#slight mention of canon liquor

[lilywastaken]

⇝ midnight .

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader.

PART ONE OF MÉNAGE.

SUMMARY: Simon makes the mistake of spending the night before one of the longest missions of his career in the arms of a woman he met at a pub, unaware of the consequences it would have on his life moving forward.

WARNINGS: AFAB!Fem!Reader (no use of Y/N!) NSFW [ Oral (F receiving), Degradation, Praising, size difference/kink, dacryphilia, dumbification, slight bondage, frottage, unprotected P in V, overstimulation, various orgasms, creampie.], Angst, Pregnancy, mentions of abortion, kind of OOC Simon? He’s just soft when he’s not Ghost, Canon typical violence.

A/N: My first COD fic! It also happens to be the longest piece of writing I've ever done 😵! This is the first part of a series I've been planning on writing for a while, so I'll hopefully get the second part out soon! Please don't forget to reblog/comment if you enjoy the fic, it helps a lot!!! Thanks for all the support!! <3

WORD COUNT: 10.1k.

MASTERLIST.

Also on Ao3!

Going out wasn't one of Ghost's favourite things to do.

Even after getting back to his tiny flat in Manchester following a horribly long mission and shedding his mask, going back to the burly man his neighbours knew as Simon, some random guy who had moved in a few years ago and seldom stepped outside except for the random smoking session some of them would see him having on his balcony; he didn't enjoy going out.

So when he finally was able to relax onto his shitty leather sofa and catch up with some of the footy games he had missed while away, all he wanted more than anything was a good whiskey in his favourite (cleanest) glass.

And almost like a cartoon character staring at their empty wallet, Simon stared ahead at his liquor cabinet, jaw clenched as he spied at the remaining drops of alcohol that were left in the bottle, remembering the mental note he had made before leaving his flat the last time to get himself the alcohol he had chugged down during one of his depressive episodes.

So, in a fit of anger, he shoved on whatever clean clothes he could find in his duffle bag, skull balaclava pulled over his messy hair, and stomped down the stairs to the nearest Tesco…

…only to find it closed.

And fuck him if he was going to walk the extra hour to the nearest Morrison's just to get some shitty whiskey bottle to drown his sorrows in. At this point, he'd just go and sit in a corner of a pub, nursing what he would hope would be an acceptable liquor.

He was absolutely pissed by the time he made it into the homey bar, the universe having decided to make it it's personal mission to fuck him up today and making the worst storm possible start to rain upon Manchester.

Oh, and of course, the pub's tables were all full of teenagers (who definitely had fake IDs, no way they were all 18), and some old geezers who were shouting at the football game on TV (great, Manchester was loosing, another thing to worsen his night), leaving the only available seat one in the middle of the bar next to some woman chatting amicably to the waiter, who seemed a bit more interested in her cleavage than in what she had to say.

He slipped into the seat silently, his clear eyes death-staring into the bartender's, immediately scaring him shitless ("Yer about ta kill me with that look, Lt." Johnny had once joked about his murderous gaze, and to be fair, Simon was slightly hoping the scot would combust and die right there.), no doubt believing that he was with the woman and was about to punch his teeth in for staring longer than he should have.

As he scurried off into the back, you turned to him, taken aback at first as you made eye contact with the towering, wet, balaclava-clad man who was staring back at you, but you were brave enough to smile kindly at him, going back to running your finger over the rim of your drink, which Simon noticed was still and hardly drank out of, despite the lipstick smudges around the top. You'd been here a while, and by the way your leg was nervously jumping up and down as time passed by, he could only assume you'd been stood up.

Now, Simon wasn't dumb, far from it; and Simon was smart enough to recognize when someone was attractive, and he was pretty sure that the woman in front of him was drop-dead gorgeous despite the sad look that adorned your features. So, if he was correct, he couldn't even begin to fathom how someone could even start to think of standing up a woman like you, especially after inviting her to this shitty pub, where the food had definitely given him food poisoning before.

He hadn't realised how deep in thought he must have been while staring at your glass until a soft hand rested against his bicep, eyes instantly flashing back towards yours, instincts haywire from having been pulled out from his thoughts so suddenly.

"Sorry!" You immediately retracted your hand from his arm, smiling apologetically up at him before turning your gaze back to the golden liquid. "I asked if you were okay. I can't imagine walking around in a storm with just that on." You gestured towards his shirt, allowing Simon to look down and stare at the tight T-shirt he had chosen to wear, a few dirt stains decorating it in the worst way possible, having dressed for the occasion that was a 10pm trip to Tesco and not meeting up with a pretty woman at a pub.

"Wasn't planning on walking 'round." He grumbled out, his voice deeper than what you had expected, the thick accent and scratchy sound of it making shivers run down your spine and heat pool into your stomach, becoming horrified with yourself that you allowed such a minimal thing like a masked man's voice get you all hot and flustered like this.

"'Nd you? Doesn't seem like you're dressed for a night out at the Crown's." His eyes moved towards your dress, surprised with himself that he had actively been the one to continue the conversation; his thick hand reaching over to grab his drink from the bartender's hand (which he must have ordered during the haze he had been in before.) as he awaited your answer.

"Oh." He watched you smooth down your hair out from the corner of his eye, your hands shaky as they found comfort around the fancy glass of your whiskey. Or was it bourbon? Maybe rum? You seemed like the type of woman to appreciate a good glass of liquor. "Yeah, 'm waiting for someone."

He watched your eyes dart over to the clock hanging on the wall opposite you both, the little hand nearing the number 11.

"Could've taken you somewhere nicer." He commented, taking a jab at both the pub and your missing date, the small breathless chuckle that left your lips catching his attention.

"Yeah. Not like I expected a reservation at the Ritz, but somewhere that doesn't look like my grandad's favourite pub would be nice." You joked over the sound of some of the old men cheering in the background over some team scoring a goal, and while Simon would've normally turned around to make sure it had been Manchester, he was too focused on the mesmerising way your eyes looked in the dim light, your eyelashes fluttering innocently as you continued what had started as small talk, that evolved into friendly conversation and him buying you another drink, and that ended with him waiting for you outside the bathrooms, holding onto your tiny umbrella.

Simon wasn't one to frequent in hook-ups, but how enticing you had been when talking to him, the way your body looked in that dress and how you'd brushed your soft hand against his bicep (this time with another intent other than to snap him out of his stupor), had left him wanting, nay, craving more from you.

So when you looked out the window behind him before gesturing to the small umbrella hanging from your bag and asked if he wanted to take you home, he would have been demented to deny you.

His screen's brightness lit up his face as he scrolled over the scarce messages he had received across the almost 10 years he had had this crappy phone, about to delete Soap's number before you came out, a smile on your face and makeup freshly applied.

"Some girls helped me with my makeup in there." You commented happily, fingertips brushing over the blush that had been applied to the apples of your cheeks, which made you somehow look even more enticing than before. "I didn't have time to look in the mirror, but I hope it looks okay."

"Looks nice on you." He let out after processing your new look, his chest tightening as your smile somehow widened and your eyes brightened, having learned across the few hours you had spent together that Simon wasn't really one to show his emotions towards anyone, so a short compliment like that was a big step.

"You think?" You didn't wait for an answer, your hand finding his and starting to lead him out of the shadowy corner he had taken refuge in while your time in the bathroom, letting him push open the exit door so he could open up the umbrella, not caring about the raindrops falling onto him and darkening his clothes, the rain getting caught onto his eyelashes like morning dew on a spiders web, the beautiful orbs drawing you in like a butterfly happily flying into a spider's nest.

The umbrella was open and poised on top of you before you could even step out of the pub, Simon doing his best so you wouldn't be touched by the rain, aware of how uncomfortable some people got when it came to water running down your back or touching your face (especially when you looked so so pretty with your make-up.). Along with his massive frame walking next to you, you were pretty sure there was no way a single drop of water would touch your skin the whole way back home.

Which ended up being almost silent, you leading the way and commenting on random stores or things you passed, brightening up every time you got a chuckle out of him and melting whenever his hand would wrap around your waist as you passed some creepy man or a suspicious-looking group of teens, pulling you into his side so no one would even think of messing with you.

You were highly aware of how dangerous it was in hindsight to take some random man home (whose face you hadn't even seen yet!), but Simon made you feel safe, special, in some weird way… like as long as you were in his vicinity, nothing could happen to you, nothing could harm you. And you wanted to cling onto that feeling, onto the feeling of protection and warmth that Simon extruded.

So you didn't think twice about it, even as you slipped the key into the front door to your apartment complex and stood next to him the whole elevator ride up to your floor, his hand curled around yours with his thumb rubbing over your knuckles, the soft action enough to make heat pool into your tummy and your panties, getting worked up over casual affection from the breathtaking man.

"Y'sure about this, lovie?" His raspy voice made you fumble with your keys as he came up behind you, watching you struggle to unlock your flat as his breath hit your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will. Last chance."

Your breathing grew shaky as his own warmed your cheek, the way he worded it making it seem like the act you were both about to perform was something akin to letting a beast free, and even if it was, as long as Simon was the one to do it, you would have let him do anything.

"Yes." You managed to get out as your door finally opened, not even getting the time to take a step in before his hands were all over you, pushing you into the apartment and slamming the door closed behind him with his foot, his balaclava somehow being pulled up to his nose, high enough so you could gaze upon his soft pink lips and the blond stubble that adorned his chin and slightly crooked nose, aware that you would have spent hours tracing his features with your eyes, engraving them to memory, but he took away any thoughts away from you as he slotted his lips with yours.

You learned immediately that Simon's kisses were desperate, sloppy, needy. The way his hands gripped at your hips and his teeth nibbled onto your bottom lip, tongue running over yours as he trailed his palms down your thighs onto your feet, wrenching off your heels and ripping apart your tights, ignoring the angered whine that left your lips.

"Easier access, lovie." He murmured against your lips, finally pulling back with a sleazy grin on his lips, a string of spit connecting you both before breaking, allowing you a bit of time to catch your breath while he took in your living room, staring at the doors. "Bedroom?"

"Th- That one-" You hazardly pointed towards one of the doors behind you, squealing out loud as he grabbed you effortlessly and started to carry you towards your room, thighs pressed to his sides and ankles crossed behind his back, making sure to cling onto him so he wouldn't randomly drop you (Although by the way his muscles barely tensed when he had picked you up, and how easily he seemed to navigate around while carrying you made you think that there was no way he'd let you fall.)

Your back finally hit your familiar soft mattress, hands clenching onto your silk sheets as he watched you like a hawk, hands resting on the space of your thighs near your now-dripping cunt, thumbs rubbing into the soft pudge.

"Fuck… Just look t'you." He rumbled out, your cheeks growing warm as he continued to stare without moving, enjoying the way you started to squirm beneath his touch. "Calm, lovie, jus' taking my time wiv' you."

You mewled out at the deep tone his voice took, thighs threatening to close as one of his hands made his way towards your clothed cunt, which had been made accessible thanks to your now-ripped tights that had been left behind in the living room.

Simon forced your thighs back open with a grunt, glassy eyes darkening as he watched your own hands come up to cover your face out of embarrassment, letting himself soak in it for a moment before finally starting to act.

"Lean up f'me." You obeyed immediately, trembling under his touch as he slowly pulled your dress off, letting it pool onto the floor along with his shirt, which he had quickly gotten rid of as soon as you were in your lingerie. His eyes roamed the lace for a moment before letting out a dry chuckle, looking up at you to find you ogling at his scarred chest, almost drooling at the sight of his well built pecs and stomach. "Tryin' to get lucky tonight?" He spoke, fingers snapping your bra strap, thinking back to why you were originally at that pub in the first place.

"Shut up." You grumbled, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him up the bed so you could continue kissing him, having been left craving more ever since that breathtaking one in the foyer.

He didn't complain, quickly indulging you as he slotted his lips with yours once again, his kiss as sloppy as needy as before, openly moaning against them as your hands run under his balaclava to pull at the short strands of his coarse hair, his own hands wrapping your thighs around his waist so your clothed pussy could grind against the hard material of his trousers over his hardened cock, rejoicing in the way your moans and whines sounded as he drank them up.

"S'needy." He chastised softly as he pulled away, moving you both towards the top of the bed so you could rest your head on your pillows, catching your breath while he started slipping off his belt and trousers (the belt being placed on the bed, just in case), and letting you gaze upon the tent in his boxers, shivering at the monstrous sight of his cock, trying to imagine how in the living fuck would he fit inside you if he couldn't even fit properly in his boxers, pulling out a moan from your lipstick smudged lips at the simple thought of being fucked by such a tool.

"Like it?" He chuckled, slowly starting to lean down with his hands on your thighs, pulling one of them over his shoulder so he was face to face with your covered cunt, his breath warm as it hit your clit, making you whine. "Gunna let me have a taste?"

"Y-Yes, god, yes, Simon, please-" You breathed out all at once, desperate for his touch after the slow teasing, watching what was visible of his face scrunch up in mock laughter as he revelled in your whines.

"As you wish, lovie."

He didn't even bother pushing your panties aside before taking a lick of your cunt from bottom to top, pressing soft kisses to your clit to hear your desperate whines and feel your thighs shake beneath his touch, continuing to slowly make out with your clothed pussy, purposefully driving you insane with his limited touches.

"Off, off, pl-please, Si, please -" You whined, pushing his head away in an attempt to start to pull your panties down, crying out in frustration as he didn't budge, a growl leaving his lips and sending vibrations up your cunt.

"Don't touch. I'm taking my fucking time, pretty. Or would you rather me stick my cock into you without any prep?" You moaned out loudly at the thought, back threatening to arch as he slowly grasped at your panties, a humourless chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Yeah, I bet your slutty pussy'd love that, wouldn't it, lovie?" He purred before finally sliding down your pants, taking a moment to stare at your cunt and let you squirm before slowly spreading your thighs again, immediately shoving his face into his prize and repeating his movements from before, but faster and rougher, letting you feel every inch of his tongue as it ran over your lips and slowly inched inside of your hole, your moans and silent screams only edging him further on until he took your engorged clit into his mouth and started sucking, placing a hand on your stomach and pushing your arching back down onto the mattress.

He was surprised, to say the least. Yes, he'd realised you were sensitive as soon as he had kissed you for the first time, but he hadn't expected you to almost burst into tears from being eaten out (He wasn't even /trying/ to make you cry, he wondered what would happen if he did.), so he wondered if all the men you'd been with before had gone down on you, but by the way you were reacting to such simple touches, he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"So fuckin' sweet, baby." He murmured into your pussy as he let go of your swollen clit, giving your hole some attention as the hand that was on your tummy ran down to circle your clit, overstimulating you in the best way possible. "Taste like fuckin' heaven."

"Si- Simon-" you whined his name out so so sweetly, music to the normally cold lieutenant's ears. "Gonn- Fuuuck! 'Na cum! Please, please, Si, need to-"

"S'okay, let go for me, lovie." He basically purred into you as he continued licking contently at your gushing hole, fingers tactically rubbing on your clit, before changing spots, taking your clit back into his mouth and letting his fingers slip in to you, preening at the sweet gasp that left your lips at the sudden intrusion, his coarse fingers moving in and out and immediately finding that one spot that made your back arch and toes curl, and just as he was taught in the military, he took advantage of the weak spot (in this case, your sweet spot.) and didn't stop brushing his fingers against it, the increasing sound of his name alerting him of your upcoming orgasm.

