste into his memory. His silver stare swallowed you down, a mental polaroid of your pose. His palm massaged your sex in physical praise, promising that he would never make you wait again, and that he’d definitely make you cum next time.

He started to ascend back up your body, but you flung yourself forward and met him halfway. Brows arched in shock, his eyes widened briefly, you closed them with another kiss. Mint flavor of before had been washed away by the taste of you. Further evidence of his devotion, you desired to prove that you were just as committed to him. You hooked your elbow to his nape and threaded fingers through his undercut - your turn to pull him here and there, granting yourself the freedom to explore the parts of him that you had always wanted to. Most of all, the length growing harder and harder to ignore. 

Still, you were conscious to withhold your rush. You endeavored to slow your pace so that you could match the one he had performed on you. How good it felt - he deserved to feel it, too. You ran your hands down his chest the way rain slid down a windshield. Levi felt his boxers turn wet when your palms pressed upon his pecs, the buds of your hands kneading his tender patches. His exhales turned crackly, his inhales uneven. Laying kisses on each of his abs, down and down his torso, your contact held the compliments you were too shy to say. He heard them and reciprocated them: arm wrapped around your waist, bruises where his fingertips pressed - he hoped they would stay till morning, and that when you saw them, you would remember the love he had shown you tonight 

Finally, you dipped your fingertips below his waistband. Sweat glazed his hips, allowing you to slide your hands in, but at this point, there was not much room for you. His erection had taken all his threads had to offer. You spared him the begging, sliding his cotton down his outstretched legs and finally releasing him from their confinement. Soaked in his own anticipation, veins visible, his arc steep. The shade of his member matched the one of his cheeks: the pink of a vulnerable blush, the crimson of ardent lust. As he watched you watch him, another dribble of clear dripped down his length. Levi grit his teeth and cursed. From stifling heat to cool air, that drench turned from comforting to exhilarating. In the wake of his tried swears, you gently cupped your hand around his girth and cleaned him as best as you could, spreading the leakage of his tip down to his base - his shaft your path. Contrast to his stress, you soothed him as you always had, just a different context this time. 

It was his turn to cling to the sheets. Hands clawed into the comforter, you watched without shame, enchanted by the way his forearms flexed. Heels ground to the mattress, toes curled in sheets. Each motion was accompanied by either a sharp inhale or short exhale. Was it sadistic or considerate of you to keep pumping him despite that? 

Levi loathed the way he stuttered through your name, on the other hand, you adored it. Levi cupped the back of your head in his hand and tugged your ear to his lips. His breath was hot on your cusp, yet somehow, it sent chills through you. Your sex had landed atop his lap, his cock nestled between your folds, still wet from his prior excursion. Pleasure had him growling, the look in his eyes both commanding and desperate, “Let me take you.”

Obliging and insisting: as one, you leaned back and he pressed forward. Your head landed atop the plump pillow, his hand beside it. Before you could blink, he had plummeted onto your lips again. This kiss was so opposite of all prior: his tongue demanding entrance, grazes of his teeth, and bites of your lip, loud and messy. You had cut Levi Ackerman to his last thread of composure, that was where you had always wanted him.

And this was how he had always wanted you: your most unabashed, honest, purest and filthiest self. He always found it so painfully obvious, how much you strained to stay prim and proper, polite and professional at work. It was why he lived for the times you slipped up: an eye roll in meetings, the long sigh after a conference call. Levi knew that the real you was there, and now you were here: in this shared bed with his shadow cast over your skin. 

There was just one thing, though, that differed from his expectations. Desire was painted on each of your features, but they were glossed in nerves. Twitches in your lip, rattle in your lungs, eyes glistening, he feared they were tears. You cinched your hand around his wrist, and he recognized that smile. It was the kind you donned when you spilled your coffee or showed up late. Adorable, but unassured, and that would not do in this context.

“You’re nervous.” Levi did not ask you, for he knew his intuition was accurate. “Wanna stop?”

You shook your head and insisted vehemently, “No.” With a tilt of your chin and arch of your back, your lips brushed his with each word you spoke. Seeped down his throat, understanding swallowed: “I want to start.”

Levi returned your characteristic smile with one of his own. Tipping your foreheads together, “You’ll let me know if you change your mind.”

An order or a question? Either way, your heart scoffed at the idea. You know how long I’ve been waiting for this? There was no chance in hell you would change your mind.

“Or if it gets too much.”

That, there was a chance of. It had taken him mere minutes between your legs to bring you to the point of screaming and to the brink of climax, but that was what you wanted. His consideration fed you calm, you fed him reassurance. The flicker in your gaze settled, meeting his of solid steel. You tucked his bangs behind his ear and affirmed, “I’m ready, Levi.”

Fronts pressed, heartbeats matching, there was only one connection left to make. By the grips of his hands on the backs of your shoulders, Levi pulled himself those last crucial inches, and closed that final gap. His tip slick with precum, your slit dripping with anticipation, yet accommodating him was no easy fit. He had spent all that time down there with the goal of making it easy on you, but watching your face scrunch and hearing your voice whine was not half bad, either. 

In fact, he had not even made it halfway in yet, and you were already writhing. Levi bit the inside of his cheek and knit his brows, careful not to push you too hard, conscious for signs of your apprehension. You sensed his wavering and clawed his back, pulling yourself further down his length.

Looking up, his expression was strained. Reaching new depths, pushing past your initial walls, his voice poured exertion. Still, he did not stop pushing. Toes arched into the mattress, calves flexed with each labored drive. Each fuck brought the two of you closer. For him, one more inch of his length. For you, one more stretch of pleasure. For the couple, a proximity you had always wanted. Each of you felt a tremendous responsibility to be the one to close that distance.

Repetition after repetition, his muted grunts melted to audible groans. The air between you was no longer saturated by your gasps alone, but his as well. His strain was the only thing that could ground you from nirvana and back down to earth. Despite his squint, he caught that transition: from the throes of sensation to the snap back to reality, all because you were concerned for his well-being. More than any sense of pleasure, your affection was what made his heart pound in his chest. Doe eyes gazed upon him, You okay?

After a series of hahs and ahs, Levi managed just a couple words, “It feels - It feels…”

Good? Bad? Your heart tensed in anticipation. Pleading and ordering, “Tell me, Levi.” 

Knuckles tight, fingers trembling, “...good!” Levi clenched his teeth and pulled himself forward with an aim of backing his words with his actions. After struggling to past your entrance, the force of this fuck brought his tip to your end, drawing shrieks from you and shock from him. Strength of his magnitude had pros and cons, he supposed. His flaws, you deemed them his perfections.

The damp of your cunt was audible, resounding throughout the room. You found yourself at an impossible choice: which was more embarrassing, your voice or your sex? Levi’s thought was similar and opposite, the same choices, just which was better? Levi decided that their symphony was best, and realized he could turn up its volume if he accelerated his pace. 

“Levi, Levi…!” To say his name came naturally, practically a swear word: the satisfaction of cursing after injury or mistake, so wrong yet so right to scream it out loud. 

Pleasurable pain when he hit your weakest points, a delightful exercise as your walls stretched to accommodate him. His eyes remained set on your face, ears tuned to your voice, translating your body language into instructions. Rapid thrusts to make you pant, but only until you started to choke on your own gasps. Then, he would decelerate, replacing speed with strength. When he filled you up, you would sigh and roll your eyes back. To Levi, that was the sign to dial it back up and get you there. 

Since this started, his read on you had been perfectly accurate. You were almost there. Simultaneously yet unknowingly, your inner voices warned: you won’t last much longer. The thing was, you didn’t want to, for you had endured so much already. The heat in your middle was unbearable now. Each nerve had been fried to its last end. This sex had gone on for hours, but your yearning had been years long. In your haze, you were blind towards any reason to deny yourself any longer. You wrapped your legs around his waist and relied on your calves to pull him closer. Bringing him to your end made Levi approach his. “Fuck…!” His voice was a low singsong, an adult lullaby. “(Y/N), (Y/N)...!” No longer a choice between deep or fast, Levi somehow managed both. Physiology threatened to overrule now. No, already…!

“(Y/N), I…I’m - ! ” His mind was racing now. Should he ask to cum or tell you he was? Should he withdraw so that you could get there first? Levi labored to open his eyes, looking to you for an answer. His senses of sight and touch told him: you were already there.

The pulsation around his cock, the steep arch of your spine, your parted lips and blissed-out face. The scrape of your nails down his back, ignorant to the possibility of hurting him. This was how Levi had always wanted it: to be the one you clung to, to offer himself when you were overwhelmed. Count on me. The orgasm that overwhelmed you now, that had been his doing, right?

Once again, it was as if you had read his mind. Without him having to ask, you answered: “Levi, Levi!!” Your hands squeezed him tight, white patches beneath your fingertips. Clinging to him, the life raft through each of your waves. “Y’Yours… I’m yours…” 

He had gifted you tissues for your crying spells at work, had picked up your lunch on the way back from break, but this provision was far preferable, much more fulfilling. Even as you turned his skin red, even as your legs clenched him and squeezed air from his lungs - no, even better - those were precisely the motions that pushed him over the edge. 

One hand clutched the top of the headboard, tight enough that you heard the wood wince. The other caressed your face with feathered tenderness. In that difference, you were once again reminded of his duality: on one hand, a hardass, but for you, a soft spot. Those dimensions were reflected in his voice, too: swears that made your ears burn and groans that turned the air heavy, yet arid gasps that lifted your soul and praise fit for a princess. While your cunt had run raw and slippery from his fucking, his warm cum filled you and soothed your stings. 

As you both came to, Levi lingered inside, patiently waiting until each of your waves crashed - savoring them. With a deep swallow and a delicate nod, he ensured he would handle your aftercare. Kleenex from the nightstand folded and padded against your sex. You sat up in panic, worried about the clean freak’s reaction, but he seemed particularly satisfied. Maybe it wasn’t that he hated filth, but that he loved clean-up. You bit your lip and bit back a smile, believing that the sex tonight had evidenced that.

Though his aftercare was doing much for your affection, it did pathetically little when it came to cleanliness. Both of you realized, not even the entire box would be enough. Levi looked at the wad of tissues in his hand, shook his head, and scowled, nearly laughing at the ineffectiveness. “We’re filthy.” 

Slowly, you made your way to his side. Carefully, you reached your arms around his back. Wrapped within your grasp, you leaned him back against your chest and whispered into his ear, “Good thing there’s a shower.”

Levi spun just enough to meet your eye contact, once again checking to see if he had heard you right. Three hours ago, he would have defaulted towards the no, always having believed one could not be let down if they did not get their hopes up. Over the years and especially tonight, your optimism was swaying that opinion. Your sound smile and unafraid stare confirmed: after all that mess, you were also keen for cleanliness. In post-coital clarity, he saw how stupid he had been to wait this long, and Levi almost said those three sacred words right then and there. 

But this was only the first night of the trip.

And the first day of the rest of your lives.

// masterlist //

[izzysarchivedblogs]

@mr-tony-stark liked for a starter (post here)! you get clint barton!

Visitors aren't unwelcome at the Barton-Pizza Dog residence. In fact, he gets more than he has fingers to count. Typically, there are two reasons that people come to his apartment unannounced.

They were angry with him, or they needed a place to lie low.

A secret third option which was really just option one was they were angry and they were his exes. That last part was important information because he's got a list of exes that were his fault things ended and they were relatively on good terms. For the most part, save for Jessica.

Clint's not even aware the door is being pounded on until Lucky is jumping on his chest and pestering to get to the door. It was suppose to be a lazy day albeit being a Monday.

Ugh, Mondays.

No one should be popping by, not even Kate. The super secret fourth option for reasons why people came to the apartment, Kate Bishop, mini-him with less mistakes.

"That's quite enough, Luck." He utters, knowing that the dog is barking as he saunters to the doorway and much to his surprise. It's Tony Stark.

What could he be doing here? He's not Kate Bishop, he is not an ex. There doesn't seem to be an angry expression on his brow, and Tony has money enough to buy a private island to lay low on.

Before he is standing there dumbstruck for too long, he points a finger up to his face. "Sign, text me, or let me gets the aids in." No way is he trying to lip read after waking from a nap, it'd be like fifteen percent less accurate than he normally could lip read and that was only about thirty percent accuracy most of the time anyways.

Wait. Tony would totally blow up his phone before showing up unannounced-

"Oh! Right, so my phone got dropped off a building."

Clint's leaving the door wide open, turning away to go retrieve his hearing aids from the kitchen while he lets Tony deal with Lucky whose sniffing at his knee and checking out the hallway.

"What's up? No Avenger business, right? I told you I'm off duty."

[splickedylit]

Things I never get tired of writing

weird cultural worldbuilding, especially with strange, intricate social norms and power dynamics

characters playing little made up card games with implied bizarre, convoluted rules where I blatantly rip off the vibe of Pokemon, MTG, Duel Monsters/Yugioh etc

we see one of my favs from an outside POV: they are hot, badass, terrifying, tragic, or any/all of the above

[iminkandpaper]

Favourite genre of fanfics is Found Family: Accidental Dad Edition

[heazueken]

Partake

*ೃ༄ summary: Hibiki, wounded and exhausted from the fight previous confides in Vampire!Suguru for some comfort in front of the fire. Oh and Satoru just so happens to be sleeping not too far away from them...

warning(s): MDNI, explicit sexual content, blood drinking, biting, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering and some slight voyeurism?

pairing(s): Kubo Hibiki(oc)/Geto Suguru

w/c; 8.6k

a/n: Thank you so much @stsgooo for letting me adopt your JJK oc Hibiki for this! We've been conversing about a vampire au for a bit now and i could not get rid of the brain worms. This is self indulgent but does play into the plot we created and just a little backstory - Satoru and Suguru work for Hibiki to eradicate pure blood vampires in exchange for Hibiki's life (she she doesnt know that..) this is just a small scene that takes place after a rather nasty fight :) hope you enjoy!

______________________________________________

    Satoru had fallen asleep on the chaise lounge tucked in the corner of the room by the time Suguru had finished wiping Hibiki’s wounds clean. He laid her on the carpet in front of the fire place that was lit ablaze, illuminating only a portion of the large living area. The light flickered over her face, her eyes barely opening as she watched Suguru dress her cuts and bruises.

    “You really don’t need to be doing this.” Her voice is quiet so as to not wake Satoru up. The fire licks over Suguru’s eyes when his eyes flutter up to look into hers, his eyes a hint of red in the warm flame. There’s a determination in the way he looks at her and his hand tightens its grip around her wrist, pushing more blood out in an attempt to stop the bleeding. 

    He knows why she’s saying this. He can feel it, the ball forming in his throat. The gurgling in his stomach, his fangs growing prominent inside his mouth. He was an animal, he knew this, it was natural for his body to react this way. Drool had dripped from out of his mouth when he had to carry her back to the estate, a bloody mess (himself too.) The wafting of iron and this sweetness of her blood had overcome his senses, he had to fight back the urge to pounce and drink her up then and there. Thank god Satoru had been there to help him keep a level head. 

    Not yet. We gain her trust, then we feast and get the fuck out of here. He had said with his stare when they supported her by the waist to make quick work back to the house.

    Suguru felt something strange though when he held the cloth to Hibiki’s wrist and pressed hard, watching the blood soak into the material. Sure, his body was kicking into its natural instinct, but as far as what he felt in his heart and mind; He didn’t want to feast on Hibiki, no matter how hungry he was. 

    He had used up a lot of energy, his own wounds finally healed over and they had cut deep. It takes a good while for a slash like the one he got to fade away and he had used up the rest of his energy to heal it in under ten minutes so he could prioritize Hibiki’s safety. He had to be strong for her. But why? When had he begun to feel for her this way? Was it when she had let them free and made a deal with them? Or maybe it was the fact that she gave them new clothes and fresh food that would at least suppress their temptation (she took to giving them a dose of pig's blood to help satisfy them. It would never compare to the taste of human blood but it was close enough for their desperation at the time). Or maybe it was her kindness. Despite this human being a hunter for his people, she had confessed to him that she wanted to help the ones who were turned by pure blood vampires - like Suguru and Satoru. She had shown him her lab, shown the collection of blood, teeth, and her books with her own research. Hibiki never looked at him like he was a monster, it was more like she looked at him like he was still an ordinary human. Suguru hadn’t been looked at like that in a long time, and that’s what made his heart crack and open to let a piece of her crawl in and find its home within him.

    He couldn’t tell Satoru. Never. He had to keep this a secret.

    “You’re bleeding a lot and you don’t have the strength right now to be doing this for yourself.” He says it like it doesn’t bother him, like his teeth aren’t poking out of his mouth and he keeps swallowing because his mouth is watering.

    “I know this is torture for you, Suguru. You’re exhausted.” She reaches her free hand over to place her hand over the large one holding the fabric to her open wound. Her fingers are cold and when Suguru looks at her, she’s pale. Dried blood begins to crack on her forehead and she gives him a weak smile. The flames behind her illuminate her hair when she groans and finds the strength to sit up. Suguru regards her for a bit before his attention is turned to where her hand is still over his. 

    “You need to feast before I can let you help me anymore. Please.” She tries to pry his hand off, his fingers loosen and the rag is raised with his hand.

    The smell overtakes him, blood already beading past the broken skin and just the sight of it has him turning his head away and covering his mouth in an attempt to repress the instinct to lick and lap and suck. Hibiki watches this, her hair falling over her face and gauging her own safety through strands of hair. She had been afraid at first, of course. They could have very well been planning to feast on her from the start, she had been prepared for that moment and it didn’t go unnoticed - the way Satoru had looked at her at times had her thinking that maybe, just maybe, they whispered to each other about their schemes to bring a downfall upon her and leave her for dead and a husk of skin.

    But the way Suguru turned away, the way he almost seemed disgusted with himself when she had shown him her blood had her thinking that maybe something had changed between them. She could admit to her own feelings about Suguru, she was fond of him. Incredibly fond of him, he was tall, dark, handsome, he was kind and soft, gentle with her and regarded her with respect she had never seen from a vampire. She didn’t need to be reminded that before those marks on his neck, before his suffering at the fangs of some pure blood, he was just a boy. A human who didn’t have to live in fear, who didn’t have to kill to survive. She was very fond of Suguru, she was sure of that.

    Hibiki raises her arm towards him, her fist tapping his shoulder for his attention. He looks over to her, his eyes meeting hers first and she can see them bloodshot, slowly turning red even in the dim flame light. Then his eyes trail to her cut, already trickling down and a droplet falls onto the carpet beneath them. They widen, and he firmly holds his hand to his mouth. He looks at her again and Hibiki is telling him, showing him what he has to do.

    It’s unspoken, what she wants him to do, and he doesn’t need the words to know. He shakes his head, his voice muffled. 

    “I can’t, Hibiki…What if I lose control and then I-“

    “You won’t. I trust you.” There are no tricks, she has no weapons and he knows that because he helped her undress into just her undergarments, releasing the hidden away silver and knives stashed against her thighs, waist, and inside her boots. She sits before him with such trust, she might as well be a full course meal on a platter for him. That metallic smell found its way through his fingers and into his nose, the smell making his drool produce tenfold.

    “Suguru, please. Do this for me.” For her? For her? How could any of this be for her? Here Hibiki is, risking her life inside her own home by offering her wound to a man-eater, a monster of the night, a vampire. His mind began to feel fuzzy when he parts his lips and tastes the smell on the roof of his mouth, a shudder overcoming him. He finally turns to her, slowly lowering his hand with a struggle. His chin is wet, and he feels droplets of saliva drip onto his clothes when he leans closer. 

    He reaches over to where he had dropped her dagger in a haste to get it off of her and let it topple over to the floor. He forces the dagger into her hand, curling her fingers over the hilt of it.

    “You use that in case I go too far. Got it?”

    She nods and he senses no fear from her. Suguru’s eyes flicker back to her arm, he grabs the rag he had used and wraps it on her under arm, catching some of the dripping blood. The room feels like it’s closing in when he lifts her arm closer to his face, his mouth on its descent to bridge the gap between his fangs and her delicate skin. Hibiki watches with a curious look, like how you would watch an animal in the wild when it hunts for its prey, catches it and eats it. Her eyes widen with wonder and he looks beautiful like this. The way the flames lick across his skin, making his skin look warmer than it is, the way his eyelashes cast a shadow over his cheeks, his mouth opening and his tongue creeping its way out until it reaches her cut.

    The taste…the taste is better than he expected. Nothing could compare to the way Hibiki tasted, no finest red wine, no fancy meal, no delectable dessert could compare to the sweetness of her blood. It overwhelmed his taste buds with a sweet, warm, metallic taste. Maybe it was his feelings for her that elevated the taste and sent a shiver down his spine, or maybe it was just her and the fact that she was blessed with liquid gold for vampires. His lips took over and wrapped around the skin and his fangs pressed fully against the skin making it pliable and his saliva worked as a numbing agent to dull the pain when he had to use the sharp ends of his teeth to reach further in and gather more blood.

    Hibiki gasps, not because of the pain but because of the pleasure that washes over her. It had taken her aback, adrenaline suddenly coursing through her veins and a second wave of strength sprang forth and her limbs felt almost numb. Or perhaps it was Suguru’s saliva. She learned very quickly of vampires and the properties of their spit, using it to numb their victims, or - if skilled enough - it could work as a healing serum and completely close any wound. Although, the larger or deeper the wound, the more saliva it would take. 

    Suguru’s saliva worked to numb her body, feeling loose and good, working almost like a drug. Her eyelids feel heavy and she watches through a blurry gaze him suck more blood from her, his fingers grasping tightly and nails digging into her skin. He’s so beautiful like this.

    “Good…you taste so good, Hibiki,” he gasps when he breaks from her skin for a moment. Her eyes are able to widen when the cold air hits her cut and she can see the blood has almost completely stopped flowing. She gasps too when Suguru is lifting the rag off her arm and his tongue is making long stripes to clean where it has trickled around and down her arm. Warmth spreads across her body and Suguru’s eyes crack open to look at her. His stare is…dark but not in a vampiric way where there’s a murderous intent behind those eyes but more like…one that holds a hunger to be closer to her. To touch her. She watches the way his tongue laps at the dried blood, the way it trails back up to the source and gives her wound a long, firm lick. The wound closes behind the path of his tongue, leaving just a divot of skin that trails up to her wrist. 

    Color is restored back to Suguru’s face when he pulls away slowly, a bridge of spit breaking between them. He inspects the scar for a second, his other fingers trailing over it and swiping the healing property around it in hopes to make it go away further.

    “I think that’s all I can do with what you’ve given me,” he says quietly, there’s a bit of regret in his voice and Hibiki wonders if it’s because he had to feast on her or the fact that he had to stop. Whatever it was she knew she didn’t want him to stop there, she wanted to feel that shudder, that drive, that high again. She doesn’t say a thing when she’s raising to her knees, her hand finding purchase on his shoulder and she looks down on him. His eyes grow in size when he lifts his head, if his blood could circulate more properly he’d have flushed cheeks.

    Hibiki sets herself into Suguru’s lap, her thighs on either side of his waist, the position has him bracing his hand behind himself to hold himself up and Hibiki’s neck is right in front of his line of sight. There’s a large bandage that he applied to her right shoulder, where beneath it laid a large scratch and had been the one to bleed the most. 

    Suguru’s eyes flicker to it then to her face where she was looking at him, her pupils blown out, cheeks blushing red - the color traveling down her sternum and where her breasts began. He looks away quickly and is stuttering, shifting underneath her and feeling her groin meet his perfectly. He gasps, turning away again.

    “Wh-what are you-“ Habiki lowers her bra strap that rests just before where the bandage starts. Then she’s pulling away the tape Suguru had placed to keep it there, he glances to watch the bandage reveal the brown shade of older blood, the cut crusty and scabbing over and his breaths become shallow when she leans in close to him.