And once the coil within your stomach snapped and Simon finally let your back arch of the bed, your release gushing out of you and coating his hand and wrist, you let out the loudest moan of his name, the sound immediately going to his painfully hard cock, but he didn't stop, tongue not ceasing its assault on your clit and fingers continuing to rub against your g-spot until you finally came down from your high, brain mushy and eyes glassy as you stared up at the cream ceiling.

"Such a good girl." He purred out as he finally stopped, retracting his wet fingers and taking them into his mouth, swirling his tongue around and cleaning off all of the slick you had left from your orgasm, savouring it like he would with a lollipop. "Fuckin' taste amazing."

You whined in response, the embarrassment from having cummed so fast and having to watch him lick up all your release finally catching up to you, shaky hands moving to cover your sweaty face.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing them before they could cover your pretty features and holding them together in one hand.

"No, baby. Don't want you fuckin' hiding f'me." He snapped, slowly pulling them upwards so that they were pinned against the headboard, his other hand moving to gather the belt he had discarded not so long ago, quickly taking advantage of your cum-lax state to wrap it around your wrists, making sure it was tight enough to constrict you, but not tight enough to hurt, and letting you lie there while he started on getting rid of his boxers. "Wanna see that pretty face while you come undone on my cock. Isn't that what y'want too?"

You tried moving your head to nod, but it felt so so heavy that even the slightest movement felt like a chore, feeling grateful that Simon was a man able to move you around and dominate you without even breaking sweat, that all you needed to do was lie back and enjoy everything he gave you.

"Fuckin' hell. Not even fucked ya yet and you're 'lready gone?" He sneered, coming to hover over you so he could press wet kisses to your cheeks and neck, purposefully avoiding your lips. "Pretty girl gets her pussy played wiv and turns into a right proper slut, don' she?" He purred against your neck, his words making you shiver and squirm as your body instinctively tried to move away from the stimulus, only for him to pull you back towards him with grubby hands, a loud gasp leaving your lips as he pressed your crotches together, having expected the soft cotton of his boxers and not the hard, hot feeling of his cock flush against your dripping pussy.

"Oh- Oh my god, Simon, th-"

"Mm." He cut you off with a soft purr and a nip to your jugular, no doubt making sure that you'd wake up in purple marks the next morning as he did the same all over your neck. "'S me. All me, lovie. F'you."

You moaned at the implication, slowly starting to grind yourself against him as he made it his personal mission to cover your upper body in kisses, stopping at your clavicle and staring down at your bra, that was still to be taken off.

"Fuck, forgot all 'bout these." His hand came up to squeeze one of them softly, a small sound of pleasure leaving your lips at the added stimulation as you continued to rub your cunt against his hardened cock. "Pretty little things."

He started grinding his own hips against yours, watching with amazement at how quickly you reacted to his touch, your back arching enough for him to slip his hands behind and unclasping your bra suspiciously easy, pulling it off and throwing it behind him and landing god knows where, and leaving you finally completely bare beneath him.

"Look t'you." His warm hands immediately cupped your tits, thumb and pointer rubbing your nipples between them, pinching and pulling until they were hard, an amazed chuckle leaving his lips as he listened to your moans increase in sound, his grinding against you not ceasing either.

"Oh fuck- fuck fuck!" It was embarrassing, how quickly he had you whining and mewling beneath him, when you had found yourself struggling before to even feel something with men before him doing the same. It was just something about him, something about the way he sounded and touched, the precise movements against you, almost like he had been trained for your pleasure, to get you over the edge as many times as he could muster before even getting his dick wet.

Because the instant you felt his warm breath hit one of your perky breasts, you knew you were fucked, headed towards your second orgasm of the night. His warm mouth enveloped your hard nipple, pulling and tugging with his teeth and soothing the slight pain he left with his talented tongue, his grinding becoming quicker and rougher as he felt your thighs tremble around his waist, your eyes watering as you neared the release you oh so craved, gasping out loud as one of his hands came up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing over your flushed skin.

"You gunna cry, baby? S'okay, let it out. Let it out f'me." He growled as he let go of your now throbbing nipple, moving to give your other neglected breast the same attention, hand leaving your face to run down to your core and slowly run over your clit, a huge contrast to the rough movements of his cock against you and his warm mouth on your nipple, all the different stimulations and feelings enough to push you over the edge and let the tears that had been collecting in your waterline finally fall, gasping moans and screams leaving your lips as you soaked his cock, body trembling beneath his ministrations as he chuckled against your nipple, enjoying the way you were slowly falling apart and he hadn't even pushed into you yet.

He didn't stop for a few moments, waiting until the moment where you would inevitably start whining and pushing him off with weak arms to cease, leaning back up with a shit eating grin as he waited for you to come down from your high.

"Oi, look at me." He taps one of his fingers on your face, moving your gaze towards his, a small, patronising pout tugging at his lips as he watches the tears roll down your cheeks. "Poor thing. You all fucked out yet? D'you think y'could still take my cock? Or are you too dumb f'that right now?"

"Y-yes, yes, please, please, need it so bad, Si! So so bad!" You stuttered out between laboured breaths, hands struggling against their binding, itching to be let free and feel his cock in your hands, which you could see between you, almost as girthy as a coke can and with a few prominent veins leading up to his flushed red tip, that was leaking pre spend you would gladly pay money to clean up with your tongue. "O-oh fuck, Simon, please -"

"Sh, shh. Calm down, y'little crybaby." He chastised, leaning down to softly press kisses over the tears that had gathered on your flushed cheeks, chuckling at how desperate you looked under him. "I'll give you what you want. Gon' fuck you so well, yeah? You'll feel me f'weeks, lovie."

"Fuck, yes, please! Want your cock so badly, please!" You cried, legs immediately spreading for him as soon as his calloused hands landed on the pudge of your thighs, slightly digging his fingers into them as he took in the beautiful sight of your soaking wet pussy, having half the mind to shove his cock in you without a second thought. But no.

"Calm." He snapped, one of his hands dropping your thighs and slapping your face softly to get your attention. "Protection, baby. You got a condom?"

He frowned as you shook your head, gasping for breath as you pointed over to your nightstand, where he could faintly see the glint of a packet of tablets in the dark. "Pill. 'M on the pill, Si. Clean. I'm clean."

He couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips at the thought of being able to cum inside, and how eager you were acting to get him to finally stick his cock inside, whines and whimpers pulling him from his thoughts as he stared down at you.

"You going to let me cum inside then, lovie?" He teased, pulling your other thigh back up so the underside of both of them were resting flush against his bare chest, twitching cock resting on your overstimulated core. "Don' think I'm gonna be able to pull out."

"Don't want you to, fuck! Please, Simon, please!! Inside, want you to cum inside!"

A shiver racked through his body at your words, carefully letting one of your legs go and making sure it would stay there, wrapping around it to grab his cock, slowly sliding the head around your puffy lips to collect the slick, wanting the intrusion to be as painless as possible.

"Fuck… Alright, baby, alright. Breathe f'me." He whispered, letting the head of his cock press against your hole, telling himself to go slow and calm down, but by the way you were pulsing and clenching around the head, almost like you were pulling him in, made it hard to stay sane. "God, slutty lil' cunt's just swallowing me in, huh? Want this cock that bad?"

Your hands shook against their restraint as he started to push himself into your sopping hole, wanting nothing more than to grab onto something for stability, but you didn't want to risk him getting annoyed at you for trying to.

"S'okay, almost there." He mumbled, lying straight through his teeth because with one look down to where he was connected to it would prove that he wasn't even halfway in, and it was already proving difficult for your hole to accommodate to his massive size.

"S'big, Si, you're so biiig." You whined, spreading your legs slightly and pushing your body onto him to help, shivering as you could feel him start throbbing inside of you, no doubt needing his own climax after having spent so much time focusing on you.

You could feel your eyes start to flutter close, mouth dropping open as he finally bottomed out, his heavy balls flush against your ass and cock throbbing inside of you, taking a breather and letting you adjust to his size before he would start on his ruthless pace.

"Fuck, lovie, you droolin'?" He panted, a hand coming up to rest against your face and pull you out of your sex-drunk haze (Despite only getting his cock inside you now.), your eyes drowning in his crystal ones, hypnotised by his gaze as he used his thumb to rub away some of the drool that had dribbled down your chin. "Pretty girl finally gets some cock and turns into a drooling slut, huh?"

You let out a noise of complaint as your hands continued to struggle, the few coarse hairs that were peeking out from under his mask enough to make you want to bury your fingers in them, pull at his strands and dig your nails into his scalp as he rocked your world.

He seemed to to understand what you wanted, a chuckle leaving his swollen lips as he leaned over you, legs folding along with him and allowing him to reach a deeper point in your cunt you didn't know that existed, a loud moan escaping you as his calloused hands start undoing the belt, finally letting your wrists free and throwing the piece of leather away, his hands going back to holding onto one of your thighs and another gripping your waist.

"All yours, baby. All fuckin' yours."

He gave you a moment to react as he bottomed out, leaving you empty for a split moment before he slammed back in, cock head almost instantly hitting that sweet spot deep inside you, your hands immediately finding refuge on his shoulders, nails digging into the scarred skin as he repeated his ruthless thrusts, your body shaking beneath his as he pushed down onto your body, forcing you both into a mating press, your cunt tightening around his cock at the sight of his eyes rolling into the back of his head, tummy fluttering at the thought that he was enjoying this as much as you were.

"Fuck, so good, Simon! So fucking good!" Your hands trailed up to the nape of his neck and pulled at the few short hairs there, urging a growl out of him and causing him to slightly speed up, the head of his cock at this point abusing your g-spot, urging you to near your third orgasm. "Wan- Wanna cum, fuck, gonna cum, Simon!"

"Already, baby?" He spoke through bated breath, his stamina allowing him to keep a good and consistent pace, enough to please both of you and almost bring you to tears again. "That's okay, cum for me, lovie. Cum on my fucking cock, show me how much of a fucking whore you are f'me."

Your back arched, pressing your breasts to his sweaty chest, the extra stimulation from your nipples rubbing against his coarse skin finally pushing you over the edge, your cunt clamping down on his cock and making it near impossible for him to continue thrusting, but as the good soldier Simon was, he persisted, rutting into you with bared teeth and a clenched jaw, fucking you through your orgasm until your slick covered his balls and upper thighs.

"Good girl, good fucking girl." He rasped, hand moving from your waist up to your neck, giving an experimental squeeze and moaning as you clenched around him, a breathless chuckle leaving him. "Fuck, you're still clenchin' around me so nicely, love. Feel so fuckin' good, perfect lil' pussy all f'me..."

Simon was saying nonsense at this point, becoming near pussy drunk as his cock hammered into your puffy cunt, nearing his own peak after all the foreplay.

"Si- Simon-!" You keened, hands running under his mask to grasp at his hair properly, pulling at it to coax another guttural moan from him and leading him back down to engage in a messy kiss, teeth clanking together and spit being shared, feeling the desperation he was in as he continued to batter your pussy searching for his own orgasm. "Cum, please, please, cum inside!"

Simon's eyes rolled into the back of his head at your begging, eyelashes fluttering as his pace stuttered inside of you, cockhead pressing against the entrance to your cervix and finally going over the edge, his spend gushing into you and almost immediately filling you, his cock acting like a plug inside you.

"O-oh, fuuck…" He moaned out, voice going slightly high pitched as he relished in the euphoria of finishing inside of you, his nails leaving ten moon shaped indents on your hips, the pain nothing compared to the feeling of him finally fucking his spend into you, you'd have to worry about the inevitable bruises and marks in the morning before work. "Fuck, you're… fuck."

Simon lowered himself down, resting his sweaty balaclava-clad face on your shoulder as you both caught your breaths, his cock twitching inside of you as he rode the waves of his orgasm.

Your eyes were blown out, staring up at the ceiling as you were hit with a sudden wave of realisation, your brain finally catching up with your body and taking in everything that had just happened, especially the fact that you had allowed some masked man you'd met at a pub on a tinder date to ravage you like a starved animal.

"Oh my god." You said, voice wavering as you shivered beneath the mountain of a man, who's sweaty body was pressed flush to yours, his cock softening inside of you as you both started to sober up. "O-Oh my god, Simon."

He let out a moan against your skin, languidly thrusting one final time into you before slowly pulling out, peeling himself off of you and letting the cold air envelop your now-shivering body, the feeling of his warm cum dripping down your puffy cunt pulling out another broken whine from your lips.

"Look at that…" You tried moving away as Simon ran a finger down your spent hole, gathering his cum best he could before slowly shoving it back into you, clicking his tongue at your reaction before leaning down and pressing a final kiss to your clit, the loud cry that left you making him smile almost predatorily. "So, so pretty, baby."

Your eyelids fluttered closed as you felt the bed shift beneath Simon's moving weight, allowing you time to set your head on straight and think about the next words that were going to come out of your mouth (That weren't strangled moans of the blond's name and jumbled cries about how good he felt.) while he moved around, no doubt getting his discarded clothes so he could slip away into the night.

"...leavin'?" You finally mustered out, letting your head fall to a side so you could watch him pick up his boxers and slip them on, his balaclava fixed into place like it had been when you met him, leaving you to stare into his mysterious blue eyes, the only gateway into the man who had just finished ravishing you.

"..." He turned to look at you over his shoulder, eyes trailing over your shivering frame as he fought internally over your words.

Ghost knew that it would be dangerous to stay, to indulge in your touch and show himself to you in one of his most vulnerable states. He didn't know you outside of the few hours he had spent with you, and even with that, it wasn't enough for Ghost to let his guard down around you.

Simon wanted to stay, he wanted to climb back into bed and let you curl into his side, let his warm hands run up and down your warm skin like he had done while pleasuring you, listen to your snores and even breathing. And despite probably not being able to fall asleep himself, Simon knew that it would be one of the few tranquil nights of his life.

So despite Ghost's alarming protests ringing in his head, Simon slowly made his way into the empty spot of your bed next to you, the covers soft and cool against his heated skin, soothing the raging fire that seemed to boil inside of him at the mere sight of you, his large arms wrapping around you and pulling you towards his side of the bed.

As soon as your bare body made contact with his, you melted like ice cream on a hot day, curling into his side and allowing him to wrap his tattooed arm around you, calloused hands running up and down your sides, taking his sweet time memorising every curve and dip of your body as you rested your head onto his chest, ear pressed right above his rapidly beating heart.

Not one word was exchanged between you both the whole time you lied together, his fingers tracing every little nook and cranny of your skin he could find, stopping every once in a while to rub on a tense muscle or over a scar, the soft ministrations swiftly lulling you to sleep.

The hand that you had splayed on his chest was mimicking his movements, fingers running over the blond hair that adorned his chest, playing with the small cross that dangled from the small chain necklace around his neck. Every time his hand would come up to rub at your shoulders, you caught a peak at the many tattoos that sleeved his arm, and as much as you wanted to turn around and commit all of them to memory, every time you tried to move, he'd press you closer, as if he knew that if he did allow you to, you'd only put off sleeping for longer.