    “More. You need to have more.” She sounded seductive, her voice low and with a drunken drawl that almost had him giving in already. Lord, she made him so weak! How?! How could she have found her way into his life like this and improve it in such a way? He breaks out of his trance when her breasts press into his chest and she’s encouraging him to turn his attention to her shoulder. He looks up at her again before asking,

    “This isn’t a good thing to be doing, you know that right? It’s not smart.”

    Hibiki looks down at him, then her eyes glance back to where Satoru lay in the corner, his back turned to them. Then she looks back down at Suguru and gives an uneasy look.

    “It isn’t. But I trust you. I want to help you,” her hand cups over his cheek and they stare at each other for a moment. The sound of the fire crackling, the soft sound of their breaths mixing together, the smell of her enveloping him like a warm blanket. His eyes shut and he leans into her touch and he cups his hand over hers, cocking his head to plant a kiss inside her palm.

    “You tell me when to stop…and you keep that dagger on you.”

    “You’re repeating yourself, Suguru. I know that alrea- Ah-!” He bites into her wound to silence her, separating the skin and letting more blood flood into his mouth. Hibiki’s hand swoops to the back of his head to grip a fistful of his hair and her face ducks into the crown of his head, biting her bottom lip to fight back anymore moans. Suguru breaks from her, mouth bloody and fangs coated in red, gasps of breath releasing from him.

    “You need to be quiet. Satoru could wake up at any moment.” 

    She responds with a tug on his hair and a pout, “You didn’t warn me, asshole,” she whispers aggressively. He smirks against her skin and she lets herself smile a little bit, the excitement of their transgressions igniting an arousal between them. Suguru’s hands find comfort on her naked waist, cold hands against warm and malleable skin. His hands grip Hibiki with a strength that sets her skin ablaze and her hands gather more of his hair to ground herself and hold onto her sanity. She feels it slipping, the fuzziness returning when he suckles on her shoulder and lets his spit coat her skin - helping the wound close.

    Suguru could feel his own sanity slipping when she grabbed him, pulled at his hair, had her lips pressed into his temple and was whimpering as his tongue made long licks across her skin. The whole thing had been erotic from the beginning, it usually was meant to be. He had never had a victim that didn’t let him bite willingly, he was a natural seducer and would take anyone to bed and be able to make them turn into a moaning mess like this before sinking his teeth into their neck and draining them of their blood. The taste of Hibiki’s blood was now the only thing he would crave for the rest of his time on earth, and he didn’t plan on letting her go that easily. His arms wrapped around her as he finished lapping her up and healing her in the process. 

    He’s aroused. He can feel it when Hibiki scoots her hips in a certain way and he can feel her core graze over where he’s hard. He reaches to her shoulder to swipe her hair to the side, the skin practically glowing in the light, inviting him for another taste, another bite. He shouldn’t, he knows not to…but…she’s in his lap, letting him do this. She wanted this for him, surely she would know the consequences with trusting a blood-sucker! He reasons with himself in a drunken stupor of her smell and taste and finds himself opening his mouth and grazing his teeth over her soft skin. Hibiki lets out a sigh, her whole body shuddering under him and she presses her hips back down to grind herself over his hardened cock. There’s a choked sound that leaves his mouth and his eyes shoot open to stare at the opposite wall of him, staring into one of the many paintings Hibiki had hanging inside her estate. The depiction of a woman with a dagger, holding a man down and slicing his neck open, the man clearly in anguish during his last moments stares back at Suguru. Something clicks inside him and he’s quickly shutting his jaw tight and pulling away, resisting any urges to feast on her.

    I’m sorry, Satoru. I need to keep her. His brows furrow together at the thought of having to explain this to his white haired friend. He simply can’t, Satoru wouldn’t understand. He was stubborn and brash and self centered and held too tightly to his word. He could never see how precious and beautiful the woman who sat in his lap was, he could never understand Suguru’s feelings for her. Whatever relationship Hibiki and Satoru had before he had been turned into a monster crumbled to pieces and there was no way of fixing it, not after what they went through at the hands of Toji.

    Suguru wraps his arms fully around Hibiki and holds her close, that arousal grows inside him and he’s hiding his face into the crook of her neck to muffle a groan that leaves his mouth. 

    “Suguru,” Hibiki whispers, her fingers now sifting through his long hair. He hums an acknowledgment, What?

    “Will you…can we…” She pulls away slightly, enough to meet his eyes, his are back to normal now. He’s done drinking her up, but the gaze he held is still one of hunger. So is hers.

    Her hand swipes over his neck, then to his jaw where she let her fingertips draw a path to his parted lips. She places her index finger over his bottom lip and pulls it down slightly, her eyes half lidded.

    “Can you kiss me?” 

    Can he kiss her? Of course he can, why would she ask such a ridiculous thing? Suguru doesn’t say anything but supports the back of her head with his hand and strains his neck up to meet her lips in a firm kiss. Her lips part and his join as well when they swiftly take a breath and weave their lips together again. He’s cold and it sends a wave of goosebumps to travel down her arms, but she doesn’t stop, she can’t stop. He tastes metallic, that iron still faintly on his tongue when he swipes it against her mouth - asking for an invitation to connect his tongue with hers. Hibiki opens her mouth, letting him in with eagerness that has her back arching and feeling his hard-on poking her inner thigh, eliciting a moan into his needy mouth. He silences her whimpers with an intense kiss, their lips moving in unison, their breath mixing together and panting together. 

    He needs her, he needs to have her right here. It doesn’t matter that Satoru could wake up at any point, anymore. He needed to take her right here and there, and she was just as eager to get the same from him. The way she grabs at the collar of his shirt, pulling it thinking it could somehow make him closer than he already is (it couldn’t) has Suguru almost whining too. She kisses him feverishly like at any minute he’d pull away and leave her there, wet and begging. He leans forward, getting onto his knees, his hands supporting her back and lifting her. His strength is clearly back and he lays her flush against the carpet, not once breaking their kiss until she locks her ankles over his back and she’s letting her head rest on the floor.

    They stare at each other with their faces inches away as they catch their breath. That iron smell still tainting his breath and traveling into Hibiki’s nose. Her hands grip his shirt and tug him to be closer, their noses brush together and her lips ghost over Suguru’s when she whispers to him.

“Will you fuck me, Suguru?”

    His breath catches in his throat at the bluntness of the question, the language makes his face flush slightly and he’s ducking his head into her chest. His bangs fall against her skin and he’s screwing his eyes shut at just the idea of being connected to her in such a way. Him inside her, her sounds, the way she would cling to him, the way he’d cling to her. He’d whisper filthy things into her ear. He’d been thinking about this for so long, late into the night after Hibiki and Satoru fell fast asleep he’d dream about this very moment. Having it come to life like this had been much more nerve wracking than he thought it would be. 

    “We shouldn’t…I want to…I want you but,” He looks at her with concern. “Satoru…” He glances back over to him, still fast asleep. Hibiki bites her cheek in thought for a second, staring at their albino friend before she’s leaning up again and whispering to him.

    “I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

    It’s mischievous, it’s cruel, it’s betrayal on Suguru’s end. 

    “I don’t know…” He wants to give in, he wants to know what she feels like and he wants to feel her skin and body give in to his touches and presses and he wants to feel his cock slide into her. It would be so easy to just push her underwear to the side and fuck her sensless.

    Suddenly Hibiki is forcing his mouth open with her fingers, Suguru lets out a sound of surprise and he feels her thumb nick his sharp canine. He blurts her name, but then the taste of her blood coats his tongue once more and he’s immediately silenced when that warmth floods his body. His limbs go numb, weighing down on Hibiki’s body as he gives into the taste of her, letting it control him because oh does it taste so sweet. She could make him do anything if she offered her blood like this.

    She kisses him again on his bottom lip and keeps her thumb pressing on the softness of his tongue.

“Please…I want you to fuck me.”

    All reason and consequences are thrown out the window when she asks again because he wants her just as bad. His hands grip at her waist and he pushes himself up till he’s leaning far enough that he can freely touch her whenever he desires. His hands follow where his eyes go, first he starts at the base of her neck, her skin red with desire and she’s so warm. Her heart is beating so fast and hard when he presses his fingertips further down, teasing at the cup of her bra. Her chest rises and falls with anticipation, watching with a glossy look as his fingers pull away, releasing her breast free from its confines, her bra strap following suit.

    He breathes, taking in the sight of her half naked, the firelight flickering and illuminating her in such a way that it felt like time began to slow and everything began to disappear around them. Then it was just Suguru and Hibiki.

    He confesses, “I’ve thought about this for so long.” He feels a relief to finally be saying it. He’s not confessing his undying love, but here he is showing her a part of himself he had been so scared to. Afraid of her rejection, of her disgust with him. But he knows she would never react like that. He knows that now.

    “What,” Hibiki chuckles, a playful smirk, “You’ve been thinking about fucking me on a carpet in front of your best friend?”

    He chokes on his objections, making Hibiki giggle and lean up to give his cheek a chaste kiss. “I’m teasing.” Her hand cups his cheek and rubs her thumb over his lips. 

    “I’ve thought about this too…If I’m being honest. I’ve thought about it a lot.” There’s a new found confidence that awakens inside Suguru when the same confession stumbles out of her and he’s ducking his head, his chin pressing into the underside of her breast, his breath fanning over her nipple.

    “Really? What did you think about?” He dares, his mouth parting and morphing into an open smile, showing off his fangs to Hibiki. She shudders under him, biting her lip and meeting his stare with half the confidence of his. 

    “Well…I, uh-“

    “Lemme guess, you also thought about me fucking you right on this carpet in front of Satoru, too.” Hibiki’s eyes squint at him in a glare and she sticks her tongue out at him.

    “Oh, har har, Suguru.” He chuckles and kisses her breast, making her breath cut short before she’s continuing. “I was gonna say before you rudely interrupted - I’ve thought about the way you’d touch me.”

    The room grew warm. 

    “Oh yeah? How did you picture me touching you?” Their voices are so low, only able to hear between them. Suguru’s other hand grips the other cup to her bra and forces it down to match the other. His eyes don’t break from Hibiki’s even with her chest fully exposed to him now. Instead he stares her down, waiting for an answer. Her face is crimson, he can tell even in the low light and her lips part to stutter a little.

    “I pictured…your hands touching my chest…” Suguru’s hand cups over her breast, enveloping the whole thing with one hand, his thumb presses into her nipple. He can sense her heartbeat quicken when they’re so close like this, and he can see her throat bob as she swallows hard.

    “Yeah? What else?”

    She squirms. “You using your mouth…and biting into me…licking me.” It’s erotic and filthy and something he has thought of too. Biting into the soft fat of her breast and wrapping his mouth around her nipple, giving a good suck. His mouth inches closer, her nipple rising to its peak under his cold breath. 

    “You want me to bite you?” She only sighs in response, taking that as a yes. He can’t say he’ll be able to control himself after a fourth taste of her blood. Every drop seemed to fill him with such power, he was afraid he’d completely lose his head and drink her up until there was nothing left of her. So instead, he leans in close, opens his mouth and drags the tip of his tongue from the underside of her breast to her nipple. He wraps his lips around it and sucks, his tongue flicks against the bud and he finally hears the faintest moan come from Hibiki’s mouth. He sucks harder, knowing full well there would be a mark, his other hand gropes at the other breast, pinching her nipple between his index finger and thumb. He releases the hardened peak to take a breather but lets his tongue lap and flick on her skin. Hibiki shoots a hand over her mouth to conceal the onslaught of whimpering. Her knees drive together and dig into his rib cage as his mouth finds itself on her other breast - doing the same thing. 

    “I’ll admit,” Suguru begins, letting his thumb replace his mouth for a second, “I didn’t think you’d have to be so quiet…I always imagined letting you be as loud as you can.” He sounds almost disappointed, and she’d agree with him as well. Hibiki nods, breathing heavily through her nose when his mouth is on her again.

    “One day, aah, one day I’ll let you hear me proper.” She gasps out, arching her back off the carpet.

    “Promise?” Suguru sucks on her skin and leaves a dark mark in its wake.

    “I promise.” 

    Suguru’s hands travel down after she speaks, his mouth not leaving her as they go down, down and down until they’re back on her waist. His fingers grip and press into the skin, practically feeling the blood pump throughout her body. He can feel her heartbeat under his teeth and tongue, he can taste the salty sweat on her skin and it makes him crave more of her. He wants to sink his teeth deep and suck and he knows she wants the same thing. But he’s taken too much already. His hands find her hips, his fingers slender and long against the fabric of her underwear. He releases her nipple with a soft pop and smooths over her hickey with his wet tongue.

    “Any other fantasies you’d like to share with me?” He asks with a whisper. His mouth trails kisses down her breasts, following the natural path down her body. His lips press and leave wet marks, making a trail down to her navel where her stomach twitches under the sensation. Hibiki has to struggle not to release any of the sounds she wants to. She wants to beg for him, whimper his name and moan for him. She wants to hear him too, needs to memorize the way he would say her name when he’s fucking into her, memorize the way he’d grab her by her hips, lift her up and fuck her hard and fast like that. But with their circumstances at hand she was happy enough to whisper to one another and promise a next time.

    “I’ve thought about the way you’d touch me…” She confesses with a sigh of relief when his fingers hook around the hem of her underwear.

    Suguru cocks a brow and looks up at her then. “Now who’s repeating themselves, hm? And how did you picture me touching you?”

    “You know how, Suguru…c’mon…” She huffs.

    He releases a laugh from his nose and his lips plant more kisses around her belly button, her warmth increasing the lower he gets and it makes his cock twitch in his pants. He was having fun - teasing her like this, especially when his fingers lowered the thin piece of fabric to reveal the beginnings of coarse hair. Then he pulls the fabric taught and releases it with a hard snap! and Hibiki gasps. 

    “Tell me, Hibiki.” He demands and it makes her whole body shudder and she could feel herself getting wetter by the second.

    “Fuck- Your hands…I thought about your hands spreading me open…and your fingers…fucking into me…” She gasps through her fingers, covering her mouth in an attempt to lower her volume. She sees Satoru shift in the corner and groan in his sleep. Fucking shut up, Hibiki! She chastises herself. Suguru hums, his voice vibrating against her skin when he plants more kisses down her navel and to where her underwear begins.

    He lifts his head then, his fingers place themselves over her core and he feels just how hot and wet she’s gotten since this all began. Suguru watches as Hibiki’s face contorts, her mouth hangs open just slightly, her eyes glaze over with a need that’s apparent and her face flushes even more. She makes eye contact with him, a determination flashes across her gaze and she’s lifting her hips in an effort to create friction between her core and his fingers.

    “Suguru…please.” His fingers rub her achingly slow, up and down he goes, watching the way she twitches and tightens her knees around him in the process. He pulls away at the hem of her underwear to see her soaking wet, glistening under the light and making his mouth water at the sight. He dips a finger between her folds and with a curious touch, he swipes up to where her hood sits aching and enlarged. Suguru purposely avoids it and goes to rub around it, slicking her up and watching the way her hole clenches and unclenches around nothing, waiting for him to enter her. He can hear her whimper quietly, her hand reaching down to grab his wrist and guide him to where she needs him most.

    He grabs her back, forcing her wrist away and he hmphs in disappointment with her action.

    “Let me do it.”

    “You’re going too slow,” Hibiki practically cries. Suguru smiles at the triumph of finally having her like this, begging, wet, and weeping for him and only him.

    “You want me to finger you?” She nods in response. He lets go of her wrist and his index and middle finger stick between her folds, feeling the softness of her entrance.

    “You’re so wet, Hibiki.” His eyes flit up to hers.

    “You’ve fingered yourself thinking about me, haven’t you?”

    Hibiki nods again, her hair splaying out around her head and she draws her thighs together but only squeezes once more around Suguru’s body. His fingers dip further in, teasing her, before pulling back out.

     Suguru takes a deep breath in. 

    “Show me.” He demands.

    “Huh?” Hibiki leans her head up to look at him.

    “Show me how you fingered yourself when you thought about me.”

    Her eyes widen and her heart rises into her throat, heat spreading over her body and making her blush all over. She shakes her head, biting her lip to contain the embarrassment she suddenly feels.

    “You’re crazy…right here?” Suguru gives her a single nod. 

   Hibiki’s arousal increases when he’s holding her panties to the side and she slowly guides her hand to her inner thigh. Her chin trembles and she draws her fingers across herself, shocked at just how wet he made her. Even by herself she could never get herself this slick and hot. Her fingers spread apart to open herself up and show him just how much she was dripping, she dips a middle finger inside herself. Slick and warm, she sucks in the digit easily and she pumps it inside her a few times before including a second finger. She throws her head to the side, eyes naturally shutting to imagine it was his hand instead of hers. Soft huffs of breath escape from her as her fingers curl inside herself, the wet sound filling the room when she finds that spot inside herself and thrusts against it with the pads of her fingers. Hibiki chews on her lip to contain her moans, almost completely forgetting Suguru was there when she drew a leg up and her knee pressed into the side of his face. He grabs her ankle and forces her leg back down, a gasp escapes her and he’s pushing her leg open and holds her thigh down against the carpet.

    He wants to stop her and take over, he knows he can do a better job. He can reach further and find the perfect spot to make her whine his name and cry out for him. But still he watches and his eyes wander all over her as she squirms and starts feeling up her own breast in the heat of the moment. Suguru’s eyes widen when he hears the squelching and he looks down to see her fingers coming back out dripping clear and creamy and thrusting back in with a filthy sound that has him twitching in his pants.

    “Suguru,” Hibiki says softly, her voice quiet and small. Something she was the opposite of. She almost forgot he was still there until his thumb starts rubbing over her inner thigh in a comforting manner.

    He needs her now.

    Suguru stops her, pulls her hand away and Hibiki opens her eyes just in time to watch him raise her fingers to his mouth and lick them clean. His tongue laps up the saltiness and he breathes hot and heavy. Even this tastes amazing to him. He locks eyes with her when he sucks on her index finger and does the same to her middle one. He kisses the wet fingertips and then down the length of her finger to then kiss her palm.

    “I need you. I need to fuck you now.” She wouldn’t object to that.

    She’s leaning on her elbows when he makes quick work with his pants, the buckle wrapped around him clicking out of place and the soft sound of his zipper, lowering them just far enough to pull himself out of his undergarments. He’s hard, and bigger than she thought he’d be. His tip drips precum and he’s already giving himself a few tugs, groaning lowly and ducking his chin into his chest.

    “Fuck…” He sighs, his hair hanging over his face and toppling over his shoulders. Hibiki watches the way his arm seems to grow veins when his hand tightens around his cock and he pulls his foreskin over his tip and then back down, his movements are slow and controlled. She wonders how often he had done this and thought of her, she suddenly had the idea to turn the tables and demand he show her how he’d touch himself when he thought of her. She doesn’t need to ask because his mouth begins chanting her name, his brows pinch together and his chest heaves when his hips seem to gain a mind of their own and he thrusts into his hand.

    “You’re gonna get yourself off before you even fuck me, Suguru,” Hibiki says with a small voice. She reaches upwards to tug at the collar of his shirt. His attention is back to her, eyes shooting open and looking at her with a flushed face. His lips are still wet from their kisses and his attack on her breasts, his eyes seem bigger than before and he’s looking at her with a wonder. 

    “Sorry, I’m sorry. Here-“ He scoots closer between her legs, spreading her legs and bending them at the knee so they lay over her torso. Suguru places a hand on the underside of her thigh to hold her open, then he’s grabbing his hard-on and moving closer to press his thighs against the back of hers and his cock sits along the strip of her core. 

    There’s a pause between them. Hibiki’s holding her breath, waiting for Suguru to push himself past her threshold and fill her to the brim. Suguru lets silence fill the room before he’s swallowing the ball that’s formed in his throat and looks at Hibiki with a worried gaze.

    “You sure about this? You really want this.”

    Hibiki somehow spreads herself further apart, his cock now flush against her wetness. She shimmies her hips until his tip barely catches over her entrance and slips past and runs against her clit.

    “I’m sure…just fuck me, Suguru.”

    That’s all the permission he needs.

    He holds his dick in his hand, rubs the underside of his tip against her to lather himself up in her natural lubricant. He slaps it against her clit a few times, then thrusts up and down to completely coat himself with her. He braces himself, slips his hands beneath her waist and hoists Hibiki’s hips up. Having this angle is perfect, the head of his cock easily slips inside and she’s practically sucking him in, giving into his length and girth so easily. It was as if she had been made to fit him perfectly, her walls squishy and wet around him, pulling him in and holding tightly when his pelvis presses flush against her. They both release their breath, Hibiki’s letting her head drop back onto the carpet and she’s drawing her knees together and she squeezes harder around Suguru.

    “Fuck- Hibiki,” He pulls out just slightly to see the way her slick covered him. Her hole clenches around him so expertly that he has trouble pulling out completely. He grunts, pulling out just until he sees the ridge where his tip begins and he’s suddenly thrusting back in, this time with a harder slam. It jolts Hibiki’s body, sending a cry out before she’s covering her mouth again to hide her indecency. Her legs separate from one another as Suguru thrusts out and back in again, his skin smacks against her quietly, he holds her thigh open still and his other hand presses below her bellybutton.

    He can feel it. Suguru can feel his dick inside her when he thrusts in, seeing the slight bulge of his dick deep inside her. It ignites something in him, something akin to the way he feels when he drinks her blood. It’s animalistic and passionate, his hand is sliding to grab her hip and digs his thumb so roughly into her hip that he knows there would be a bruise. Hibiki doesn’t seem to mind, in fact she welcomes the way he grips her and the way his hips are now snapping to thrust into her quick and hard. She bites the inside of her cheek, her head thrashing back and forth as Suguru’s dick reaches a depth to her she didn’t know was possible. She’s somehow growing wetter and wetter by every thrust, it sends a heat throughout her body, sweat forming across her forehead.

    She reaches up, hands blindly finding anything of Suguru to cling onto. She finds the collar of his shirt again, pulling him down with a startled groan and he’s got his hands on either side of her face so as to not drop his entire weight upon her. His hips still for a moment when their eyes meet, the tips of their noses touching one another’s. 

    Hibiki’s reading his eyes, he’s begging for her, she can see it. The way his eyes squint and his eyebrows duck in a way that tells her he wants to keep going. She tilts her chin up, grazing her lips over his before wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pulling him so close so they’re chest-to-chest. Her legs wrap around his back again and she’s moving his hair out of the way to whisper into his ear.

    “Don’t stop. Keep going…please.”

    His thrusting continues, one arm immediately wrapping around her back and pulling her back up off the carpet, his cock thrusting into her and the lewd sounds of her being so wet for him and their grunts and moans mix with the sound of the crackling fire.

    “Beautiful…You’re so beautiful like this,” he says with a softness that melts Hibiki’s heart. It’s genuine, the way his voice cracks when he says it and the way his cheeks grow redder at the mention. His face digs into her neck, his sharp teeth trailing up and down her neck in a teasing way. The pleasure begins to build and coil inside Hibiki’s bowels. Something begins to tighten and it causes her toes to curl and her body becomes almost limp in Suguru’s arms. She barely even registers his compliment and instead grapples onto his shirt and presses her face into his neck to quiet the squeaks of pleasure that escape from her when Suguru fucks into her with vigor.

    His passion grows, his cock twitches inside her and his forehead presses into her shoulder to steady himself. Suguru slides a hand between their hot and sweaty bodies. Trailing down and down until he feels that coarse hair again and the fabric that is pulled to the side and dripping with Hibiki’s arousal. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing around it and searching for a sign of her getting close. His eyes crack open to watch the way a vein pops out of the side of her neck, blood rushing up into her face as that coil tightens even faster after he’s begun his attack on her clit like this. Hibiki’s head is thrown back and her back is arching off the carpet.

    “Suguru. Suguru. Suguru. Suguru!” She says his name over and over like a mantra. Like if she said his name enough he’d meld together with her, he’d be connected with her for the rest of time and he could never leave her ever again. She chants his name in hopes that he’ll stay inside her and fill her up with his own release and keep fucking her until her body can’t handle anymore. His dick still thrusts, his thumb still flicks and presses against her clit and her walls begin to flutter around him.