As your eyelids started drooping, you felt his other hand come up to rest over your smaller one, toughened fingers intertwining with your own softer ones, a tired smile forming at your lips before finally clocking out, his heartbeat a firm rhythm that pulled you further and further into the soft grasp of Hypnos.

As expected, Simon didn't sleep a wink.

He had tried to close his eyes and enjoy the warmth you radiated, trying his best to let your soft snores and murmurs lull him to sleep, but it was impossible.

Despite not having slept for more than two days, he was unable to fall asleep, on edge after the catastrophe that was his last mission.

That was one of the reasons he had decided to step out of his comfort zone and allow himself a night of indulgence with you, a night of letting himself go and take out all his anger on you, but he had been impuissant to hurt you or even come close to actually wound you, instead taking it as slow as he knew how to and muttering soft praises and sweet nicknames into your ear along with the degradation that he'd mixed in.

And even after tiring himself out, he still couldn't let himself fully relax.

But as he turned his head to look down at your sleeping face, he thought that maybe this wasn't so bad. He felt… at ease, for the first time in a while. No strident alarms to wake him up at the crack of dawn, no ringing in his ears as a grenade went off near him, no desperately patching up a wound and drenching his hands in blood, no screams and pleas of mercy reverberating around his head as he disposed of the enemy.

None of that. It was just you. With your body curled into his side and your soft skin beneath a killer's hands.

Which is why he wished he could stay there forever. Lock the door and have you in his arms for the rest of his life, without the paranoia and the horrors that followed him everywhere he went, only focus on you and how mushy you made him feel with only a few hours of knowing him.

Which is why he wished he could have just fallen asleep and ignored the vibrations that came from beneath his discarded clothes, that he didn't leave your side and pick up the phone, that he hadn't followed orders like he always did and hadn't left you alone.

He carefully tucked you in, making his side of the bed before hesitantly brushing his scarred knuckles against your flushed cheeks, an alternative to the kiss he oh-so wanted to press down onto you until you woke up, until you asked him to stay, until he caved in and left the 141 to fend for themselves.

But he didn't.

He closed the door to your bedroom, slipped his phone and keys back into his pockets and headed towards the front door, ready to leave you behind and go back to being Ghost.

But as his hand reached for the doorknob, his eyes caught onto a stack of fluorescent yellow sticky notes on the kitchen counter, and in a stroke of not so genius, he grabbed the nearest pen and scribbled down his number onto the piece of paper, signing it with a simple "S .", hoping that you'd deduce it was from him, and not from some random person whose name started with the letter S that had broken into your apartment just to give you their number.

He stuck it a bit too aggressively to the almost bare fridge, making sure it was in a visible spot that you wouldn't be able to miss before finally stepping out of your flat, adjusting his mask in the elevator's mirror and going back to the cold hearted killer his fellow soldiers knew as Ghost.

He'd expected it to be a short mission.

One that they'd be able to finish within two weeks at best so he could go back to his cramped flat in Manchester and hopefully get back to you.

He'd spent almost every day of the first week of his departure wondering if you'd found the note, if when he'd retrieve his phone back from his locker back at base, he'd find a few messages from an unknown number he hoped was yours, asking him how he was, asking him to meet up again, wondering if he was okay…

That's what mostly kept him going for the first few days.

Until it all went haywire.

The mission escalated quickly into a mess of soldiers and betrayals, flying from place to place and taking more lives with his bare hands than he had ever before.

Blood soaked his hands in a way it never had, the toll of deaths on his name increasing with every passing day, week, month, year.

When the mission that had started off as something simple, something Ghost couldn't even remember, ended after a year, the 141 couldn't be more relieved. And exhausted.

They'd fought for many months straight, barely finding places to get a wink of sleep, and sometimes even running out of food while they camped out in one of the dingy safe houses of whatever city they were currently stranded in.

But it was finally over. Their target had been disposed of and any enemy that remained had either been eliminated or had scurried off.

As the chopper brought them back to base, none of them said a word, even Johnny refrained from making any jokes, knowing that it would only piss off both of his superiors and maybe get a tired chuckle out of Gaz.

Price uttered a "Good job." to all of them before patting them on the shoulder and going to his office, no doubt ready to go back home and have the sleep of his life.

The two sergeants withheld from talking too much to their lieutenant, murmuring a goodbye to him before going their own way, Ghost not even bothering to answer, too mentally and physically exhausted to even open his mouth to speak.

The first thing he did once he reached his locker was throw the goddamn mask off, letting the plastic skull clatter against the tiles as he rummaged through his belongings, wanting nothing more than to get into some clean clothes and go back home, where he would drink away the horrors that would no doubt follow him and probably pass out watching reruns of football games he had missed.

The clothes he had worn the day before the mission were tighter, accentuating the change in his physique after putting his muscles to work for a whole year, the seams of his trousers digging uncomfortably into his legs, his pockets full of random junk he had left in there.

He fished for whatever was currently pressing against his backside, pulling out his small phone from the pocket, frowning down at the gadget, which was no doubt out of battery after being left for so long.

Simon was pleasantly surprised when the screen brightened, showing his black lock screen and the time, the battery hanging onto dear life with a 1%. He moved to grab his charger, his eyes still trained on the incoming notifications that would soon flood his home screen, not really expecting much aside from the emails entailing rubbish deals or the occasional spam from a porn site he'd signed up to as a teen and hadn't been able to delete.

Instead, he was bombarded with over a thousand notifications at once, all from the same unknown number, the messages going too quickly for his tired eyes, focusing on the random words he was able to take from the rapidly passing texts.

‍

Answer.

Ignoring.

Asshole.

Appointment.

Doctor.

Pub.

Baby.

Pregnancy.

‍‍

His mind blocked itself off as he processed the last word, trying to make sense of all the confusing messages that had been sent to his phone.

Had it been by accident? Was he the recipient of some prank? Had he unknowingly given out his number to someo-

You.

Simon's throat went dry as the realisation dawned on him. Without sparing another second, he unlocked his phone, clicking onto the notifications and scrolling down as fast he could while still intaking information, afraid that his phone would die out at any point in time and render him utterly confused and terrified.

His body went on autopilot the more he read, brain fuzzy as if he had just drank a whole bottle of hard-hitting liquor, his eyes fixed on the bright screen of his phone in terror.

He was in shock. His mind wasn't in the right state to process any of this, he wasn't able to properly begin to fathom the meaning behind your words, as simple as they were.

‍

— I'm pregnant.

— I'm fucking pregnant, Simon.

— I don't know how it happened, the chances of the pill failing are so fucking low, and of course it happened to us.

‍

— Please pick up.

— I know you're getting the messages.

‍

— The doctor told me it's too dangerous to perform the abortion.

— I have to keep it or risk my life.

‍

— I need you to answer, Simon. Please, I just need to know that you're there.

— I'm scared.

‍

— You're such an asshole, you know that, right?! Fucking gave me your number only to disappear? Left me pregnant with your bloody kid!? And you can't even bother to pick up the goddamn phone.

‍

— Fuck you.

‍

— …

— It's a boy. Thought you'd want to know.

‍

— My due date is in a month. Please… call me, if you're even reading these. I don't want to be alone.

‍

The phone flashed the low power message in hopes that Simon would take mercy on it and finally plug it in, but Simon paid it no mind, clear eyes staring down at the picture you'd attached during one of the first months of your pregnancy.

The blurry picture of an ecography staring back at him disproved any doubts that might have formed in his mind, your full name displayed at the bottom along with the date it was taken, solidifying the fact even more.

It was real. This was real. You'd been carrying his son for 9 months, sending him frantic and terrified messages all throughout the three trimesters in hopes that he'd answer, all the while he had forgotten all about you in the midst of his mission, while you probably didn't spend a single day of that year not thinking about him.

His phone went dark once it finally had enough, leaving him standing there with a dry throat and shaky hands.

It was rare for Ghost to feel fear, but not for Simon. His throat would contract with every breath, his nose would sting as tears threatened to form on his waterline, his hands would get shaky until he balled them up and threw a punch into whatever item was closest.

This time wasn't any different. He punched his locker door, denting the metal effortlessly as he tried to wash away the fear and guilt creeping up to him with the pain that bloomed at his knuckles, that ran up his arms like electric shocks until they went numb.

He was an asshole.

Simon knew that it wasn't his fault that the mission had been extended for way too long, but he kept thinking back to the moment he'd placed his number on your fridge, wondering what would have happened if he'd done the smart thing and added that he'd be unavailable for a while, but that he'd get back to you. Maybe you would have been less scared while going through the pregnancy, comforted by the thought that he hadn't been ignoring you, but he knew that even then, you would have gone through it alone and terrified.

"I'm an asshole."

He rested his head against the dented locker, the cool metal soothing the headache that had quickly formed after all the conflicting feelings that had rushed through him in the matter of a minute.

All he had wanted was to go back home and rest, but fuck him if he was going to be able to even close his eyes after learning he was a father.

He packed everything up as quickly as he could, not bothering to say goodbye or join the other three for a drink at a pub, heading to his car so he could get the fuck out of London and back to Manchester, where he prayed you still lived, in that tiny flat near that dingy pub where he had first laid eyes on you in.

As his gloved hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white, a terrifying thought struck him.

Who's to say you had even kept the baby?

Who's to say you couldn't bear to look at the baby, that you'd given him away to a way more functional family?

The thought inflicted fear in him, a type of fear he didn't know if he should be feeling or not, confused with all the unpleasant emotions swirling inside of him.

"God, fuck!" He slammed his hands onto the steering wheel, the roar he had let out no doubt scaring any civilian that had been walking near his car at the time, but he couldn't care less.

All that was important now was getting back to you, to what he hoped was still the mother of his son.

Happy giggles and gurgles filled the living room, your tiny baby outstretching his arms out as you cycled his legs slowly, making silly faces down at him to keep him distracted.

Your doctor had recommended small exercises like these, some that would help develop his future motor skills, but you'd found that Tommy was a curious baby, one that couldn't stay still for longer than five minutes before he was whining and huffing in a futile attempt to get your attention and hopefully release him from his tiny prison; and so, in order to keep him focused, you resorted to having leisured conversations with him, your small son hanging onto your every word with wide blue eyes and a gaping mouth, as if he could understand your frustrations with the man who had blocked your car off and the girl from the bakery that had gotten your order wrong, or making silly faces at him to hear him giggle with glee.

You placed his small feet down and went back to your resting face, his eyes instantly going from your face to the closest toy, small chubby arm reaching out to grab it, your fingers running over his tummy and getting out a few giggles out of him before he finally grasped the toy, pressing it into his side.

As he distracted himself, you let yourself sit down properly, back hitting the edge of the sofa as you watched your son roll around on the blanket you'd laid down, letting yourself look up at the TV for a moment to have a small break, the news reporter standing in front of Big Ben ranting about some resolved political dispute or something.

Your eyes trailed back down to your son, who was wriggling around with a new toy in his grasp, cooing and drooling as he stared up at the ceiling, blue eyes fixed on one of the many cracks in the ceiling.

You winced at the not so friendly reminder of the state your flat was in. Going through a pregnancy on your own without any help and barely any money to take care of yourself left your home in a condition you were not proud of. You'd tried your best to clean and make the nursery as cosy as possible, but at the end of your third trimester you could barely lean down to pick up the hoover. Once you had been allowed back home, you'd cleaned up, but you couldn't really do much to fix the poor way your building had been constructed.

A sigh left your lips, leaning down to rest your head against your knees with closed eyes, giving yourself a few moments of sacred rest, something you seldom got anymore those days.

Sometimes, you thought as you wrapped your arms around your legs, you wished you weren't alone. As much hate you had harboured for your son's father across the year, you couldn't help the longing that still filled you every time you thought about him, wondering if you'd ever see him again, if he'd ever hold his son in his arms.

Frustrated tears filled the corners of your eyes, wiping them away with your sleeves before turning your attention back to your son, who was now squirming in his spot making grabby hands at you.

"I've got you, duck, don't worry." You cooed, picking him up and pressing a few kisses to his chubby cheeks, cradling him to your chest as you got up from the floor, careful to not drop him or bump him into anything.

As you took him back to his room, routinely changing his diaper and clothes, you thought back to the small breakdown you almost had had a few minutes ago, letting out an exhausted sigh. There was no use in imagining a future where Simon fit in, you'd given him enough time to answer, to show any signs of life at all. You were alone.

You were on the verge of tears as you placed Tommy in his tiny crib, handing him the small duck plushie your grandma had knitted a few months back when she had come to visit, watching him cling onto it in his sleep for a few moments, his soft breaths and coos tranquillising the waves of anxiety threatening to drown you.

"Good night, Tom." You whispered, pressing a kiss to his chubby cheek before flicking on the night light, carefully closing the door and resting your body against it, a shaky sigh leaving your chapped lips.

God, you were pathetic. Hung up over a man who you'd only known for a few hours, who'd left you with a baby (unknowingly or not, didn't matter), who still haunted your dreams every time you tried to get some rest. Why couldn't he have just picked up the phone? Why had he just given you his fucking number if he wasn't bothering on answering? Why had he gotten into your head so easily, with his sweet nicknames and soft kisses? Why couldn't you just fucking mov-

Your whole body jumped as the shrill doorbell rang, the sound reverberating around the flat and no doubt reaching Tommy's sensitive ears.

"God, yeah, I hear it!" You cried out as the sound didn't stop, starting to get worried that it would wake your baby up and then you'd have to deal with putting him to sleep all over again. "Fuck! I know, I'm coming!"

You looked through the peephole, eyebrows furrowing as you gazed upon a man's tacky army jacket instead of the normal face, so either this guy was incredibly fucking tall or he was standing on a stool.

Knowing that the area you lived in wasn't the safest, you unlocked the door but kept the chain latch on, a gap big enough so you could see the guy outside but not big enough for him to attack you.

"What?" You snapped, a bit harsher than how you'd normally answer the door, but this guy didn't really deserve any respect after how he'd basically abused your doorbell to the point of the sound still ringing in your ears. "What do you-"

Your gaze had been fixed onto his chest, scanning the army jacket you had spied through the peephole, cringing internally at the Union Jack plastered on his left bicep, hoping to God that he wasn't some type of Tory propagandist going door to door. But as your eyes trailed up to meet his, your mouth went dry.

Crystal blue eyes framed by pretty blonde eyelashes (identical to the blue eyes your son had been staring up at you with for the past three months), contrasting with the black face paint that was smeared around his eyes, the rest of his face obscured by that damn skull balaclava that haunted you.

It was him. It was fucking him.

"Simon." You said his name breathlessly, not missing the way his body stiffened at your shaky tone.

"Yeah. It's me."

[joelsgreys]

the truth l a safe haven drabble

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: Tommy and Joel have a talk about you at the Tipsy Bison; Joel finally tells his brother the truth about what really happened with the Fireflies in Salt Lake City.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. spoiler ish for the beginning scene in tlou part II; slight deviation from the canon game plot to fit the series. reader is not in this scene, she is only mentioned. minor descriptions of canon violence, concerned Joel, kind of angsty.

word count: 2.2k

The next evening, Joel finds himself at The Tipsy Bison after dinnertime—he’d needed a drink, and a fucking stiff one at that.