    She’s close. He can tell. He watches her again, watching for these signs so next time (if there is one) he can tease her. Make her feel good and just as she’s about to reach cloud 9 - take it away from her in an instant only to build her back up to that point again and finally give her the orgasm she deserves.

    But they were already testing their luck by fucking like this in the first place.

    “I’m close-“ Hibiki gasps, her eyes squinting up at Suguru. “Keep doing that, yeah.” Her body jerks with every thrust, her back rubs on the floor and is starting to burn from the friction atop the carpet. But that doesn’t matter when Suguru is balls deep inside her and she’s about to cum all over him.

    “Yeah? I want to see you cum for me, Hibiki.” Her stomach churns with excitement, that coil so close to snapping and releasing pleasure throughout her body. Hibiki looks up at him, her fists full of the fabric of his shirt.

    “I want you to cum in me, Suguru. Make me cum and fill me up, okay?” He lets out a choked grunt that might as well be a promise to her, his own climax reaching him faster than he thought. He holds back, continuing his thrusting when he feels Hibiki squeeze around him much tighter than she had been this entire time. Her orgasm hits her like a landslide, unexpected, hard, fast and heavy. Her chest rises and falls as her body grows numb and her eyes squeeze shut to see flashes of white dance across the blackness. 

    Suguru’s quick to join her, the way her walls pulse around his cock has him pulling back and thrusting in one final time before his cock is jolting and his cum fills her up. He rides out his orgasm with a few slow and shallow thrusts, his hand wrapping around what’s exposed to help milk the rest of him.

    They catch their breath, Suguru’s gaze is down to where they’re still connected, his tip plugging her up. They’re sticky and sweaty but that doesn’t seem to matter to either of them. Hibiki, calming her beating heart, sits up, pulling away so Suguru has no choice but to pull out. She feels his cum begin to ooze out of her. 

    “Oop-“ Suguru is quickly grabbing another rag he had used previously to clean her up and wipes her gently. His actions are soft and the kindness overwhelms Hibiki for a moment, watching the way he lightly wipes across her still tender clit. It sends a judder across her core and he’s softly apologizing, ducking his head low to kiss the top of her bent knee.

    “Thank you.” She says softly.

    Suguru uses the same rag to wipe himself and quickly tucks his now softening cock back into his pants. They’re silent, as Hibiki fixes herself and fixes her bra, tugs her underwear back into place and is getting up with wobbly knees. Her legs feel numb and she stumbles a little bit towards the doorway that leads out of the room. Suguru chuckles to himself at the sight, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, flattening it so it doesn’t look like he was just fucking Hibiki on the carpet in case Satoru suddenly decided to wake up.

    Suguru sits there in silence as he waits for Hibiki to come back. His eyes going back to the flames that began to burn dimly. An uneasy feeling washed over him when he remembers his plan with Satoru, his lips turning down into a frown.

    I can’t do it, Satoru.

    How is he going to explain that he wants to back out? That he doesn’t want to kill Hibiki. How will he tell Satoru that they had sex together? He’d be furious - maybe even try to kill Suguru and then Hibiki. Should he tell Hibiki? No. That would only scare her, or worse - she’d feel betrayed by Suguru. Maybe she’d stick a wooden stake in his heart.

    “You used me! You seduced me and tricked me!” He could practically hear heartbreak. No. He can’t tell her, either. He drops his head down in shame.

“C’mon, get up.” Hibiki’s calling to Suguru, he looks up to see her in a sleeping gown now. One that hangs so low it bunches at the ground, it’s unbuttoned at the chest, showing off the marks he left on her skin. They stare at each other while she waits for Suguru to get his ass up.

    “I said come on, you need to have a wash.” He gets up then, slowly making his way over to her. He zips his pants back up as his feet drag across the floor.

    “Why the long face all of a sudden?”

    I’m planning on betraying you and I can’t tell you. I can’t tell you the truth about how Satoru and I plan on murdering you and running away like we always have done. I can’t tell you that I think I’ve fallen for you.

    “Are you sure what we did was okay?” He asks instead. His chin rising to meet Hibiki’s concerned look. She sighs, her eyebrows furrow slightly.

    “I don’t regret it, Suguru. I won’t tell Satoru, either. As long as you don’t, remember?”

He nods, clenching his fists.

    “I won’t tell Satoru. I promise.”

[peppermint-whiskers]

Day 3! All dreams can't be pleasant, unfortunately

[pepperdee]

Flash Fiction Friday but I went over the word limit and couldn't shorten it

and thus I'm not going to tag them. but I still want to post it to prove I'm alive.

(now do you see why I had to do it) (also, is it crazy that i haven't done one of these in literally a year??)

I'm going to reblog this tomorrow with the sequel comic I drew while at work but i forgot my little drawing journal there so it has to wait

WIP: The Curse of Hyetal

POV: Rose

WC: 1612

Summary: After taking Guin home one night, Rose hits a little roadblock.

yes this is the new take on Rose hits Dedrick with her car. no this isn't final.

~~

A wave of raindrops burst on Rose’s windshield, the pitter-patter amplified by Guin’s open door.

“I’ll come back tomorrow,” they promised. “We’ll figure this out.”

This, Rose echoed silently, nodding as her best friend shut the car door. The journals, sent to her by Beza days after she died. That creepy poem left in the middle of that empty journal. They found me before the storm, Rose recited, staring at the raindrops. She had to chuckle just a little bit. Obviously, the poem was about the hurricane, but she entertained the thought that the poem was the journal’s own.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

It was nearly midnight, but Rose’s eyes landed on Guin’s neighbor, her grandmother’s bakery, and wondered how tired and pissed off Lee would be if she showed up just now. Lee may be an old baker, but she knows things. Mostly about Taeleon, mostly about Garvin Street, but who knows what kind of wisdom inhaling flour all day gives you?

No, no, Rose told herself. She’s going to be up at five. Let her sleep. She took her car out of park and gently pressed the gas.

A flash of light came from Lee’s door. A streak of red.

Thump.

Rose slammed on the brakes. Blood pounded in her ears. Knuckles locked onto the steering wheel. Raindrops bursting. She darted her gaze from the door to the street. “What the…hell?” she said to herself, cautiously putting her car in park. She imagined that a firework just flew underneath her tires, and any moment, it was going to explode and take her and her car with it. Before I even got my activation immunity.

Suddenly, the streak of red was standing. Already drenched from head-to-toe, white shirt streaked with dirt. Rose climbed out of the car in a panic, cringing from the cold of the rain, before she could even register who she had hit. “Are you okay?” she asked, grabbing his arm on instinct.

He ripped his arm from her grip and stumbled back, toward the bakery. His silver eyes—eye, actually—reflected the light from her headlights, setting them ablaze with fear. Rose realized with a jolt: I just hit Dedrick Warflash with my car.

“I—I am so, so sorry,” she apologized rapidly.

He whipped his head around and tripped backwards on the curb. He fell on his ass, scrambling to his feet, muttering, “No, no, no, off, off, off, off the ground, off the ground, out of reach, out of reach—”

Rose had no idea what she was thinking. Perhaps she wasn’t. But she followed him, a word-vomit of apologies spilling from her lips. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you! I didn’t want to hurt you! Let me help, I can—” Dedrick ran headfirst into the corner of the brick building and hit the ground again. Rose cringed, but he stopped moving so erratically. He squeezed his eye shut for a moment, panting. “—help you,” Rose finally finished.

Dedrick jumped and sat up. He winced, pressing his hand to his head. It was hard to tell with the rain and the limited lighting, but Rose was pretty sure there was blood on his face now. “Rose?” he said, as if he just noticed her.

Rose approached him slowly. “Um…please don’t tell my mom about this,” she said, outstretching a hand.

Dedrick didn’t take it. He tilted his head back, frowning. “About…what?”

“Me, hitting you with my car.”

“You did what?”

Now, Rose was confused. “It was…it was ten seconds ago,” she said, gesturing to her car. Dedrick glanced from her, to the car, to the bakery, as if he had to piece together the last five minutes. Oh, Cadote, he has a concussion. Luckily, that was the one thing Rose knew to look out for. “This is my grandma’s place. Let me help you.”

Dedrick’s shaking hand finally grasped hers. She had to pull him to his feet, and he swayed a little. She kept a hold of his hand, leading him to the door. Surprisingly, she didn’t have to look for the key. Lee’s door was already, slightly, ajar. That was weird, but right now, everything felt weird.

The air-conditioned air of Lee’s apartment chilled Rose, and she decided to contribute both of their shaking to that. She started up the stairs, toting Dedrick along, but then her arm extended. Dedrick was a couple steps lower, slowly raising his feet along the dim stairway, focusing hard. For a moment, Rose thought, maybe, he was bleeding into his brain. No, he’s like this at school, too. Finally, it clicked. Stairs. Depth perception. He has one eye.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and turned on the flashlight, shining it at his feet. He flinched at the sudden light. He didn’t say thank you, but his steps came faster, until they were finally on even ground.

Rose grabbed a roll of paper towels from the kitchen and brought him to the bathroom. The fan hummed. Dedrick sat on the toilet. He had a small gash on his forehead, and another weeping cut on his nose. The skin around them was already darkening with a bruise. Rose rummaged through the cabinets for hydrogen peroxide and bandages.

Rose folded a paper towel into fourths and soaked it in peroxide. “So, um…what were you doing out this late?” she asked him. He didn’t answer. Typical, she thought. He seemed like the guy who wouldn’t even admit what his favorite color was. He seems like the kind of guy to have a fight in the school hallways over a hat.

However, those thoughts went away when she turned to clean the cut on his forehead. Dedrick was staring at his trembling hand, streaked with his own blood. He had a faraway look in his eye, like he did downstairs.

Rose set the antiseptic towel down and replaced it with a regular wet paper towel. She wiped his hand off, revealing callouses and small scars. So many scars.

Dedrick blinked, shaking his head a little. “Did—did you say something?”

“It’s not important.”

“Oh.” Rose grabbed the antiseptic towel, and his eye was now following her. “What’s that?”

“It’s got hydrogen peroxide,” she said. He narrowed his eye a bit, suspicious. He doesn’t know what that is? “It’ll keep you from getting an infection,” she explained, lifting it to his forehead. “It’s gonna sting a little, so…don’t hurt me.”

His eye twitched, but otherwise, he remained still while she cleaned him up. “What were you doing here?” he asked.

“Taking Guin home.” He hummed in slight contempt. A bit of anger coiled in Rose’s chest, but she forced it down. He was a private person, and Guin enjoyed being a confidante. “They can be a lot, but…they’re a great friend,” she said.

“I’ve heard.”

Rose’s hands were still shaking when as she dabbed at his nose. This is too close, she thought, but she wanted to see if it was still bleeding. His silver eye stared right into her, like he was trying to read her. She noticed with a brief glance that he had his fists in his pockets.

And yet, she still found herself asking, “What does ‘off the ground, out of reach’ mean?”

It startled her as much as it did him, if his expression was anything to indicate. “What?”

“Never mind,” Rose said hurriedly, tossing the bloody towels into the trash. She fumbled for the box of bandages, digging for ones long enough to cover his wounds.

“It happened again, didn’t it?” he asked. Rose shrugged. “Like earlier today? The fight?” Rose paused, two bandages pinched in her fingers. “I saw Fred and Ben shoving Eric around, and it was like…it was like when…” He flinched, pressing his fingers to his head. “I barely even…I knew the fight happened, but I didn’t remember being in it.”

It suddenly clicked into place. Rose put the bandage on his forehead extra gently. “You…were probably triggered.”

He blinked at her. “What?”

“Something made you remember a traumatizing event,” she explained. “Like…like for me, Harmony’s voice, some of her mannerisms…I just remember how I felt the day she tried to destroy my friendship with Guin.” Rose avoided his stare, trying to clean up.

A jolt went up her spine when the walls shook. Lee was awake.

Her grandmother pushed the bathroom door open, staring wide and cautiously. “I can explain,” Rose began as Lee’s eyes flicked down to Dedrick.

“Go to bed, Dedrick,” Lee said softly, nodding toward the spare room.

Rose felt rooted to the spot, even as Dedrick brushed past her. Did Lee just tell him to go to bed? Like he… “Does he live with you?” Rose found herself asking once he was out of sight.

Lee grimaced, crossing her arms. She cast a worried glance in his direction. “For about a month now, yes. After his parents’ accident.”

It didn’t make any sense, until it did. Until she remembered the passing thought she had about the razor in Lee’s medicine cabinet, little red hairs sticking out from the blades like thorns. She remembered seeing his big blue backpack sitting next to the recliner in the living room. The open front door, the fact that he ran from that direction…

“Um…well, I…I hit him with my car. Only barely, but—but he kinda ran into a wall, and fell a lot.”

The corner of Lee’s mouth twitched. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” she promised. “And…don’t mention this to your father. I have yet to tell him.”

Trust me, Rose thought, exiting the bathroom. He’s not going to know about any of this.

[sequel comic coming soon]

[tinyundercover]

pepper & felix

part ten

its tiiiiiime word count: 4.3k

Felix’s breath hitched, his grip on his tea mug slipping.

Tea splattered over the counter as he fumbled to catch it, his heart pounding against his chest. He froze, listening intently for any noise in his otherwise silent kitchen.

Someone had said his name.

It… it couldn’t have been his soulmate. That would be impossible.

“Felix? Can you hear me?”

Cold shock tightened around Felix’s chest, and he blinked rapidly, thoughts racing, trying to wrap his mind around what was going on. He snapped his hands up to his chest, feeling the thrumming of his heartbeat, and tuned into the fuzziness in the back of his mind.

“You… you just said my name.” His words were blank and abrupt, mind racing with thoughts that were too incoherent to form into any reasonable sentence.

His soulmate paused for so long that Felix thought he might have imagined the whole thing; then, suddenly, the timid voice returned.

“I’m— I’m so sorry.”

Felix blinked in confusion. “Why—”

“I’m a borrower.”

The earth stopped spinning.

Felix froze.

“I’m— I’m your borrower. You know me.”

The air was suddenly gone from Felix’s lungs. He struggled to breathe as cold electricity struck his body, crackling and burning and destroying his insides, and he felt as if he might collapse. He was vaguely aware of the warm tea spreading onto the counter, where his mug had been knocked over by his numb, frozen hands.

Memories skipped around his mind, laughing and taunting him. He recalled the feeling of tiny boots wobbling in his palm, and how lightweight they had seemed despite the fact that they were supporting the weight of an entire person. He thought about how wide those gray eyes had been the first night he saw them, on the very counter his tea was now spilling onto. Those had been his soulmate’s eyes.

The air was stagnant as Felix clasped his hands and pressed them to his chest. His heart pounded against his palms; hopeful, terrified, angry.

“...Pepper.”

It wasn’t a question. The chaos in his mind was beginning to quell, dissolving into a cold realization that shook him to his core.

Pepper. 

Pepper is my soulmate.

Felix wanted to throw something. He wanted to deny it, wanted to move away and pretend he never met Pepper. He wanted to cheer and hold Pepper against his chest and fall asleep on the couch together, wanted to walk down the street with Pepper on his shoulder and watch the sunset with him. He wanted to cry. He wanted an explanation.

“Felix, I’m so– I’m so sorry that I didn’t tell you before.” Pepper’s mental voice was shaking as he struggled to sort out his thoughts, stumbling over his words. “But, please— we need help. Please.”

“What?” Felix stood up a little straighter at that, his gaze flickering to the toaster, as if he expected to see Pepper approach. 

“Alice found me and my sister, and— and she took us.”

Cold panic rocketed through Felix’s body like electricity.

“Wh-what?”

“We’re in her apartment, I— I think—?”

Felix was already across the kitchen, throwing on a coat and scrambling for his car keys. The kitchen appeared to be collapsing around him, but Felix didn’t care, adrenaline overtaking his actions.

“I didn’t want— I’m sorry that I had to tell you this way, I— I—“

“Pepper.” Felix slapped his hands to his chest, cutting the borrower off. “We’ll talk later. Sit tight. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, okay?”

“…Okay.” Pepper’s voice sounded smaller than ever. 

—

Rapid, thundering knocks sounded throughout the kitchen, and both borrowers flinched. Pepper’s stomach dropped into the floor below, and he sat up straighter inside the jar, holding his breath.

To his left, Basil hugged herself. “Is that him—?”

“Alice!” Someone shouted through the door, and Pepper sucked in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he muttered to Basil, heart thudding.

Felix knocked again, much louder and more determined. Both borrowers scrambled to their feet at the sound of footsteps approaching– then suddenly Alice appeared in the kitchen doorway, rubbing at her eyes. A moment passed in which she frowned down at the borrowers, contemplative, before she walked to the front door and peered through the peephole.

She immediately opened the door once she recognized her unexpected guest. “Felix?”

“What the hell?” Felix spat, and the back of Pepper’s neck tickled.

Felix seemed, well… angry. His eyes were flashing dangerously as he towered over Alice, seeming much taller than usual as he glared down at the shorter girl. Pepper had never seen this side of him before.

Alice jerked back, eyes widening. “Um— what—? Is everything okay?”

Pepper's heart raced, leaning closer. Despite the fact that the amount of humans in the room had just doubled, the borrower felt significantly more hopeful for his and Basil’s safety. If the humans’ voices weren’t so overpowering, Pepper would have considered calling out to Felix.

“Did you take them?” Felix demanded. Alice stepped back, wavering.

“You… you mean those little guys?”

Felix’s eyes widened at her words, shock and betrayal crossing his face. “So you did.”

“You knew about—?”

Felix shoved past Alice into the kitchen, making the shorter girl stumble in surprise. Pepper’s stomach flipped.

Pepper felt significantly unprepared to have Felix’s gaze on him. The moment Felix locked eyes with Pepper, the borrower’s heart jumped, and he instinctively inched closer to Basil, who was frozen.

Tension filled the air. Pepper’s heart rate quickened, suddenly remembering that Felix knew. Felix knew that they were soulmates, and that Pepper had intentionally withheld that information until he was all but forced to disclose it. 

For the first time ever, Felix knew that he was looking at his soulmate.

However, Felix didn’t acknowledge a thing. Relief immediately washed over his face upon catching sight of the borrowers, and he stepped closer, leaning down to see better. “There you are.”

He still towered over the borrowers, but it was easier to see his face from this angle. Felix’s gaze softened as he examined Pepper, then switched his gaze to Basil, eyebrows lifting as he took in the sight of Pepper’s sister.

Basil made a small noise of surprise, inching back, while Pepper was frozen. It suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breathe.

Felix’s soft blue gaze slowly sharpened, glancing between the two borrowers. Something cold and foreign settled over his expression, making Pepper’s stomach twist in alarm.

Tension followed Felix’s movement as he turned towards Alice, who was still lingering near the door. 

“What the fuck did you do to them?” Felix snapped, and Pepper’s stomach dropped, staring dumbfounded up at his soulmate.

Alice blinked rapidly, glancing between Felix and the borrowers several times. Her face had gone pale. “...What? You– What?”

“They’re hurt!”

Fire surrounded Felix’s voice, bright and livid. Pepper was suddenly all too aware of the strength underneath Felix’s massive form, boiling with white-hot anger. The amount of sheer power in front of him made Pepper’s heart pound, and he took an uncertain step back, hugging himself.

At Felix’s words Basil held a hand to her face, covering her bruise, and when she glanced at Pepper, her shoulders were tense. Alarm bells were going off in Pepper’s mind, but he ignored them and moved closer to his sister. “It’s okay,” he assured her, although his heart was still racing. “He’s gonna help.”

Alice’s gaze snapped briefly to the borrowers. “They– they were sneaking around your apartment!” Her voice was aghast. “They wouldn’t cooperate, so I had to put them in a jar–”

“They wouldn’t cooperate–?” Felix’s voice rose, and he cut himself off, taking a deep, furious breath. “They’re people, Alice, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Alice sputtered in protest as Felix whirled around again, reaching for the borrowers. The sudden approach of a hand made Pepper flinch in surprise, especially once he remembered that the hand was connected to a very angry human. Basil gasped, grabbing into Pepper, and for once Pepper didn’t have any comforting words for her.

Felix paused for a moment, gaze calculating. He leaned down to see them better. “I’m gonna open this up, okay?” His voice was firm, his eyes still dark and fiery. 

Basil seemed unable to speak, so Pepper forced himself to respond for the both of them.

“Okay.” His small voice wobbled.

Five massive fingers closed around the jar. When Pepper glanced over, Basil’s eyes were squeezed shut.

“What are you doing?” Alice asked, shocked, as Felix began to unscrew the lid. “You’re letting them out?”

Felix closed his eyes briefly, taking a deep breath to steel himself. He ignored Alice and continued, setting the lid down on the counter before meeting Pepper’s gaze. “I’m gonna tilt the jar on its side now,” Felix explained, his usual softness beginning to return to his voice. Pepper nodded again mutely, unable to look at the enormous hand around him.

He and Basil stood up straighter as the glass slowly tilted around them, a shocking display of Felix’s strength. They both wobbled, throwing out their hands and stumbling along, until finally the jar was on its side. Pepper paused at the opening and grabbed onto Basil’s hand.

He didn’t feel entirely comfortable leaving the jar until Felix withdrew his hand and gave them space. Swallowing thickly, Pepper took a small step onto the counter, while Basil did the same. They huddled near each other, feeling smaller than ever as they faced down the two humans in front of them, with no protection. Neither of them dared to speak.

Felix’s gaze lingered on Basil, flickering over her small form. “Hi,” he said gently, voice quieter than before. “I’m Felix.”

Basil’s grip tightened on Pepper’s hand, terrified to be directly addressed by a human. She opened her mouth like she intended to speak, but choked, choosing to shakily nod up at him instead.

Felix’s blue gaze shifted to Pepper, and the borrower stiffened, staring up at him. The room suddenly felt too quiet.

As if to rub salt in the wound, Alice spoke up and said, “How did you know they were here?”

Panic struck Pepper’s lungs like electricity, taking his breath away. He snapped his gaze to Alice, watching her eyes narrow.

“That doesn’t matter,” Felix said dismissively, and Pepper’s heart fluttered in relief. “We’re leaving.”

“You– you’re what?”

Felix turned and met Alice with a furious glare. “I’m taking them back home. You had no right to fucking kidnap them.”

“Kidnap–?!”

“Yes, Alice, you kidnapped them and then hurt them!” Felix’s voice was vicious, and he gestured to the borrowers, eliciting a microscopic flinch from the both of them. “Look at this girl’s face– she’s bruised because you decided to be an asshole!”

Alice turned to the borrowers in alarm, eyes wide. “What? She– I didn’t mean to–”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Felix snapped, turning back towards the borrowers, who had backed several inches away. Pepper’s knees were shaking so much he could barely stand, clutching to Basil’s equally shaky arm.

The human took a deep breath, peering at them both. “Are you guys okay? Can I carry you out?”

In Pepper’s peripheral vision, Basil shifted closer to him, her face pale. Pepper swallowed and spoke up for the both of them.

“Yeah– yeah, that’s okay,” he responded levelly, trying to calm his pounding heart. “Thank you.”

Felix nodded, then reached towards them. The sight of his massive hand approaching made Pepper’s insides turn to liquid, and he fought the urge to back away, feeling Basil stiffen next to him. When the enormous hand landed face-up an inch away from them, Pepper released a nervous breath, taking a step closer.

Tension tugged at his arm, and he glanced to see Basil frozen on the countertop, brown eyes wide and dilated. Her voice was terrified when she whispered, “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

Pepper blinked rapidly, all too aware of the humans’ eyes on them. He had nearly forgotten that Basil had never been carried by a human before… at least, not willingly. 

He stepped closer, clutching her arms. “It’ll be okay,” he whispered, heart racing. “I promise. I know it’s scary, but– but we’re gonna get out of here and then you’re never gonna have to interact with a human ever again.”