Ellie had holed herself up in her bedroom for most of the day, and she’d refused to come out and eat. Joel had left a plate for her outside of her bedroom door, but he knew just how goddamn stubborn she could be when she was feeling upset. He knew that when he went back home, her food would still be sitting outside of her door, cold and untouched. 

Sarah often used to do the same thing to him whenever she’d had a bad day at school or was just in one of those moods. 

Between Ellie’s behavior and what had happened at the party the night before, Joel’s mind is all over the fucking place—he’s worried about Ellie, but now he’s worried about you too. 

He hadn’t seen you all day, not even in passing. 

For a while, Joel had contemplated going into the stables to seek you out after patrol duty, but he’d decided against it, knowing good and well that Tommy would probably be keeping tabs on him over the next few days to make sure he was steering clear of you.

“Here you go, Miller.” Seth places a glass in front of him, the bourbon on the rocks he’d ordered. “I made it a double. That look on your face tells me you could use it.”

“Thanks,” Joel mumbles, accepting it without protest. He notices Esther behind the counter, on the opposite end of the bar. For a minute, he’d worried that she would be the one to serve him, but thankfully, Seth had beat her to it. Not wanting the woman to get any ideas about coming over to talk to him, Joel grabs his drink and leaves the counter, making his way over towards a small, round wooden table nestled over in the furthest corner of the bar, away from other patrons. He sits down, his broad back facing the entire room—his way of telling people that he’s not seeking any kind of company tonight.

But one person hadn’t gotten the hint.

“Mind if I join you?” Tommy’s voice comes from behind him.

Joel shrugs his shoulders, but says nothing.

He walks around, dropping into the chair across from him. He offers a joking smile as he drawls, “Ain’t you at least gonna offer to go and get your sweet little baby brother a drink?” 

Joel glowers at him, completely unamused. What he wanted to do more than anything was give his sweet little baby brother a good knock upside the fucking head.

Tommy’s jeering smile fades and he sighs. “Look, Joel. I wanted to talk to you ‘bout last night—”

Joel cuts him off, his voice curt. “Relax. I ain’t even seen her since yesterday, alright?” He doesn’t even bother masking his bitterness. “Got your message ‘bout her real loud and fuckin’ clear, Tommy.”

“I’m just tryin’ to look out for you,” he states with a small shake of his head. “I don’t want you makin’ some stupid mistake that could get you in trouble, or worse, thrown out of this place.” He lets out another sigh and leans back into his chair. “But I’m sorry for bein’ such a dick ‘bout it, okay?”

Mulling over the apology, Joel gripps his glass tightly in his hand, and after a minute, he finally brings his dark eyes to meet those of his younger brother. He lifts his glass up to his lips, taking a long sip of liquor before asking, “What all do you know ‘bout her and Luke?”

Tommy glares at him. “Really? I just fuckin’ apologized to you, asshole. Don’t make me fuckin’ take it back.”

“Just tell me what you know.”

“Joel why the hell do you—”

“Tommy, just fuckin’ tell me,” he all but demands through gritted teeth. “What exactly do you know ‘bout her and Luke?”

Tommy’s expression suddenly shifts from annoyed to confused. Against his better judgment, he starts to explain everything to Joel. “We brought Luke and his two nieces to Jackson a few years ago, and she and her father came along not all too long after that. Her and her old man were both in pretty bad shape when they first got here, but she was worse off. We honestly didn’t think she was gonna make it—but Luke, he took care of her, nursed her back to good health.” He reaches up, raking one of his hands through his jet black curls as he shrugs his shoulders. “Guess sparks flew or somethin’ because within a couple months, those two were a serious item—a few weeks later, they were exchangin’ vows and rings at the altar of the commune’s old church with Maria as their witness.”

“They ever have any problems?”

He hesitates. “Well, when her dad got sick, it put a strain on their marriage for a while. She just had a lot of shit to deal with, y’know? Her dad wanted her to take his place as the community’s vet and it was a lot of pressure—havin’ to learn all she had to learn in so little time. All the while, the poor man’s fuckin’ dyin’ right before her very eyes. Can’t imagine what that kinda stress would do to a relationship.” He shrugs once again, crossing his arms over his chest. “It was real rough, but after her father died two summers ago, things changed for the better in a weird way. Luke stepped up. He was there for her and he supported her through it all, y’know? Her father’s death brought them closer together.”

Joel chooses his next words as carefully as possible, although there’s really no subtle way to ask his next question. “He ever mistreat her?”

Tommy’s eyes widen and he whips his head around, as if making sure that nobody was around to overhear the nature of the conversation. “Joel, why in the fuck are you askin’ me this?” he hisses through clenched teeth. Suddenly, a worried look flashes over his gaze and he asks, “Where is this even comin’ from? She say somethin’ to you last night?”

“No, she didn’t,” he admits. “But there’s just somethin’ ‘bout Luke that doesn’t sit right with me, Tommy. Somethin’ ‘bout those two, it just ain’t right. I can feel it.”

“What do you mean?”

Joel hesitates once more. “Somethin’ ‘bout the way she just changed around him. It was like someone flipped a fuckin’ light switch. One minute she’s smilin’ and she’s enjoyin’ herself—but as soon as Luke came around, her smile was gone, Tommy. She didn’t look all too happy to see him when he showed up. She looked real uncomfortable.”

His brother peers at him. He doesn’t seem angry or upset. If anything, Joel could detect something a little closer to empathy in his expression. “Did you ever stop and think for a second that maybe, just maybe, it’s your jealousy talkin’ and makin’ you see what you wanna see?”

Joel stares at him, unsure of how to respond.

Of course he was jealous of Luke, because he had you and Joel didn’t—but he wasn’t stupid, and he sure as hell wasn’t fucking blind.

He knows what he saw.

“If there was a problem with Luke, she would tell me,” Tommy assures him with confidence. “She’s close to me and she’s even closer to Maria. I know for a damn fact that if he wasn’t treatin’ her right, she would come to us right away. She would tell us if somethin’ bad was goin’ on at home. But as far as I know, those two are fine. They’re happy.” He pauses briefly, searching for words of comfort for his brother. “I’m real sorry, Joel. I can tell you really like her and I don’t blame you. She’s a beautiful woman. She’s also as sweet as can be, so kind even after all the shit she’s been through—people like her are rare in a world like this one. Any man can fall in love with someone like her real easy if he ain’t careful.”

Tommy expects Joel to deny any kind of feelings towards you—part of him hopes he will. Much to his surprise, and his dread, he doesn’t. Leave it to Joel to develop some kind of affection for the one person, the one goddamn person he couldn’t fucking have. Hell, Esther, along with several other of the single and available women in the town had their sights on Joel. He could have his pick of the litter—and he fucking had eyes for you. The one woman who was already taken. 

“She’s off limits, big brother.” Tommy’s voice is firm. “She’s happily married to Luke. I’m sorry.”

“If you say so,” Joel mutters, taking another long sip of his bourbon. He doesn’t believe that you’re fine, not for a single fucking second. You weren’t fine, and you sure as hell weren’t fucking happy.

“Hey, I saw Ellie at the party last night. She looked like she was havin’ a real good time,” Tommy offers a change of subject. He smiles at him. “Seems like she even made herself a new friend, too. You must be pretty happy ‘bout that.”

Joel snorts into his glass. “That was short lived.”

“What are you talkin’ ‘bout?”

“She’s been actin’ strange today,” Joel confesses, feeling a dull ache in his chest. “Ellie’s been locked in her room all goddamn day and refuses to come out and talk to me. Her survivor’s guilt is too much for her sometimes, Tommy. As much as I try to be there for her, I don’t always know what the hell to do or even say when it rears its ugly fuckin’ head.” He quickly swallows the emotional lump rising in his throat. “She was so happy last night. She was enjoyin’ that party like any normal kid her age would. But as soon as we made it back home, I just knew she was feelin’ so bad about havin’ fun. I could tell her guilt was eatin’ her up alive. S’almost like Ellie feels like she doesn’t deserve it.”

“It ain’t her fault they gave up on a cure, Joel.”

“That’s the thing. They didn’t.” Joel whispers, so softly that the younger Miller almost hadn’t heard it. His throat bobs harshly. If he crosses this line, there’s no going back. “There’s somethin’ that I gotta tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Joel starts to say, a nervous edge to his tone. “I was s’pposed to take her to the Fireflies and then walk away.” He stops, looking down into the rich amber hues of his bourbon as he muses, “You go halfway across the country with someone—”

He trails off, shaking his head.

Tommy waits in silence for him to continue.

“Ellie needed her immunity to mean somethin’. It was her purpose, at least that’s how she felt.” Joel shrugs, fingers lightly tapping the sides of his glass. “Maybe I was startin’ to buy into that whole cure business. Maybe I just wanted to do right by her. I don’t know. Then we finally made it and we found the Fireflies. And because of Ellie, they were actually gonna make a cure.”

“Wait, what?” Tommy hisses in disbelief.

Meekly, he nods.

“The only catch was that it would kill her.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” Tommy murmurs. A sudden realization hits him and when he speaks again, his voice is strained. He knows where this is going. “What did you do?”

His reply is simple as he meets his gaze across the table.

 “I saved her.”

Joel takes a quick glance around, making sure that not a single soul is within earshot before he starts recounting the story of what had actually happened at the Firefly hospital in Salt Lake City. He spares no details, doesn’t try to sugarcoat how it had all gone down—he tells him the truth about how he had taken countless lives, including Marlene’s, in order to save Ellie. He confesses to mercilessly killing the one person who could have developed a cure and saved the world by putting a single bullet right through his skull.

“Goddamn,” Tommy utters quietly. “That’s—that is a lot. What does Ellie know?”

“I told her they just ran some tests on her.” Joel’s voice becomes thick with emotions as he admits, “I told her that her immunity meant nothin’ at all. I told her that there were dozens more like her.”

“And she believed you?”

“Didn’t say otherwise,” he replies. He sees it in his brother’s face— that he knows the real answer to that question, just like Joel does.

Tommy opens his mouth, then clamps it shut.

For once in his life, he’s at a complete loss for words.

“Listen, I know what kind of fuckin’ monster that you must think I am for what I did—”

“I don’t think that.” Tommy leans forward and he places his hand over Joel’s. “I get it, brother. Look I might know fatherhood yet—shit, my kid’s only the size of a fuckin’ peanut in my wife’s belly right now. But I get it, alright? If that would have been my child on that table in that operatin’ room, I would’ve made the same exact choice you did. I would have done whatever I had to in order to save my kid’s life.”

Joel’s eyes glisten with hot tears and he furiously blinks them back.

“I already lost one daughter, Tommy,” he chokes. “I wasn’t gonna lose another.”

Tommy firmly squeezes his hand. “I know, Joel.”

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” Joel says after a minute or two of silence. “Not even Maria.”

Tommy hesitates, not liking the idea of keeping yet another secret from his wife, but he agrees. “Alright.” He stands up from the table and nods over towards the door. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

[beanswrites]

Chapter 7 of "Moments Unwritten" - Sweet Punishment

i've recently been so deep into my "Under The Oak Tree" brianrot that I completely neglected my other fics oops-

also idk what possesed me but this is HEAVY smut (like PWP) and also a littleee non-canon bc we all know Riftan would never dare speak to Maxi like this

but when he's very jealous and a little under the influence of alcohol tho👀👀

pairings: Riftan Calypse x Maximilian Calypse (from Under The Oak Tree)

tags: smut, plot what plot, rough sex, blowjob, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, slight dom/sub, mentions of drinking, slight jealousy, ao3

summary: After Maxi unintentionally flirts with another knight during Riftan's banquet, he decided to punish her with his own methods.

click here to read the whole thing!!

Maxi fully expected him to bring out the whips and chains - or worse, to beat her with his bare hands - and she wasn’t sure she would be able to take it. The thought of those same hands which made her dishwell in his arms, the ones which held her cheek so gently as he kissed her, the same ones that made her come an endless amount of times and gently stroked her back afterwards - the thought of those same hands beating her, leaving her with bruises, broken bones and in so much pain, was too much for her to handle. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to continue on from bearing that much pain - no, she was sure she’d die on the spot, not because of her physical injuries, but because of a broken heart.

Instead, Riftan kissed her.

His kiss was hungry, starving, prodding her mouth with his tongue boldly. He demanded entrance in her mouth, and she had no way to say no - and not as if she wanted to, anyway. She tasted hard liquor on his tongue, the feeling of even more alcohol slowly pulling her to a hazy state of mind. Maxi hadn’t even noticed that his calloused palms traced their way down to her rear, greedily grabbing at the flesh.

[blackcatruse]

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

Story Synopsis: In the aftermath of the Tokyo Civil War Era, three gangs rose to the top: Kanto Manji, Rokuhara Tandai, and Brahman. These powerhouses have been locked in a stalemate, which only serves as temporary peace. In order to truly control Tokyo, one gang has to obtain all the money, power, and status. You’re a runner for a gang affiliated with Brahman, trying to claw your way out of debt that was never yours. The deals you make turn a significant profit, but your string of luck is starting to fray. When a deal goes south, you have no choice but to work with the infamous Haitani brothers. In exchange, you were promised freedom, but as you work the jobs with them, you begin to realize that the shadows hold something larger at play.

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ m.list ❃ ao3

pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: Enemy territory is a perfect, totally acceptable place to do business, right? The Haitani brothers don't think so, even if you do. word count: 1.4k chapter cw(s): swearing, physical violence, drug mention, death mention a/n: okay so, this is... loosely attached to the three deities arc. canon is just a suggestion, but because it's a stupid ass suggestion, i have elected to ignore it. i also threw in a ton of OCs, more than i was expecting too, oops. was not beta read & minimally edited. beware possible ooc

Being on enemy territory wasn’t on your to-do list for a Friday night, but the deal was important and the man you were supposed to be meeting said it had to be done here. Your boss said to do whatever you could to make it happen because it would make a huge profit. So here you are, decorated by neon pink and purple lights. The floor of the club was filled with moving bodies and reeked of sweat and alcohol. The thumping bass of the music vibrated the ice in your drink. Goddamn, if you weren’t annoyed. It was already nearing midnight and you hadn’t seen a lick of the man you were meeting. You couldn’t leave, but you also didn’t want to be seen here. You tried to stay in the shadows as much as possible, but you had already shooed away a few men that tried to hit on you, offer you a drink, or try to get you on the dancefloor.

You glanced down at your phone with a frown. There were no messages to be seen. Taking another sip of your drink, you scanned the sea of people writhing in the black lights. Maybe you should just go outside.

“What’s a pretty thing like you sittin’ all lonely?” A heavyset man plopped into the booth across from you. He smelled like a liquor cabinet.

You put on your best smile. “I’m just waiting on someone.” You stared over the man’s head and immediately saw the mule you were looking for. “Actually, he just got here. Sorry, got to go!”

Cursing men under your breath, you got up and weaved your way to him. His tattoos and piercings lined up with what you were told. You didn’t know his name, just an alias. But if you were being honest, you didn’t give him your real name either. The music made it almost impossible to speak without yelling, but when you came into his field of vision, he stared intently. You held up four fingers. He nodded and jerked his head towards the door.

Outside was far colder than the inside of the club. Your leather jacket did little for you. Both of you were in a narrow alleyway, underneath a flickering streetlight. Neither of you spoke, but you broke the silence. “Yon?” you asked.

A smirk, followed by, “Ah, so you’re Suzaku’s little Lotus.”

“Has your boss considered our offer?”

“Straight to the chase, I like that in a woman.”

If you were going to start a fight, you would inevitably lose. This monster of a man probably had a good eight or nine inches on you and at least a hundred pounds more muscle. You settled for a slight tick in your jaw. “You know that we’re experts at trafficking all sorts of things,” you said. “Running your drugs and dirty money would be a simple task.”

“Don’t you think Wuxing is getting a little greedy? You aren’t even a big name, just a subsection of Brahman. You have no negotiating power,” Yon scoffed. “Boss says he would consider it if you dropped your fees, then we could make something work.”

“Our rates are considerably lower, especially considering your gang isn’t well known either. You wanna get footing around here? You work with us.”

“Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“You know just as well as I do that money is power. Imagine how much money we could make you by running your goods through Shinjuku.”

“We’re not sure that profit will outweigh the costs. We’d rather run it ourselves in that case.”

It was your turn to scoff. “Brahman would never let you. They’d wipe you out in a second. But if you work with us, Brahman doesn’t know what we’re up to. We cover our tracks and we turn enough profit that the higher ups are willing to turn a blind eye.”

“Tell you what, we’ll think about it some more. Let Suzaku know he needs to send someone else other than his prized Lotus.”

With that, Yon turned and left. You knew this was something that could go south, but you figured the temptation of money would be enough. No, Yon was too smart for his own good. You should’ve met with someone dumber, but Yon’s boss started strong out the gate. Dammit. What were you going to tell Suzaku? Your string of luck with deals was running out, and it wouldn’t be long before he decided he was through with you.

You punched the brick wall next to you hard, ignoring the pain that seared down your arm. How had everything in your pitiful life come down to this? You could be at a university now. You could be on the path to an honest living, but no. That was never going to happen. There was blood on your hands that would never come off. It wasn’t your fault. You did what you had to in order to survive, but you couldn’t stay afloat much longer.

Damn your brother for getting tangled up in business with Wuxing. You could’ve had a normal life, but he had to go and fuck everything up for you. His debts were suddenly your debts when the leader of Wuxing decided your brother was worthless. Not only that, but your brother had tried to sell you like some kind of broodmare. At that moment, you realized that the older brother who was supposed to protect you didn’t care about you at all. You didn’t flinch or look away when the bullet went between his eyes. You didn’t feel anything except white hot rage.

You could have had a normal life. Instead you were making back alley deals and running money, drugs, and weapons. All to pay off a debt that would never truly go away.

Hefting a sigh, you glanced at your skinned knuckles. Yeah, that was gonna sting later. Well, you’d deal with everything tomorrow. You had a meeting with Suzaku. You’d tell him you weren’t successful, get the shit kicked out of you, and try again later.

“Well, well, what do we have here? A little mouse straying into enemy territory?” A deep voice behind you startled you, but before you could make a run for it a rough hand grabbed the collar of your jacket. You were lifted slightly off the ground and you couldn’t kick at your attacker.

Shit. You knew better than to panic and instead shucked off your jacket as quickly as possible. You hit the pavement with an unceremonious thud before sprinting away. You can’t say you didn’t try, but you really should have anticipated the person that tackled you. Before you could even process what was happening you were on the ground, your right arm prisoner and your upper body pinned by a pair of legs. Goddammit. You really were in trouble now.

“She’s fast, bro,” a voice said, you could almost hear the shit-eating grin.

You couldn’t struggle, but you heard the nonchalant footsteps. There was a painful tug on your arm, but you refused to scream. You didn’t want to meet in Minato ward for this exact reason, but Yon insisted or else the deal was off completely. Why, for the love of any deities that existed, would he want to do business where Rokuhara Tandai ruled? Especially when the gang had the S62 generation among them. Getting caught would basically be a death sentence, though, you supposed it was your fault for lingering too long.

You tilted your head up to see a tall, lanky silhouette outlined by the streetlights. A baton twirled in one of his twin braids. You were familiar with your captors. In your line of work, you’d be stupid to not recognize the Haitani brothers. There was Ran who loved beating anyone senseless by any means necessary, and then there was Rindou, who would trap you and break any limb he caught.

Another jerk of your arm had you gritting your teeth, but you wouldn’t give in. You’d had worse. They wouldn’t get the pleasure of your fear.

The tip of the baton touched your face as Ran leaned down to get a closer look at you. It trailed down your cheek almost sensually before it went underneath your chin. “I would really hate to mar such a pretty face,” he cooed.

You heard something crack as Rindou pulled harder. Tears welled in your eyes, but your lips stayed sealed.

“Wow, you’re tough,” Ran remarked, sounding rather impressed. His boot came down on your face with a sickening crunch. Stars danced in your vision and blood gushed from your nose. You still didn’t make a sound. You’d had worse beatings, and you didn’t want them to have any satisfaction. So you spit your blood at the older Haitani, and that’s the last thing you remember before blacking out.

Thanks for checking out my self-indulgent little story! I hope you enjoyed. Have a great day <3 I had wanted to post this earlier, but life got in the way and then i wanted to make a fancy banner, but i didn't have the skills so i asked a friend to do it (she did awesome). the concept was mine, but the art is hers lol

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me!

Can't wait? Ao3 has more chapters posted!

Banner Credit: @/cafekitsune

[venusandsaturnsrings]

sorry for the break but im back ueueue

got me thinking,,, do u ever think that incel diluc has some sort of savior complex rooted from the whole dark knight hero thing from canon? like i imagine that when he was running that bar, he'd have cases of people getting roofied and nearly taken advantage of and saves them, not mentioning that more than 3/4s of those cases were paid staff he hired personally,,,,

then when u came along strutting in with ur colorful attire and cheeky grin, dilucs mouth nearly waters and he has since decided to plan the most elaborate rescue to have u in his palms. he doesn't immediately save u when u were dragged out and stuffed into the van, he tracks u down (more like just drives through the abandoned warehouse he obviously rented for this masterpiece) and times his entrance just right so that he can stop it just as u were about to be disrobed. he knows he's won this when he sees ur thankful eyes, mascara running down ur tear streaked cheeks and pupils heart shaped at ur gallant savior.

honestly i see him justifying this with no one being really hurt in the end, and sometimes treat it as some sort of extreme sport.

idk sorry im really bad with other charas that aren't childe aaa

OOOOOOOOOH my love... you always feed me so so yummy... i'm never opposed to childe content EVER since he's almost all i talk about but diluc is so yum too... emotionally constipated red-head man <3 responding to this with @teyvatmoon in mind...

PLEASE READ THE TAGS ON THIS, IT'S A WEE BIT DARK

Diluc could justify anything and its somewhat of a talent. it's gotten him out of plenty sticky situations and is partially what has kept his reputation so very shiny. what kind of respected figure can't smooth talk and pull excuses from their ass? none of them. Diluc can do whatever 'horrible' things he wants as long as he can paint them as 'honorable' instead. who would go against the twenty-three year old student and business owner? no one with a brain, that's for sure.

since owning a café on campus was wildly successful in the day time, it was only the natural progression of things for Diluc to obtain a liquor license to host events in the evening. such after-hours happenings weren't frequent since it always took a lot of work and a lot of staff but he was happy to provide a space on campus for people to drink since, for everyone but you, it was safer. prior to starting these monthly events it took a lot of work with both the university, himself, and city representatives but Diluc is beyond charming when he sees fit. sorting out rules and standards was like nothing to the young man and so, every last Friday of the month, he'd host drinking at was usually a calm café.

you and your friends had frequented there during the day for quite sometime now so it was no surprise when you all began showing up to these monthly binge drinking sessions. it was nice to attend such an event somewhere you were already so familiar with in the day time. it didn't take long for you and the rest of your group to warm up to the place. perhaps for you, it was too fast.

the buildings front was a large glass garage door that would be rolled up in the hot months to create better airflow since there was no air conditioning and it also allowed for more people to hand about the area with extended seating. being September it wasn't quite cold enough for it to be necessary for the door to close and thus it was still left open. students milled about the whole area drinking and laughing. you had decided to wear something a bit more revealing and daring this evening just for fun, well, what was supposed to be fun.

the skimpy and fully pink outfit had definitely garnered stares; hungry ones. such a head-turning outfit surely had more than just Diluc staring desperately. this... choice... of yours simply furthered the righteous feelings brewing in his heart. he was excited and many surly mistook the slight upturn of his lips as love for his work when really it was love for you. it was hard for even such a self controlled man as him not to stare at your tits, ass, thighs, stomach, or any other expanse of skin his eyes could find. your plump flesh was everything to him and he was certainly going to savour this first night of many in which he'd indulge in such a beautiful body. Diluc had almost entirely zoned out on you up until you had finally come to him grinning and asking for a drink. whatever he recommended, you said. his dick jumped at the words. well, he certainly did have something extra special to make for you. the drink was a deep purple colour, bordering on black, and glittering. it smelled of alcohol as well as a cacophony of berries. it tasted almost better than it looked. the only thing that would've made it better was a less salty and bitter taste but Diluc had given it to you on the house so no real complaints could be made. the drink as well as the evening was gone in what felt like seconds.

you had stumbled around back near the parking lot for some air and to text your friends only to remember you had handed off your phone and wallet to one of your friends with pockets in their outfit as you had none. it only took that one moment of disorientation for you to feel as though your body was being twisted and wrung out in every direction. in a way, you were. the hard landing on metal barely covered in cheap blankets did nothing to soothe the growing panic and nausea filling your body. you squirmed in every direction and cried as loud as you could but the hands trying and holding you down never ceased. the latex gloved hands all smelled of rubbing alcohol and all the voices sounded like venom. you were wholly convinced this was where you'd die. the roughhousing that ensued upon the van stopping was almost worse. being thrown on the ground and dragged over sharp gravel and nails would've made you worried about tetanus if there wasn't a knife right against the back of your throat. you heard doors slam and felt your body slam. this was the final time you were to be thrown but also the first time it had caused you to throw up.

the bile rose up your throat quickly. the salty and acidic liquid that rose up ended up covering part of your front and all of the floor in front of you. the group of men merely laughed at you. mocking how you're so weak and useless. can't even hold it together enough to not make yourself sick, they crooned. their hands, however, never let up on their assault of roaming your body. you thought perhaps they expected this and the gloves were a preemptive measure. with your head still spinning and stomach churning you almost felt upset about the masks you could now see obscuring their faces. 'cowards,' you thought. they paused. did you say that aloud? ah. you're really fucked now.

the chunk of wood that flew across the room and hit one of them hard in the nose startled you. with a heavy head, you turned to see him. Diluc. so he had piped up to insult them and he had come to save you; if the gun in his hand was pointed at them the way you thought it was. it didn't take long for the under-armed group to flee and Diluc to land by your side. concern was etched all over his features as he gently untied and helped you up. he didn't seem to mind the vomit getting on him at all. it was sweet in a gross way.

he took you back to his very nice home, after a brief trip to urgent care for aforementioned needed tetanus shot, to have you properly cleaned up and given a mix of medicines that should alleviate the drugs running through you rather quickly. his hands were soft and human. not a touch of latex or a whiff of rubbing alcohol. his arms felt safe. Diluc held you until you slept that night, more than pleased with how things turned out. you'd be his now and the extra jack-off material he got from recording the whole ordeal could stay a secret. that was his guilty pleasure. <3

[bunk12bear]

Hunger Games Drabbles

I'd initially written these for a secret santa event over on Amino but realized that they probably didn't fit within the community guidelines so I wrote something else for that and I'm posting these here. They are Hunger Games Drabbles so trigger warnings for alcohol, mentions of Canon typical violence, sexual exploitation and suicidal ideation

Haymitch 

First day of the 73rd Hunger Games

Another year, another two tributes dead in the bloodbath. Haymich wasn't even sure why he bothered at this point; it had taken District 12 50 years to have a victor and he'd only won because he lucked out into finding the force field, something he's sure the game makers wouldn't let happen again. At this rate, he'll be as old as mags by the time he gets someone out of the arena. He's not sure if he can handle 40 more years of losses. If he had  known that this is what being a victor was like he would have just let the girl from one stick that ax into his head.  

He stands up, grabs the whiskey from the bar and downs the entire bottle without bothering to pour it out into a glass. 

He continues drinking. At one point Effie comes into the room and begins loudly lecturing him but he can't be bothered to listen to what she has to say.  She leaves and he passes out on the couch.

He wakes up with a hangover and promptly heads back over to the bar to get more alcohol. He knows his drinking is a problem and that he's only making District 12’s situation but every time he tries to quit everything comes crashing back in an instant, the horrors his games, the guilt over not being able to save Maisely, the grief from the loss of his family; it's just better to numb the pain.

The rest of the games are a blur, the boy from one wins and he thinks he remembers interacting with Joanna and maybe Finnick but truth be told he drank so much over those two weeks he genuinely may have been imagining that.

He doesn't miss the way the people of the Capitol stare as he stumbles into the train to go home. fuck them, fuck them and their stupid outfits and their  privileged lives and their callous attitudes if it weren't for them he'd never be in this position. 

 

He sits in his train compartment watching the countryside fly by as they drop everyone off at the other districts. By the time they get to 12, he's so drunk he can barely walk and ends up spending the night slumped over against a wall in the train station.

Bright and early the next morning he’s woken  up by the bright sun blaring in his face. He winces and slowly makes his way towards his victor mansion. Once inside, he slams the door, locks it behind him, and screams.

He grabs an empty liquor bottle and throws it at the wall enjoying the way it smashes to pieces then heads up to his bedroom. He can deal with the  glass later.

He rummages through his desk until he finds it, The notebook, the one with the names of every tribute he's failed to save. He flips through it a bit till he gets to the latest page  and quickly writes down their names. 

Marigold Stanton 17

Valerian Grantwell 13 

Numbers 45 and 46 of who knows how many. Two more lives lives snuffed out too early

He sits with the names for a moment before tossing the notebook back into the clutter on his desk and walking away. Maybe next year he'll get a fighter, maybe twist for the quarter quell the year  after will be something he could turn into a win but he doubts it.

He just hopes that maybe just maybe eventually they'll be someone who can get  12 a slight boost in morale but then again maybe it's better this way. After all, he hasn't had to deal with sponsors in years.

Still, he can't make himself lose the hope or the pain no matter how hard he tries to numb them.

“Oh well” he thinks “ there's always next year.”

Finnick

Capitol Victory party for for the 65th Hunger Games

“You know one I'm one of the people who got you that trident!” one of the wealthy Capital Officials tells him excitedly, “You were so handsome at your interview, we just had to make sure you got home.” 

Finnick’s stomach drops. Sure he had played up his good looks and charm during his interview, but he had also gotten an 11 for his training score. When that trident had floated down in the arena he had been so excited and proud thinking that somebody believed in his ability to win at only 14 and now he was realizing that they'd only sent it because I thought that he was pretty. A fog begins to occupy his brain and the only thing he can hear from the woman is. “You know it really is too bad that you're so young, I'm married but I have a couple of single friends who would just eat you up”

What is she talking about, he's 14 and this woman has to be at least 50, maybe she meant her friend's children? Maybe she has younger friends? He's not sure and before he can ask the woman walks away.