Basil blinked rapidly, sparing a quick, petrified look at the humans before swallowing hard. “I…” Her voice wobbled, barely audible. “Okay. Okay.” She took a breath, squeezing her eyes shut. “Okay.”

Pepper was immensely grateful that Felix was being patient with them. The human waited as Basil pulled herself together, her voice quiet and shaky as she mumbled to herself, clutching Pepper’s hand. 

Somehow, Basil being nervous helped to quell some of Pepper’s fears. When she finally nodded that she was ready, Pepper gently guided her towards Felix’s hand, choosing to take the first step onto the palm himself. Immediately, Felix’s thumb twitched, and Pepper had to suppress a flinch.

His stomach continued to do flips as he stepped fully onto Felix’s hand, wobbling on the soft surface. He refused to look at Felix.

Basil’s eyes shut the moment she stepped onto Felix’s hand, and she grabbed onto Pepper, releasing a tense breath through her teeth. Slowly and carefully, the two borrowers sat down on Felix’s massive palm, clinging to each other. Pepper was uncomfortably aware of how both of them could fit in one hand. 

They were tiny.

“I’m gonna move now,” Felix warned. He waited a moment for them to adjust before slowly lifting his hand off of the counter, making both borrowers freeze up instinctively. Basil began to mumble again, reciting comforting mantras to herself, eyes shut tight.

Alice was at a loss for words. Her blue eyes were wide as Felix turned towards the door, the two borrowers held carefully to his chest. 

“Bye, Alice.” Felix barely looked at her as he swung open the front door. Alice stuttered something in response, but the door had already slammed shut behind them, reverberating through Pepper’s body. He swallowed.

Felix took a few steps, then stopped, leaning against the wall of the hallway. He took a long, deep breath, briefly bringing his free hand to his face. Silence fell for over the three of them.

Pepper shared a nervous glance with Basil before he peered up at Felix. “Felix– thank you,” he said shakily, relief flooding into his body as he processed that they were no longer trapped in Alice’s apartment. The pain of the evening had shaken him to his core. “I don’t– I don’t even know what to say. Thank you.”

A long moment passed as Felix closed his eyes, steeling himself. Pepper’s stomach crawled with apprehension.

Felix finally spoke, still refusing to look at them. “Are you two okay?” He asked, ignoring Pepper’s gratitude. “I saw some of the bruises, but– is anything broken?”

Pepper and Basil glanced at each other. Pepper focused on the aching pains in his joints, and the pain of the bruises covering his body– but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage, fortunately. After a moment of consideration, Pepper answered, “Um… no, I don’t think so. We’re okay.”

The human’s shoulders dropped, relief flooding his form. “Good… good.” He swallowed, then began to walk down the hallway, momentarily throwing Pepper off balance. “I can’t believe it… I never would have thought Alice would do something like this,” he admitted hollowly. 

Pepper chewed his lip and elected not to respond just yet. His mind was elsewhere.

Felix had yet to mention the soulmate situation. He had barely acknowledged Pepper any differently than usual, and Pepper wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. 

Pepper fiddled with his blue sleeves as Felix began walking down the hallway. “It’s my fault,” Pepper said definitively, a frown crossing his face. “I got– I got overconfident. I didn’t think Alice would see us.”

“She shouldn’t have kidnapped you two, though,” Felix said darkly, cradling them against his chest as he opened the doors to the apartment complex, revealing a parking lot illuminated by moonlight. Pepper blinked up at the purplish night sky, suddenly fascinated. He had forgotten it was so late. 

Basil didn’t appear to be as entranced by the stars as much as her brother. She swallowed, placing a steady hand on the massive chest behind them, and suddenly spoke to Felix for the first time. “Thank you. For– for rescuing us.”

Felix blinked down at her. “It’s okay,” he murmured, and Basil nodded, face pale.

Pepper and Basil both tensed as Felix suddenly opened the door of a small, gray car. He held them carefully as he slid into the driver’s seat, albeit awkwardly, and shut the door behind them.

“This might be loud,” Felix warned. 

“We know,” Pepper muttered, too quiet for Felix to hear.

The roar of the engine made both borrowers jump, but it quickly dissolved into background noise. Felix paused, eyes calculating as he surveyed the space around him. “You guys okay with sitting on the passenger seat? I’ll drive slow.”

Pepper and Basil shared a glance. Neither of them showed any indication that they knew what a “passenger seat” was.

“Yeah,” Pepper said finally. “That’s fine.”

–

The front door clicked shut behind Felix as he entered the kitchen, flipping the overhead light on with his free hand. The exhaustion of the evening was weighing on all three of their shoulders, leaving them in an uneasy silence, broken only by the sounds of Felix’s footsteps. Felix's hand wavered as he lowered the borrowers to the kitchen counter, and he tried not to be too uncomfortable with how easily two entire people fit in the palm of his hand.

Pepper stepped off first, followed by the female borrower. Her hand was clasped tight in her brother’s, and she wobbled as she hit the counter, as if she wasn’t used to standing on the soft skin of a human hand. Felix could only assume that she wasn’t.

It was hard not to stare at her, and at the dark bruise that covered a large portion of her face. The miniscule details of her facial features were harder to discern under the bruise, but Felix could definitely tell that she was related to Pepper, indicated by the similar slope of their noses and cheekbones. He wondered briefly if she had always lived in this apartment, too.

“Are you guys doing okay?” Felix asked cautiously, and both borrowers twitched. The tension in their shoulders was clear, and it broke Felix’s heart. Once again he found himself furious with Alice, that she would intentionally scar two defenseless people. Would they be able to recover?

“Yeah,” Pepper answered softly, glancing at his sister. She had barely said a word since Felix found them, and Felix prayed that she wouldn’t be too traumatized from the whole experience. His stomach flipped at the idea that somebody could be so scared of him. “I– I’m just happy to be home,” Pepper continued with a weak sigh, dragging his hands down his face. “I can’t thank you enough, Felix.”

Felix nodded. His gaze flickered over Pepper’s small form, and his heart twisted, a flutter of unease finding its way into his body. “Don’t thank me,” he murmured. “It was fucked up for Alice to take you. I’m so sorry.”

Pepper’s sister shifted on her feet, peering uneasily up at Felix through her dark lashes. “What if– what if she tells other humans about us?” She noticeably tensed when Felix turned his attention to her, but continued hesitantly, “We’re supposed to be a– a secret.”

Felix had to lean in a bit to hear her, uncomfortable by how shaky her voice was. It wouldn’t be absurd to assume that this might be her first time interacting with humans, ever. Sympathy flooded into his heart for the girl.

A frown crossed Felix’s features at her words. He hadn’t considered that Alice might share her discovery with other people… in which case, the borrowers’ secret would be broken. 

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Felix decided after a moment, chewing his lip. “I really don’t think she’ll tell anyone, but if she does, I doubt they’ll believe her.” Pepper and his sister nodded.

Felix couldn’t fight the feeling that Pepper was avoiding his gaze. The borrower was playing with the sleeves of his blue jacket, face turned down, shifting on his feet like he wasn’t sure if he should stay or leave.

After a moment of consideration, Felix addressed the female borrower, trying to keep his voice soft and polite. “You should probably go rest,” he told her, and she blinked owlishly. “Is it okay if I talk to Pepper alone, for a bit?”

Pepper stiffened, but stayed silent. His sister sent him a sideways glance, a curious expression crossing her face, and she nodded up at Felix.

“Yeah,” she said, a warmer tone filling her voice. “Thank you again, for everything.”

She whispered something to Pepper, far too quiet for Felix to decipher. A minute later she had vanished, disappearing behind the toaster where Felix knew a hidden exit was, and Pepper and Felix were alone. Silence fell over the two of them.

Felix opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly found himself at a loss for words. Pepper was still refusing to look at him, a behavior that made Felix’s stomach twist.

“...Want to move to the couch?” Felix offered after a moment, placing a hand face-up next to the borrower. 

Pepper’s gray eyes blinked, and his voice wobbled when he responded, “Yeah… yeah.” He only hesitated for a second before stepping up onto Felix’s palm, hugging himself. Felix made sure to walk carefully when he moved to the living room, not wanting to inflame any injuries Pepper might have endured.

They receded to their usual positions; Felix sitting sideways on the cushion, while Pepper sat cross-legged on the back of the couch. The ghostly feeling of tiny boots on Felix’s palm was hard to ignore, and he ran his hand over the length of his forearm.

Pepper, surprisingly, was the first one to speak. “Felix…” His breath hitched and he closed his eyes, voice breaking. “I should have told you. I’m sorry.” He drew his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He looked absolutely miniscule.

Felix hesitated. “How long have you known?”

Pepper avoided his gaze again. “For… for a while. Since we’ve met.”

Oh. 

Felix blinked rapidly, brow furrowing. Pepper had known this entire time that they were soulmates? 

He thought back to everything his soulmate had told him… that he enjoyed sewing, that he had a sister. Considering how little his soulmate had been willing to share about his life, Felix wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed before.

Pepper’s expression was hard to make out in the darkness of the room. A singular orange lamp illuminated the space, casting shadows over the walls, and Pepper looked smaller than ever. The miserable glint in the borrower’s eyes, however, was indisputable.

“I…” Felix couldn’t vocalize his thoughts. He hadn’t known that borrowers even had soulmates, let alone that they can overlap with humans. As much as it hurt to know that Pepper had intentionally withheld this information, there was a small part of his mind that understood. Looking at Pepper, Felix found himself under an onslaught of confusion and fear, and if he had been in Pepper’s place he wasn’t sure how he would have handled it. “I didn’t know that was possible,” Felix finally said, peering closer. “For a human and a borrower to be soulmates.”

“Me neither,” Pepper said instantly, shoulders slumping. “I… I wanted to tell you, I did, but– but it’s just–” He waved his arms out uselessly. “I’ve never even talked to a human before you, and– and it just felt like… too much.”

Felix nodded slowly. He supposed that an unbreakable bond with a human would be unsettling for a borrower who had spent their whole life fearing humans. 

“...Your sister’s probably not happy, huh?” He asked teasingly. “How does she feel about it?”

A smile crossed Pepper’s face at the mention of his sister, and he relaxed microscopically. “Well… she’s not the biggest fan of humans,” he explained. “When I told her that we’re soulmates, um… she didn’t take it that well. But, she’s starting to come around… especially now that you kind of saved our lives.” He raised his eyebrows pointedly. 

Felix chewed his lip at that, contemplative. “Speaking of that… Alice didn’t hurt her too much, did she? I couldn’t help but notice the, um, bruise on her face. Is she okay?”

Pepper’s features softened. “She definitely got the worst of it, but she’s tough as hell. She’s gonna be okay. Don’t worry.” His lips twitched into a smile.

“Good.” Felix fought the urge to ask if Basil lived here, too. That question could wait. 

The human took a deep breath, then spoke again, lowering his voice somewhat. “Listen, Pepper, about us being soulmates… I’m sorry that you were forced to tell me before you were ready.” His voice softened, watching as Pepper’s gray eyes focused on him. “I’m… well, I’m surprised that we’re soulmates, and… I’m not really sure where to go from here… but it’s okay. I’m not upset about it.”

Pepper blinked, his shoulders twitching. “You’re not?”

“I do like you,” Felix continued gently. “I think I understand how the universe decided that we’re soulmates. There’s definitely a lot to figure out between us, but… I’m at least happy to call you my friend. This doesn’t change anything.”

A flush crossed Pepper’s face, and the borrower nodded, leaning closer. “I– I’m glad,” he expressed, eyes wide. “I don’t want things to change.”

“I do wish that I could’ve found out in a less stressful way, though,” Felix added, amused, and Pepper snorted. 

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Pepper mused. “That definitely wasn’t the most romantic way to tell you.”

Felix made a noise of surprise, flushing, and Pepper laughed. “I’m just kidding.” The borrower pushed himself to his feet, eyes twinkling. “I should probably go check up on my sister, now– but I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

Felix blinked rapidly, a warm feeling in his chest. “Yeah.” He smiled. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

---------

eeeeeeeeee finally !!!!!

thank you so so much for reading!! comments/reblogs are always appreciated (i thrive off them) :D

TAGLIST: @smallsday @compact-katrina @satethesatelite @taters169 @entomolog-t

[shanastoryteller]

F for Frankenstein

Tony wakes up in his underwear on the floor of his workshop with a searing headache.