He had never anticipated that this is what winning would be like, everyone had talked of glory and triumph but no one had mentioned the nightmares or the survivor's guilt or the fact that people in the Capitol still treated you like some sort of cute but slightly unclean animal.

He just wants to go home but he's still stuck at his stupid party for several more hours, flashing Charming smiles and protecting like he likes these people who refuse to see his humanity.

Hours later when he's finally back up at T

the District 4 apartment and out of the ridiculous clothing they put him in he sits with Mags in the dark living room.

“Is it always like this?” he asks quietly pulling his knees up to his chest. 

Mags pulls him into a hug and kisses him on the top of his head, “ yes and no mijo, you're getting the most attention right now because you're the most recent Victor it will fade but you'll always have eyes on you, it's the burden we must bear.” she says.

“For the glory of District 4 right?"  he asks hesitantly.

He can see sadness flashing her eyes very briefly before she smiles warmly at him, “ yes of course, for the glory of District 4.”  

He falls asleep nestled In her arms with her quietly singing him an  old District 4 lullaby but when he wakes up he's back in his bed.

He dresses in the clothing that's been laid out for him and follows the other district four victors to the train. Crowds of people  have gathered close to the train station and he hates the way they gawk at him like he's some exotic zoo animal. Mags quickly recruits two of the male tributes to stand on either side of him and shield him from their staring. The minute they reach the train he darts to his quarters, locks the door behind him, and pulls the curtains closed. There, in the private confines of his bathroom, he takes a long hot shower and tries to scrub away the unpleasant feeling spreading itself on his skin. He doesn't join the rest of the victors until long since lost sight of the capital.

For the next 9 years he secretly delights when the good looking tributes die, he knows it's horrible to be happy about the death of child but surely it can't be much worse than what snow would have in store for them if they won. 

Of course, good looking tributes do make it out of the Arena, a couple meet the same fate he did but Annie's Madness protects her. Joanna Mason learns the hard way what happens when you refuse President Snow.

So, sitting there watching Peeta Mellark make Katniss Everdeen desirable during the interviews for the 74th Hunger Games, a familiar dread begins to creep its way through his body  He admired the boys charisma and understood that he was doing was boble but that didn't stop Finnick wondering if he had just condemned the girl he loved to a fate worse than death.

[yelenabelovq]

iii. the hatred of a minute | m.m.

series masterlist

summary: long nights begin being crowded by things you don't want to see materialize, after your legal battle runs its course. the question stands: can you fight your way out of this one? or will you finally fall?

playlist: permit the righteous to be moved | m.m.

word count: 3.6k

rating: 18+, swf, canon typical violence with a slight trigger warning for assault/SA (latter only mentioned in a medical sense), slight she-hulk spoilers

a/n: (playlist starts after if i'm being honest) this quote comes from an edgar allen poe passage, "years of love have been forgot, in the hatred of a minute." hello all! i know it's been like nine months since my last chapter and honestly i shouldn't promise any more consistent updates lmfao. i've moved twice (once cross country) since my past chapter and i'm moving out of state again in like two weeks. so life has been unreasonably crazy lately, but i watched she-hulk and when she said the accords were revoked i was like are you fr rn bc so much of this fic's plot was in fact based around the accords but also i hadn't been writing bc i didn't know what i wanted to so with it so honestly that little tweak in canon made me wanna overhaul the plot and start writing again so here i am!! this is still the bare bones of where i had planned on going with the series but with some changes so that i'll actually be invested in writing it lol and i hope y'all will be invested in reading it!! also shout out to the three people in my notes who reblogged the first two chapters like two days ago that finally made me start writing, yall are awesome. this is for u. (and she-hulk) (oh yeah also matt in she-hulk!! sexy af)

March 2024

Matt could smell your hangover.

Every inch of you was drenched in sweat and vodka and sick. You stumbled into the office of Nelson, Murdock, and Page a little after eleven, half reeling, and rendering Matt more than a little concerned. Foggy met you as you made it in the door, helping you to the small couch next to his desk.

“What the hell happened to you?” Foggy asked, tossing Matt a water bottle to hand to you.

“Have you seen, like, literally any public media source?”

Matt hummed, leaning against the desk across from you. “I did. Imagined you’d take it about this well, too.”

“Thought you couldn’t see, Murdock.”

Matt chuckled. “Good to know your humor’s still in tact.” He unscrewed the bottle an handed it to you. You took it, taking a long sip, then pressing your head to the back of the couch.

“How does, like, the law work?” you asked. “Can I sue? I wanna sue, or something. Get that asshole to put his shield down.”

Foggy laughed sympathetically, walking around to take a seat. He’d told Matt you would be coming in today only about an hour ago, detailing the phone call he’d had with Bucky Barnes. Apparently he’d fished around your purse until he found Foggy’s business card and called, asking if you could come in. Neither of them knew what the topic of your visit was, but after last night’s news spectacle, it wasn’t hard to guess. 

“That’s not how the law works, unfortunately,” Matt answered you. “Also, we’re defense lawyers.”

“Okay, and?”

“We don’t sue people.”

“We protect the people getting sued,” Foggy supplied.

“Assholes,” you mumbled, eyes sliding shut.

“So, what, did you raid a liquor store last night?” he asked, voice dancing with the odd mix of sympathy and humor.

“Tried to outdrink Bucky.”

“How well did that go?”

“Can’t remember a single thing after four p.m., but at least my hangover hurts worse than the news blasts I keep getting on my phone do.”

“You can turn those off, you know,” supplied Foggy helpfully.

“Fuck off, Nelson.” Matt laughed, suddenly acutely aware of the rip in your jeans where your skin poked through unhindered. You were crowding his senses for some reason. He pushed off the desk, walking around just to give himself something to do. He noted what was happening outside the window. Someone was walking a dog, a couple was arguing, a few honks from taxi drivers, the smell of you underneath all the liquor—

Knock it off, he thought. 

He paced back around to the opposite side of the desk, balancing himself on the edge. Your voice coated his thoughts as he tried to focus on what you and Foggy were saying. 

Foggy was explaining something about the legality of the Accords to you that Matt was struggling to catch on to. You swore at whatever he said. Matt let the conversation float over him as his senses crept out to the warmth of your skin and the softness of your voice and whatever shampoo you used that made you smell so good. He dug his nails into the wood of the desk below him, something solid to keep him from drifting into whatever made him like you so much. He knew he couldn’t, knew he shouldn’t, after the alarms went off in his mind the last time he walked you home and you’d leaned into his touch just a little too much. That bit of intimacy you’d offered him, the trust you were putting in him was misguided, unearned, and dangerous. Not with who he was. Not with who you were. 

So he denied himself, as any good Catholic would. 

He was brought back into reality when Foggy directed something at him. 

“What?” he stuttered, willing his brain to come up with something a little bit better. 

“Still with us?” Foggy laughed. 

You remarked, “I thought I was the one who was wrecked,” and he clenched his jaw. 

“My mind wandered.” He took a slow, deep breath. 

He couldn’t ignore the soft laugh you gave, or the way your pulse picked up with awareness under his focus. He could tell Foggy knew he was full of shit. "What did you say?"

"Do you think you could handle a neighborly visit?" Foggy asked.

Matt had no idea what he was talking about.

Thankfully, Foggy saved him the embarrassment of having to ask. "I'm going to do the best I can to figure out how to get around this once Bucky Barnes gets in contact with Sam Wilson. I think you should pay a visit to Mr. Walker."

Matt huffed and shifted from foot to foot. "Um, why?"

"Trying to prevent a murder," he answered dryly, then pointed a finger at you. "You are not to make contact with Walker. At all. I don't care. Relay that message to Bucky as well."

You sighed and rolled your eyes, letting your head lull back onto the couch. Your hair fell away from your neck, exposing more of your skin to the air. No more deep breaths.

"I think it can be arranged," Matt said.

He felt you tense, like you were making to get up, but you didn't move. Matt rounded the desk again, offering his arm to you. "Let's get you home."

You took it, letting him half-haul you up off the couch and into a standing position. Your skin was so soft. "Coffee?" he asked.

"You buying?"

He smirked at you, then turned his attention to Foggy. "Send any updated you find?'

Matt could tell Foggy was giving him a look that he was hoping you weren't picking up on, powers or not. You let yourself be escorted out the door, down the stairs, and out of the building, the entire time not letting go of Matt's arm.

New York liked to pretend to have spring. There was snow on the ground, and the temperature was barely breaking 65, in a way that let non-locals believe there might be some warmer weather up ahead. He knew better, though. He knew New York would stay icy for a long while longer.

He walked along the streets covered with melting snow, dodging tourists and kids checking out colleges on spring break. No one paid him a second thought. People were too busy thinking about themselves. Everyone is always only ever thinking about themselves.

Even when there was so much hurt in the world. So much that needed to be fixed and yet everyone chooses to think only about themselves. Everyone chooses to ignore the help they could give others and instead make it about them. So selfish, he thought. But he wasn't selfish. He thought about other people. He thought about the betterment of other people. Of a community.

That's why it took him so long to pick the perfect person. He didn't want to call her a victim. A pretty blonde in a pinstripe suit. She had just hung up the phone. Perfect, he thought. She wasn't a victim, no. Even as she thrashed and kicked as he came down hard with a hand over her mouth and dragged her into the alleyway just to his right. She wasn't a victim, she was the beginning to the betterment of a community. Of the world.

He pushed the needle into her skin, letting the dosage sink into the muscle of her arm. He'd had to tear her pretty blazer. He was sure she'd be fine with it if she knew. If she knew she was the beginning to a better community.

She lost her fight as the dose made its way through her system, slowly slumping in his arms as he lowered her to the ground, and he left her there to wake up later, making his way back into the sidewalk as if nothing had happened.

"Are you sure they're going to let you in in your condition?"

You laughed, still clinging to Matt's arm as you both made your way to the hospital. He'd insisted on ensuring you made it there safely, despite your protests. It's either this or the rooftops, he's said. He'd bought you coffee. You figured you could start your shift off on the right foot.

"They don't care what state I'm in as long as I can change a bedpan and start and IV," you remarked.

Mat laughed, and you liked the sound. "Let me know if you ever want to unionize."

"We're med students, Matt, I'm not even a real employee."

"That... sounds like it should break some labor laws."

You screwed up your face. "Gotta learn somehow. There could be worse ways. Than legalized slavery."

"Oh no," Matt said around another one of those pretty laughs. God. Go back to when you hated him, you thought. It was so much easier than thinking he was beautiful. And God, was he.

"I'll be fine," you stated, trying (and failing) to stop staring at him in the glistening springtime air. "Couple more cups of coffee and I'll be human-shaped again. Or, med student-shaped. How about you go out there and make sure we don't get any stabbings or GSWs? I want a quiet night."

"I'll try my best," he said, releasing your arm so he could slide his hand up and down it. What a gentleman, warming you up. So polite.

You stood there in silence, trying to come up with something to say maybe to extend the moment, or maybe a dig to make it not as incredibly obvious as it felt that you really enjoyed his company. Before you got the chance, a scrub-clad energy ball launched at you.

"You gotta come in here, we got a chick with some weird-ass symptoms, right up your alley. Come do your funky thing." He shivered. "God, it is freezing out here."

"Derek, no, that's not how this works and you know it." You sighed, closing your eyes, and digging your phone, which had begun ringing, out of your coat pocket.

"It is now," Derek said, smiling like he was sharing an inside joke with you. His smile faltered when he realized you were entirely lost. "You didn't see? I thought you would be jumpin' for joy."

"See what, Perez?" you asked, funneling every inch of exasperation into the question.

"The Accords got revoked. You get to be super doc."

"What?" you and Matt snapped in unison.

You looked down at your phone to see Foggy calling and thrust the phone up to your ear.

"Is it true?" you demanded at the same time Foggy said, "I have the best news ever!"

You heard him laugh on the other end of the line. "No more collar or leash for you, baby! The Accords were just revoked for American citizens!"

"Is he serious?" Matt asked you in a low voice.

You felt like you were going to pass out.

"I knew this had been in the works in congress but I didn't want to get my hopes up, but it's happening, baby!" Foggy was going on.

"What?" you snapped.

"Effective immediately, you are no longer required to sign the Accords. No leash, no monitoring. Go have fun."

"I would definitely still check with your higher-ups before using your abilities at work," Matt supplied.

"Is that Matt? Matt, you asshole, I've been calling you for like 10 minutes!"

"Dude," Derek said, "you've gotta come see this girl."

You were frozen in place, frozen with shock until you felt Matt's hand come to rest on the small of your back. You took a shuddering breath. "So, I'm free?"

"You're free," Foggy said gently.

You hung up the phone without saying goodbye, and turned to Matt. "I should get in there." Patients first, feelings later.

"Have a good evening," Matt said, his hand falling from your back. "Text me when you get home.

You knew damn well he would know when you got home without you texting him. But you didn't say anything. Instead, you turned back to Derek as he walked away and you forced yourself not to let your gaze follow him.

"Do I have time to get scrubs?"

"This chick is wild, okay," Derek began, ignoring your question. "I'd just gotten in when she came in. Flu-like symptoms, so the docs put her on me, right? Turns out, she was assaulted walking to work. All shaken up. I went to go get the kit, but she kept refusing, thought she'd probably feel safer with a female doc. So I offered up one of the interns, but she refused again. Said she was conscious for the entire attack, and all that happened was this guy stuck a needle in her arm and left her on the ground." He kept talking as you rounded the corner into the locker room. "Scumbag, right? I wasn't sure I believed her, but she let me do a physical exam and the only signs of struggle were on her face and neck. And her arm, where the needle went in. So she's telling the truth. And here's the catch. Tox screen is nuts."

You shrugged on your white coat. "How so?"

"Lit up like a Christmas tree," Derek said, shaking his head. "Amphetamine, opiates, benzos, tylenol, you name it."

You raised your brow at him. "Wow."

"And get this, she's bleeding from every line we give her. I tried to put in an IV, blew the vein."

"You're bad at IV's."

"Not that bad," he said indignantly. "But even Mar tried, and the line started bleeding. Mar! Best nurse in this place botched an IV. Doc Cohen tried to put in a central line, more bleeding. Her pressure was skyrocketing every time we tried too."

"That would sense," you said following him further into the ER. "Eight million drugs in someone's system ought to thin the blood."

"Yeah but we get at least a central line on druggies. Besides, she doesn't have any past drug use history. Her lines are clean, man." He led you to a private room towards the back of the ER. You pushed open the door with a sigh.

There was a young girl on the bed, two bloody bandages around her arms and a bandage across her chest. She was pretty, twenty-something with her blonde hair falling out of a ponytail at the back of her head. There was what looked like a designer bag and pinstripe pants discarded in the corner, the matching jacket in an evidence bag.

"Hannah Edwards, this is one of my colleagues, she's gonna do a much better job of figuring this out than we are," Derek supplied as you walked farther into the room.

You introduced yourself with as much smile as you could muster, sitting down next to the bed. "Don't sell her lies, Dr. Perez, please. How are you feeling?"

"Like a human pin cushion with a nasty flu," Hannah said with a weak smile.

"Can you tell me when you started getting the flu symptoms?" you asked.

"Like, fifteen minutes after the guy got me. I laid on the floor, not able to move for like ten minutes. When I got up, I started to go home, but I got, like, super dizzy and feverish five minutes later, so I came here instead."

"You were paralyzed?" you asked.

"I guess?" Hannah shrugged. "I got really groggy for a while and then when I tried to move, everything felt super heavy. It took me, like, ten minutes, like I said, to get up and move. Then I felt all dizzy and came here."

"Good thing," you said. You let your ability reach out ever so slightly, creeping out to touch whatever weird sickness surrounded her.

You jumped back.

"What, what is it?" Hannah asked.

"Dr. Perez, could I see that tox screen please?"

Derek handed you the paper. "Told you, there's almost so much on there that it's unusable."

"She shouldn't be upright with all of this in her system. Have you had any vomiting, Hannah?" You read the tox report again and again, begging the number to make sense but--Hannah Edwards should be dead right now if this were true.

"Just a little nausea," Hannah answered.

"Temp's been bouncing between 100 and 102," Derek said from behind you. "That's the third tox I ran. Same result every time."

You stood up, turning to meet his eye. "Let's get this shit out of her system, please."

You walked out of the room, almost slamming face-first into your resident as the door shut behind you.

"Did you do your thing?" Dr. Cohen asked.

"I, uh--"

"She started to, but something weird happened, huh?" Derek supplied. He'd seen you break the rules with your mutation once or twice or enough to tell when you did.

"It was weird. Like her sick pushed against me. She has so much in her system she should be dead or close to it, but there's something to keep her standing," you told them.

"Which is?" Cohen asked.

"I... don't know."

"Okay, so go find out." Cohen flashed her brown eyes between you and Hannah.

You sighed and shook your head before shutting your eyes and willing the hustle and bustle of the ER to go quiet for just a moment. You let your ability reach out once again, tendrils of invisible power creeping toward Hannah in her bed. You let it lace through every drug in her system, finding familiar things like acetaminophen and penicillin, the odd things like an antidepressant, and the less familiar things you were assuming were things like cocaine and meth, until you found... nothing.

"There's nothing there."

Derek and Cohen stared at you.

"What?" Derek asked.

"All that must be a front. She just has the flu." You looked between the puzzled expression the two shared.

"A flu that came on in less than fifteen minutes," Cohen supplied.

"I'm not saying that's all it is, or all that's gonna develop." You shoved the chart back into Derek's hands. "You should admit her for observation. I need a cup of coffee."

Your phone rang again hours later and as it flashed on the table of the breakroom, you found yourself hesitant to answer.

"Hi, Matt," you said as you brought the phone up to your ear.

"Good evening," he said, his voice silky and husky and you wanted to hang up.

"Hi."

"Are you walking home tonight?"

"Alone," you said. Not the smartest idea, all things considered, but you knew when someone was going to sneak up on you. You were an Avenger for fuck's sake. You could walk home alone tonight.

His voice dropped imperceptibly lower. "What happened?"

"Nothing," you said, carefully keeping emotion out of your voice. "Busy night. And, plus, I don't really need a lawyer anymore, since the Accords were revoked. So."

Matt laughed dryly, and you felt like you could imagine his face on the other end of the phone. He sighed. "You know I can hear your heartbeat through the phone, right?"

"You're so full of shit."

"You're lying to me. Why are you blowing me off?"

"Cause I'm a big girl, Murdock!" You dragged a hand over your face. Attachment was not your style, even Steve knew that, but this guy was making that very difficult. "I don't need you trying to sneak into my bed every night."

"You have got to stop with the lying, it's getting you nowhere with me."

You screwed up your face. "Goodbye, Matt." And you hung up the phone.

Matt was not having a good night. 

He went out on patrol like he did most nights. Like you told him to that night. That was where he'd called you from, a rooftop in Hell's kitchen. Maybe he did go seeking out trouble. Getting into fights he didn't need to be in. He wasn't unaccustomed to getting his ass kicked. No one knew more than Matt Murdock what pavement tasted like. What differed tonight from most nights, though, was the level at which he got his ass kicked. 

Whatever he was stuck with, it knocked him on his ass for a good ten minutes. Groggy and disorienting, like every cell was magnetized to the floor. His throat hurt, probably a symptom of being out in the cold all night. Even Daredevil wasn't immune to the common cold. He hauled himself off the floor with great effort, shocked his assailant left him there, and a little upset with himself he let the guy get away.

He was beaten and bruised and thoroughly feverish as he sat on the subway to Brooklyn.

He didn't want to show up on your doorstep. And you'd made it very clear you didn't want anything to do with him. But he was tired, and everything ached, and if anyone could fix his potentially broken rib, it would be you.

So, no, he didn't really blame you for the shock when you opened the door to your condo and found him slumped against the doorframe.

"Matt?" Your voice was high and indignant.

"I don't--" He fell forward, and you caught him taking off his mask.

"What the hell happened?" you demanded.

"Lost a fight," he managed, letting you guide him to the couch. He felt... some sort of tickle. Something that relaxed his muscles and felt soft, like how he imagined your skin felt.

"Matt, what the hell? Who did you get in a fight with?"

"I don't--" He grunted in pain, then relief as the pain in his ribs subsided.

He felt your face contort in pain, and your breath hitch.

"Don't--" he started.

"What happened?" you tried again.

His body started to feel light, so light, as if he were floating. Then he felt you slump against him, and suddenly, sleep was grabbing at his senses. He tried his hardest to resist it, tried to shake you awake, but he just ended up falling asleep, a hand snaking into your hair.

[unbridledbrainrots]

Home is (never) far away

Rating: Restricted  Length: ~1,4k words Genre: Canon-divergence, angst, a little comfort in the middle Pairing: Sebastian Moran (from Moriarty The Patriot)  x  OC (named Emmanuelle “Emma” Rousseau/Greta) Notes: Back again with my project hohoho~ this one is set before the entente on chapter 60... oh definitely breaking the rules of historical accuracy, proofread as always but maybe some things left unnoticed, also... there’s (implied) mention of William in the middle of the story. Enjoy! P.S. Please listen to Taylor Dayne’s Love Will Lead You Back to enhance the experience.

The stool shrieked as the four legs rubbed the old wooden floor backwards. A woman perched on that pulled seat, and let herself lost in her own thoughts of which liquor should she drink. The pub was relatively crowded since it was late afternoon. And in a few hours, there would be a reception party at the nearby hotel—in which Emmanuelle Rousseau was assigned there to assist one of the ambassadors in an agreement between two longtime rivals; hence, she still had time to sneak out awhile. 

“Do you have brandy?” That was very out of the blue from her who regularly savoured white wine in a pub whenever she was on her own. Perhaps she was tense these past days due to heightened workload, so she needed a quick and easy escape through today’s choice. 

“Sure, in seconds.”

Emma smiled as the bartender served her order in a snifter, “thanks.” Then her hands cupped the glass, letting the warmth from her body seeped into the liquor. Coming back to London after three years made her mind suddenly reminiscing past memories in the country, be it on or off duty. First sip to quench her stress, she pictured herself lying down on a mattress of grass then thanking God for a clear sky full of glittering stars. Second sip to numb her senses, all those files pressed her head yet her eyes had to read them. And the third to—

“Whiskey. On the rocks, please.” That lifeless voice harmonised with a loud screech from the pulled stool beside her. And the next sequence was a pure idiocy: Emma unconsciously shifted her gaze from her brandy to the newcomer, and that person also did the same as if he knew the previous sound surprised his neighbour. Time froze for them; and their minds were full of cuss and blame, even noisier than the pub itself. 

Sebastian Moran and Emmanuelle Rousseau were staring at each other awkwardly and they loathed themselves for it. They never expected their forgotten memories simply arose from the dusty tombs—and it was all because of their foolishness! Shit, they shouldn’t be too responsive to a slight noise. And then the ordered liquors somehow became bland, maybe sour when touching the respective tongues. But they had to clean their rowdy minds first so they still swallowed that to refrain themselves from breaking down. Oh, how funny! They were professionals who had been hiding their true identities from each other, and on top of that their relationship was strictly sexual; but why did they behave as if they were ex-lovers? Did they finally admit that they had crossed the line by chance?

At least, there was a big relief between those curses—they were still alive, although their appearances were like two different worlds. Emma, in his eyes, looked refined as she was supposed to be: well-dressed with a thin layer of makeup and dark rouge on her lips to enhance her beauty. However, for her, Moran seemed like he lost his will to live, probably a few steps closer as a living corpse. His cheekbones indicated a slight loss in his weight, his lower jaw was full of stubble, yet the unfinished revenge she used to see in his eyes came back along with the usual melancholy he bore on his shoulders. 

Moran finally sat on the stool, thus making him lost in the staring contest. Emma tightened her grip on the glass before she gulped the remaining brandy in a flash—and none of them realised that they drank their own booze in unison. Silence. A thorny silence. Their lips puckered, reluctant to greet each other, or perhaps they were settling their minds first.

“How are you?”

“How’s life?”

Again, they looked at one another. And they tittered afterwards; at last the tension between them had cooled down a little. 

“I’m good,” Emma replied. 

“So, your little sister has fully recovered, then?”

“Ah—” Emma was slightly taken aback by his question, but she managed to keep her composure and nodded in reply. Moran knew she lied about the answer, even the whole excuse from three years ago was also a lie. Her face said it all! But he couldn’t be angry at her. No, he wouldn’t do that to her, never; and it was all in the past. Moreover, just to see her once again was enough—and she was like a glimmer in the gloom for him. 

“I’m happy to hear that.” 

Emma merely smiled then looked down on the table. Everything she wanted to utter was swallowed to her throat; she truly had no courage to ask him back, seeing him miserable somehow made her heart burnt for the second time. Her forefinger danced on that solid wood, enough to distract her for a while. 

Then, Moran exhaled deeply soon after he finished his shot. And much to her surprise, he leaned his head on her shoulder. Emma remained silent but she felt the weight of his crumbled world pressing her skin, so close to tear it apart. If he wanted to cry, let him be—she kept that thought in her mind; she didn’t care if one side of her red overcoat became darker as maybe she was the only solace he had. 

“Stay. I have nowhere to go.”

“Don’t you have a home, sir?”

“I’ve lost him.”

Sometimes silence was the best response Emma could do, but she stretched her arm to tenderly caress his head as she leaned her head closer, giving him reassurance as best as she could.

“You’ll find your home soon.”

“No—” Moran whimpered. His arms confined her waist as he snuggled closer to her neck. Then a loud snivel deafened Emma slightly, yet her fingers kept brushing his tousled black hair as if his cry never bothered her. “Don’t worry, you’re home even if it’s for a while,” she mouthed those words cowardly, she simply didn’t want him to know because she thought her gesture was enough to comfort him. Five, ten, fifteen, she occasionally looked at the longcase clock near the bar counter; she still had time. 

No, twenty. Time’s up! Emma reluctantly tapped his shoulder and whispered, “I’m sorry.” Moran arose from her shoulder and sat straight on his stool. She smiled wistfully as she took out her hanky to wipe his face gently. At this point, she wished she could stay longer with him, even just for a chat, but she still had a duty to perform. And deep down, his heart shattered as she returned the hanky back to her pocket. He finally realised that he yearned for her, yet ironically all he could say was an impossible plea to be fulfilled. 

“Why can’t you stay longer?”

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologised again, “I have something important to do, Mr. Moran.”

Moran only sniggered. Ah, now he understood everything about her; no wonder she had been a great liar since day one, no wonder she refused to exchange some words, no wonder she completely distanced herself from him afterwards, it was a perfect disguise executed by a brilliant actress. All of their memories flashed through his eyes. He was a fool, a fool that took him three years to perceive her true colours. And the stubbornness in him still wanted her closer—no, not as a potential enemy, but as a friend to share stories. 

“Right, go—”

“I have to go,” Emma took out some money and placed it on the table, “ah, bills on me! Say it’s a treat for a regular though it’s too late.” She ended her sentence with a beam on her face; and that smile might be something Moran would hate for the rest of his life. As she got up from her seat, he grabbed her wrist.

“Can we—can I write a letter to you, Greta?” Moran knew her name wasn’t Greta but that was all he got from her. 

“You’re such a strong-willed person, sir. But still, the absolute answer is no.” Of course, Emma would decline it again; at least, their relationship finally received a closure—it was all over before it could begin. 

Moran slowly loosened his grip, “well, I guess… good luck, dear.” He then looked at her with a forced smile. He had to let go of her again, and for the last time. “Thanks,” Emma bowed at him before she walked away from the pub. And he could only watch her slowly disappearing into the early twilight.

[aplacewhereidumpmywritings]

Light it up up up

Pairing: Y/n x OC (Green-eyed man) enemies to.. trope!

Summary: The bar you work at got caught in mafia crossfires, and you helped a man despite his existence annoy the hell out of you.

Warnings: lots of swearings, blood, death

Notes: Just something I have worked on based on some rp prompts. I was wondering if I should write it as a fanfiction, but then worried if my writing is not canon enough. Please enjoy. I really based the OC on Ash Lynx or Williams Moriarty but not their personality. :3

Words: 2.4k

It was a chilly night. You had to replace the shift of a coworker, tending the bar at a popular establishment downtown.

You are still in college, working double shift at a cafe by day and the bar by night. Since you had to work for the extra money, extra effort is needed in balancing your criminology studies and work. A typical college student.

"Chilly night, eh?" A patroness, who goes by the alias Suna, mentioned, taking her usual spot at the far end of the bar.

Y/n smiled as you wipe clean a whisky glass, "Yes. It gets pretty chill these days, the usual?"

In Japanese, Suna means sand, and her sandy blonde hair looks more alluring than usual tonight. The patroness squints her eyes, before shaking her head, "White Russian."

You nodded, despite a change in her regular drink, and a rare order at that, you maintained your pokerface.

The order is a coffee flavor liquor Kahlua, vodka and cream. The patroness turned to another male customer on her left, pretty invested in a half-whisper discussion.

Your employer, the bar owner insisted on restocking the inventory every week, the Goddess of Fortuna is on Suna's side.

At the bar, there's one unspoken rule: never order White Russians as the cream's freshness will always be questionable. The cream should be unexpired in the fridge. You bent down to check the mini fridge when you heard, "One Black Russian. Please? "

Standing back up with the cream in your hand, you looked questioningly at the man sitting right in front of you, a few seats away from Suna. He stared back at you with his green eyes and a small boyish smile.

He looked younger than the rest of the patrons in the bar. Adding value to his youthful looks and brown tuff of hair, a dark red headphone rests on his neck. You silently question if the bouncer did ask for this man's ID before letting him in.

You nod, hands quick to prepare the ordered drinks.

The man puts his headphone over his ears and you nearly laugh out loud, biting your tongue down as you cling hard to your self-control, staying professional.

Who listens to their own music when in a loud bar? No one, except for this guy.

You slide the White Russian to Suna, and the Black Russian: a same drink, just without the cream to the man. Suna flashed you her stunning smile, the smile she always offers to the men vying for her. She asked, "Is it fresh?"