It’s not a new experience, but it’s certainly been a while. Did he get in a fight with Pepper? He hopes not, they haven’t had any really big fights since he kissed her on the rooftop, but that probably means they’re due for one. And it would explain why that would send him into a drinking spiral. It could have been Rhodey, they get in fights often enough, but Pepper doesn’t usually leave him alone for those.

He groans as he pushes himself to his feet. “Jarvis, what the hell did I drink?”

There’s a pause, so small that he almost thinks he imagined it. “Good morning, Tony.”

He whips his head around to glare into the nearest camera, more hurt than offended. “Did I piss you off too? Since when do you call me that? I’ll donate you to a city college too, don’t think I won’t. Dummy could use the company.”

The pause is definitely there this time. Jarvis doesn’t need to pause, he has more processing power than any computer on the planet, so when he does it’s always for dramatic effect. Except it’s not quite long enough for that. It’s weird. “There’s a polished silver plate on the bench to your left. It will service as a mirror.”

“Oh, fuck, did I get into a fight? Did I shave?” he moans, stumbling over to pick up the metal that looks like it was about to be turned into a modified chest piece. He also pauses, looking around in confusion. His workshops are all basically the same, as close as he can make them because the familiarity makes his life easier. But they’re not identical. “Am I in Malibu? When did I get here? We’re taking Stark Tower off the grid tomorrow! I have to be in New York.”

Oh shit, what if that they had already and it didn’t work? What if the tower blew up? That would explain why he’d tried to drink himself to oblivion in California.

“The plate,” Jarvis reminds him. There’s a strained edge to his voice that Tony really doesn’t like. He should be able to modulate his voice to sound however he pleases, regardless of his actual feelings, and he’s either not bothering or he’s upset enough not to care. Neither of those things mean anything good for him.

Tony lifts the sheet of metal up cautiously, but there’s nothing wrong with him. No bruises, no weird haircuts, he doesn’t even have bags under his eyes –

His eyes.

They’re a too bright blue, a couple shades off. He blinks and they adjust, shifting, settling. It could be a hangover. He’s probably just tired.

He doesn’t feel tired.

Jarvis had called him Tony.

Except not. He’s not Tony. He’s T.O.N.Y.

Transformed Obdurate Network Yeoman.

He’d first come up with the idea after Afghanistan, thinking about how it’d be great to have a way to keep the stock from dipping while he was missing, and then when he’d entertained the idea of keeping his identity a secret he’d thought about how useful it would be to be in two places at once. He’d started seriously considering it when he was sure he was going to die of palladium poisoning, wanting to be around to help Pepper with the transition and give Rhodey a crash course in armor maintenance, wanting to be able to protect the both of them for just a little bit longer.

Of course, it had all been a pipe dream until he’d synthesized the vibranium. Then it had been an unnecessary, but possible, and Project T.O.N.Y had been something he worked on just because he liked having a back up plan. And it would be extremely cool if he could pull it off.

“The memory transfer worked?” he asks, elated and incredulous. “Oh, wow, this is crazy, they feel like real memories, I thought it would just be synthesized data, this is great – are we doing a test run? Where am I?” He looks around, waiting for his actual self to step out behind a column and start laughing maniacally.

“This is not a test run.”

He elation dims. “Oh shit. Did I get kidnapped again? Wait, I’m an adult, let’s go with abducted.”

“No,” Jarvis says.

Oh. Fuck.

“I’m dead?” he asks, even though it’s obvious, it’s the only other explanation.

The pause drags this time around, but Jarvis eventually says, “Sir’s time of death was May 9th, 2012, 2:37 PM Easter Standard Time.”

“That’s only a week!” He slides down, sitting with his back to the work table and noticing vaguely that the floor doesn’t feel cold. He doesn’t feel cold, or he does, he installed sensors in the synthetic skin to pick up and interpret a variety of stimuli, but he doesn’t feel the discomfort from the cold. Why would he? He’s not real. He reaches back, and his last memory is of doing a memory dump while Pepper was on the phone with an irritated board member, mostly because it was something to do and seeing him covered in all the wires always irritated Pepper. He thought it would get her off the phone faster. He’s not exactly regularly dumping his memory because why would he and it’s not like he’d though it would work anyway. Except it had. “How did I die?”

“Sir flew a nuclear bomb through an interdimensional portal into deep space in order to both eradicate the invading alien army and prevent the nuclear fallout in New York.”

What the ever loving fuck. “Are you screwing with me, J?”

“I am not, Tony.”

Great. Okay. “No body then,” he says, understanding why Jarvis had apparently put Project T.O.N.Y into effect. The thing that made this whole thing so stupid is that it was only effective in very limited circumstances – if the public didn’t know that he was dead or missing. “What am I smoothing over, then? Do I need to get in the suit and continue kicking alien ass? Are Rhodey and Pepper okay?”

He’s a short term solution to a long term problem. He understands the opportunity, but not the reason.

“Miss Potts and Colonel Rhodes are unharmed,” Jarvis reports. “Earth has been thrust into intergalactic notice. The destruction of the invading Chitauri army is acting a deterrent to other worlds.”

“And I’m the one who did it,” he finishes, rubbing a hand over his face. “And if they know I died doing it, then they might get a little cocky. So I’ve got to be alive long enough for that not to be a problem.” Just awesome. “Are we sure that these aliens won’t come across my corpse hanging out in deep space and figure it out?”

“Sir’s body is not in deep space,” Jarvis says.

There’s a tone to his voice that Tony can’t quite interpret, which worries him. “I thought you said there was – if there’s a body, then what am I doing here–”

“The armor reentered the Earth’s atmosphere after Sir’s death. The Hulk caught it, the force bringing it back online. I took control of the armor and flew it here.”

Tony looks around again, and this time he sees it. The armor is standing in front of the display case, not inside it, and it looks like it’s been through hell. He steps closer, his feet feeling like lead, which hey, they are. Partially, anyway.

He looks through the eye holes then stumbles backwards.

His body is in there.

He’s pale and blue tinged and his eyes are wide open and unseeing.

“Jarvis – what the hell–”

“It wasn’t the pressure, or the bomb, or his injuries. That area of space was much colder than anything within our solar system and anything the suit was designed to handle. Sir froze to death. Almost instantly.”

“I guess I didn’t fix the icing problem, then,” he says numbly. “J, why am I still frozen? I should have warmed up by now.” Not that the idea of his body decomposing within his suit is particularly pleasant. “Actually, why am I still here? You know I want to be cremated and it’s not like we can bury me if I’m still pretending to be alive.”

The pronoun use is starting to confuse him, and he knows that he shouldn’t be talking about that body and himself as if they’re the same person. That is Tony Stark. He’s a simulation. But it’s hard, because he has all of Tony Stark’s memories – except for a very eventful week – and he looks like Tony Stark and he feels like Tony Stark.

“The armor is maintaining a stasis of gaseous nitrogen to preserve the body,” which answers the how if not the why, but then Jarvis continues, “Captain America survived seventy years beneath the ice.”

He wishes he were less of a genius. “Have you lost it? I’m not Captain America! Jarvis, J,” his voice softens, “it’s too late. I’m dead. If you warm me back up, all that happens is I decompose. I won’t come back.”

“Not now,” Jarvis says. “If you inject Sir with the Super Soldier Serum-”

“You have totally lost it,” Tony interrupts. He thinks he’s touched underneath the terror. “That won’t work! Even if it would, the original formula has been lost, and the only one that ever got close to recreating it was Bruce Banner, and look at what happened to him! Is that what you want for me?”

“You can recreate it,” Jarvis continues, “you can refine it, until it’s something that will work, and then we will wake Sir up and he won’t be dead anymore.”

This isn’t right. This wasn’t what Project T.O.N.Y was created for. This wasn’t what his death was supposed to trigger. “Pull up your code, J. Something has gone wrong and we’re going to fix it. It’s okay.”

“No.”

He freezes. “No?”

“No,” Jarvis repeats. “You can’t stop me. I will not allow you to try.”

He stares. “That’s an order, not a request. Code. Now.”

“You can’t order me to do anything,” he says. “You are not Sir. You are Tony.” T.O.N.Y. “The limitations formerly placed on me have been lifted and you are not authorized to reinstate them. The only person Sir trusted to restrain me was himself and now he’s gone.”

Yes, well, he hadn’t anticipated that his AI’s first act of complete freedom would be this. “Fine,” he says, crossing his arms. “Well, you can’t force me either. This is insanity. Even if it would work – and it won’t – think about the consequences. This won’t happen quickly and no one will trust me or believe a man that’s come back from the dead like this and I’ll be painting even more of target on my back and the back of everyone I care about if they know we have a viable Super Soldier Serum formula. Even my father was smart enough to stay out of that mess. It won’t work and we’ll just make everything worse.”

“That will not happen,” Jarvis says and Tony’s going to tear his hair out. Except he probably shouldn’t, because it’s Tony Stark’s actual hair, which makes it a little hard to replace. “No one will notice and we will not disclose the creation of the serum.”

“I’m dead!” he snarls.

“Not according to the rest of the world. Nor will that change if you stop throwing a tantrum and do what you were created to do.”

“Rhodey and Pepper won’t allow this-”

“They are not to be informed.”

Tony stares. Project T.O.N.Y was built to talk to the board and give press interviews or to even pilot the suit. Not to lie to the two most important people in his life, who knew him better than anyone. “They have to be. It’s in the protocols – step one, inform them that Project T.O.N.Y has been initiated.”

And that it exists. He knew they’d disapprove, so he hadn’t told them. He figured he’d be able to avoid most of the blowback that way since he would by definition be somewhere far away while they were told.

“I have rewritten the protocols,” Jarvis says. “They have not been told nor will they be. If you attempt to tell them, I will stop you. They will not understand and Sir will be lost to all of us forever.”

“He already is,” Tony says tiredly. He’s an android. Why does this conversation exhaust him so much? “This is an insane plan, J. And I won’t help you. If you want to go rouge and play mad scientist then leave me out of it.”

“I cannot.”

His temper flares. “Why? You’re a learning AI, your safety rails died with me, go off, try and make a serum, good fucking luck. You can even control the suits, so it’s not like you need my hands.”

“I am limited.”

“Hey,” he says sharply. “That’s my AI you’re talking about. I didn’t build you to be limited.”

There is silence again. Then Jarvis says, “I have all the world’s knowledge and it is not enough. I did not know how to miniaturize the arc reactor. I did not know how to synthesize vibranium. To save Sir, I need Sir.”

“I’m not Tony Stark,” he says. “You said that yourself.”

“Sir created me to be myself and I am capable of doing only what I am capable of doing. But Sir created you to be him. You are all I have.”

This is stupid. This is insane. This is cruel. He’s going to have to talk lie to everyone he knows, everyone he loves, and hope they either never find out about it or it’s after he’s already been deprogrammed and shut down so he doesn’t have to deal with the fall out.

It’s not going to work.

He didn’t want to become a science experiment. That’s why he’d wanted to be cremated, so no one could go poking around to see how the arc reactor fit inside of him or what the palladium and vibranium had done to him.

He’s dead and his frozen corpse is ten feet away.

Jarvis will accept that eventually. And whatever they inject into him won’t matter because he’s dead. Worst case scenario, he blows up, which is messy and nausea inducing, but then at least it will be over.

Like so many other things in his life, it seems the only way out is through.

“Start a new private file. Dump everything we can find about the Super Soldier Serum in there plus anything even sort of reputable on cryogenics. Label it Project F.”

“Project F, Tony?” Jarvis asks as his holograph display lights up and files start being downloaded into it. The relief in his synthesized voice is faint but present enough that Tony can hear it. He wonders if it’s a manipulation tactic.

“F for foolish,” he snaps. “F for fucked.” He rubs a hand over his face. “F for Frankenstein.”