You open your mouth but the green-eyed man responded out loud, "Should be. I trust the bar."

Suna ignored the man, and both Suna and the man were staring at you. Ignoring the turmoil of emotions boiling inside you, you nodded slightly, excusing yourself to tend to other waiting patrons.

Both of them went back to their own business, not interacting to each other after the weird one-way exchange. You watch them from the corner of your eyes, while continue working as normal as you could.

After a full hour, and countless regular patrons, Suna eventually stood up.

You walked to her and she flashed you another smile. This time, her smile was less charismatic and more mysterious before it turns into a slight genuine smile. Her eyes flashed something when you look at her straight.

She collected her chain shoulder bag, pulling it over her shoulder and motioning to the man beside her, a small lotus tattoo between her pointer and middle finger has always caught your attention. "My drink is on him."

You look to the man beside her, a man in his 40s based on his appearance and one-pack belly, with a cloudy expression. Suna left a small creamy kiss on his cheeks. He took off his glasses and massaged his temple, as if in distress. The tattoo on his hand is a lotus too.

Guilt. That was the emotion that crossed Suna's eyes. The patroness has already disappeared, in the direction of the female washroom. The distressed man takes out his wallet while you wait for him to pay.

A gunshot rangs through the air. In a few seconds, the distressed man was hurled off his seat, due to the gunshot impact, blood seeping through his white shirt.

Your eyes widened as you register the situation when the green-eyed man earlier, hopped across the bar and pulled you down along with him.

"What the fu--"

"Language." He chided for your swearing before peeking back to see the situation. You wanted to swear at the man badly but the chaos ensued after held you back.

Soon after, a series of gunshots rings through the air, coupled with a few screams from the patrons and--

"Do not the press the emergency button until I give you a sign to do so." The green-eyed man placed his headphones over your ears.

You froze, your hand halfway reaching for the black button. The emergency button is to alert your employer that there's an emergency and calls for the security.

The wireless headphone was playing a song at a volume that you knew you will go deaf if you continue listening for long hours. A song by Fall Out Boy. My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark.

The green-eyed man hopped out from the bar and you peeped from behind the counter to look at the situation.

The man with Suna earlier was already lifeless on the floor. Two men were shooting at the underage green-eyed guy while someone was shooting from the direction of the female washroom.

The rest of the patrons were already scrambling outside, and you winced when you saw few familiar lifeless faces who were caught in crossfires.

The green-eyed man got grazed by his right shoulder and tried to reach for something on the floor. He jumped back behind to the counter and you watched him, as it happened right in front of your eyes.

Bang! He got shot in the sides. Twice before falling to the floor and grunting, holding onto his sides.

The song ended right when he half-whispered, "Press the button, now." You pressed the button before you saw that few men in black long coats rushing in. The situation went for a worse turn, you swore internally.

Bullets flying everywhere, and blood spilling on the floor, especially blood from the green-eyed man. You held your breath when you see precious bottled beers wasted when someone clearly could not get their machine gun under control.

"Help me to the back door. Please?"

You sighed when the blood he tried desperately to contain ruined your new work shirt, yet you held your tongue and guided him to the back door.

You heard a few more gunshots and a scream, before you manage to push open the door, dragging the man outside. The man was stumbling, losing his consciousness due to blood loss.

"Stay with me, you heavy ass." You said, as you drag half of his weight and guide him down the dark alleyway.

He hissed, "Language."

You manage to pull him up the staircase, making sure to not let any of his blood trails down, using your work shirt to press on his gushing wound. You thanked god that you decided to wear a black sleeveless shirt underneath your white work shirt uniform today.

You open the door that reveals to a room, a room you rented, and let the man sit on the floor.

Taking the first aid kit from your desk, you sit down cross-legged by his side. He tried to rummage through your kit, but you slapped his hands away. He huffed and settled to watch you. He did not lose too much blood but treating the bullet wounds was not an easy feat either.

You decided to just stop the bleeding and apply a pressure bandage on the wounds. You tried your best to properly bandage him, biting down on your tongue in the process when you heard his laughter.

How could one laugh with two bullets embedded in his is another level of crap that you could not comprehend for tonight.

"You despicable green-eyed baby." You finally exploded, "Why the fuck are you laughing? Do you think this is some game, messing with Lotus?" You are tempted to just press on bullet wound when he grinned lazily. Like the fucking cheshire cat.

Suna and the now dead man are members of Lotus, a mafia who runs businesses both legally and illegally downtown. The bar you worked at is not under Lotus but frequented by their members.

He shook his head, the remnants of his grin and playful nature are still there. "Information says you are the type to swear despite your cute innocent face."

The green-eyed man has been doing his homework before deciding to pull off whatever sheenanigans he wanted to at the bar you worked at.

You clenched your teeth, "You think it's funny to destroy a bar like that?"

"Nah. I apologize for my untimely humor." He chuckled, taking the headphone that has been hanging over your neck for some time, "Was the song good though? Light em up, up."

You looked at him incredulously, hundreds of swear words directed at him crossing your mind at the same time.

"Is it a laughing matter? After you kill those people?" You snapped, knowing well you should not have said it without verifying the truth (what if he did not kill anyone, Y/n?) and his smile vanished.

"Not really. I do my best in not feeling personal emotions when I work. Like you."

You purposefully press on the graze on his shoulder and he hissed, half-laughing, "Oh, a sadist." You swear to god this green-eyed man might be the death of you in this mafia world.

"Are you done? Thank you, y/n." He asked before you silently nodded and stood up, going through your small closet and threw him a shirt his size. You bit on your tongue when you knew he knew your name, but you have no idea what his name would be.

Should you ask? No, not knowing this man's name will make it better for you to move on with your life as a college student.

"Stop acting like you know me. Now go back to wherever you came from." You said while reorganizing the first aid kit and clean up the mess.

He huffed, "Cutting me off so soon? You are definitely good in separating your business and personal life, y/n."

You silently stare at him (more likely to death glare) once he finished speaking for a few minutes before sighing, "If you're not getting out, I'll just call the police to tell that I have an important eyewitness."

He chuckled, reaching out to pat your head a few times, "I think I am a masochist." You pursed your lips in fury, this man dared to lay a finger on you without asking for permission?

You could have snapped his fingers, yet the more surprising part is the gesture was uncalled and unexpected. His movements are swift and it took you off guard. He is an assassin after all, you thought.

"Fuck off. Get the fuck out of my room and crawl your heavy ass to treatment."

He dared to pat your head a few more times before waving, disappearing behind the door without a single word. Very unlike him.

Tch, it is not like you know him at all. You sighed when you heard a text notification coming in. You collapse to the floor in exhaustion as you text to reply to your employer.

Your employer: Y/n, I believe you are safe and sound?

Y/n: Yes.

Your employer: And the blood on the floor is not yours?

Y/n: No.

Your employer: The bar is destroyed but at least you are safe.

Y/n: So it was a showdown between Lotus and...?

Your employer: Come to the HQ tomorrow and someone will brief you.

You fell asleep on the floor that night. Surprisingly, it was a dreamless sleep.

---

You sat upright in your seat, the coffee you took this morning has not taken its effect, as you feel sleepy for the 8 am lecture.

After the incident at the bar, you were briefed that it was an internal conflict in Lotus. Something that no one has the right to intervene despite the appearance of a professional assassin. The green-eyed man.

Closing your eyes for a few seconds, you manage to sleep while sitting upright, a skill that you secretly possess when you are tired from mission or training yet still have to attend lectures for the damn attendance.

"Y/n?"

The voice was familiar. Your eyes opened to see the rest of the students turning to look at you while a very familiar face appears with a small devilish smile, too young to be a professor standing at the podium.

"Glad you are awake." His smile sobered you up, "Allow me to start my class then. Welcome to Criminal Behavior 101."

You swear you want to die this instance instead of having to deal with this living epitome of irony, green-eyed crap as the substitute professor at your college. Or maybe, you should stop going to his class. His charm definitely impressed the class, minus you.

After the class ended, he called for you. He smiled brightly, the fucking blinding kind, at you, "Are you not supposed to be surprised? You look like you want to kill me, y/n."

"Yes, I do. Very much." You glared at him, clenching on your tote bag.

He toned down the blinding grin, and gave you a small genuine smile that you could not believe it do exist in him, "Before you kill me, how about we go for a coffee at the cafe you are working at?"

"And what? Destroy my second source of income?"

He held himself for laughing before making a cute pleading face, knowing well if he laugh it would anger you more, "Okay okay, somewhere not your workplace. I really want to know about you more."

You stared at him, wondering what the hell is wrong with his head, "Hey, did you hit your head somewhere and become dumb? Do you want me to really kill you, prof?"

"Aside from looking like a perfect masochist for you, don't you think I am good-looking?"

"YAH! You ARE NOT allowed to bring your flying knives to class!"

"You want to kill me that bad, y/n?!"

"Iris really trained you well-- HEY! I just bought this new tweed jacket just for this class!"

p/s: Iris is a nemesis of Lotus.

[more-than-a-princess]

@awesomeuchuu​ asked:  Liquor ;D

send a word and i will write a drabble or headcanon based on it- letter L - Accepting!

I can only presume the wink is for the reason that Sonia has, at best, a complicated relationship with alcohol. 😅

And of course, the below HC has to do with alcohol, drinking, and particularly drinking to excess. If that isn’t for you, please scroll on by this post!

As a child, Sonia, like all upper class children in Novoselic, was encouraged to appreciate wine. As one of the country’s most important exports, a glass of wine with dinner is pretty much the custom in order to teach children how to cultivate their palates. The drinking age is technically 18 years old there, but the more wealth, power, and resources a child has at their disposal? The more likely the law enforcement is to look the other way if they are drinking or inebriated in public (especially if they have a parent who is 1. an aristocrat, 2. on the Royal Council, or 3. both). Being a child in the Royal Family? Yeah, you’ll get served pretty much anywhere (the key is to do so at the right places. Those known for discretion so you won’t be caught by the press or worse, someone in Society who has a grudge against you). 

That aside, regarding Sonia and her family specifically? One of the requirements of being part of the family is being able to hold your liquor, and in large amounts. Formal meals and state dinners often have cocktails, wine, and after-meal spirits all in the same meal, not to mention the various amount of laws and policies passed in closed-door drawing rooms over a glass of whiskey/port/brandy/etc. In short, it would’ve been a severe slight against Sonia, Novoselic’s first female monarch in centuries, if she could not keep up with the liquor tolerances of other nobles and politicians: mainly men. So she was encouraged to consume alcohol safely: that is, in private, away from the press. Think of it like another Princess lesson. 

The problem is: every member of the Novoselic Royal Family has some sort of coping mechanism to deal with the stress of their titles and being related to one another. Some of them gamble, others do drugs, plenty of them spend lavish amounts of money on objects/property/experiences, and some of them engage in casual sex and/or extramarital affairs. Sonia, to a degree, does the spending bit but more often? She drinks. Talking through their problems and admitting themselves into therapy is seen as a sign of weakness, that they must be above such things: everyone looks to them to lead. So they must suppress their own concerns, struggles, you name it in order to put on the kind and brave faces they need to show the world.

It takes quite a lot of alcohol to get her drunk, too. She’s not a lightweight in the least, especially in a non-canon/non-despair verse. That’s not necessarily a good thing, and it will impact her health later unless she gets proper support and finds other avenues to express her worries and pain. But, she can hold her own with all of the aristocrats and politicians she’s expected to imbibe with, which many find charming: she’s not really an angry or sad person when tipsy or fully intoxicated either, unless she’s alone (or we’re talking post-game canon. More on that shortly!). She’s often a friendly, affectionate person as some subconscious part of herself is insisting she has to be, at least in the company of others. 

But more importantly: especially in a Non-Despair verse, unless she’s truly been provoked or backed into a corner, alcohol isn’t actually Sonia’s first means to cope. It’s usually something relating to her hobbies, or a long, refreshing bath or a beauty treatment, or something delicious to eat. Or simply spending time with a friend/a member of the family she trusts/the person she loves. Drinking to excess, honestly, is Sonia’s last method of coping when she feels like the world is in a hopeless state, or she’s run out of ways to avoid something (her feelings for Wylan were a great example of this, and why she got as smashed as she did). 

But in post-DR2 canon? Drinking is pretty much all Sonia has to cope, at least without having to heavily lean on the others for moral support. She recognizes that everyone is in a horrible, regretful, guilty state for their part in The Tragedy and she doesn’t feel comfortable burdening them further with her worries. Coupled with the fact that returning to Novoselic, while it is in her duty to do so, terrifies her because much of her nation still wants her dead and never believed she was provoked by Junko Enoshima to become a Remnant of Despair...

...yeah. Alcohol is what numbs her pain and gives her a feeling of emptiness, nothingness, the ability to sleep (unless she’s lucky enough to have other medication that encourages her to rest). Being in a constant state of inebriation is what keeps her regrets and shame at bay: at best, it keeps her smiling for the rest of her friends. At the very least, it keeps her from feeling anything at all. And for someone who loved to love and be loved...the fact that Sonia, more often than not, would prefer not to feel a damn thing than actually try to live post-DR2 says just how dependent she is on alcohol to function. This is usually where she starts in this verse if I’m writing in it with another mun, and part of Sonia’s many goals (whether she knows it or not) in post-DR2/Neo World Program is to overcome her dependency on alcohol. 

She spends a lot of time in Titty Typhoon drinking and dreaming, wishing she was stronger. That she didn’t have to feel. That she hadn’t failed everyone as horribly as she did.

[maries-menagerie]

The Oaths We Keep (Din Djarin x GN! Reader)

CW: ANGST! LONGING! DESIRE! Mild sexy mentions mostly longing and anxiety. Quick mention of canon world beverage/liquor.

WC: 900

AN: This is my very first Mando/Pedro piece. I have been rewatching The Mandalorian and it just felt right. Be gentle with me. I hope my fellow Mando/Pedro fans enjoy it! I also do not remember who my 'everything' list is and since this is an entirely new realm for me, I will tag a few mutuals that I know enjoy Mando and my writing. If you want to be tagged in my additional adventures let me know! (I prob will get a tag list for this blog going!)

Read on Ao3!

Main fanfic account: @mariesackler

Din watched the gradual rise and fall of your chest. He ached to touch you. The thought of removing his gloves and smoothing his fingers over your skin caused discomfort in places that had been dormant for as long as he could remember.

It hadn’t taken long for his affection for you to grow. He fought this internal battle at every turn since deciding to escort you back to your home planet. The fact that he had agreed to this arrangement at all was an example enough of how quickly you had captivated him.

Din knew that something was evolving under the surface for you as well. He sensed the changes in you, how your body responded differently when his attention was concentrated on you, the hitch in your tone when you addressed him late at night after a few too many mugs of Ne'tra gal.

This wasn’t the first time he garnered this type of attention before but never with this intention. Mostly, would-be suitors were drawn in by the mystery of the order; begging to see what was under the helmet.

Din would patiently shut them down and exit. But he couldn’t always escape the desperate need for touch. The memories of those rare moments of weakness brought a rush of warmth throughout his body. These instances were fleeting and meaningless and much to his bedmate’s disappointment, the helmet never came off.

There had been many times throughout his life as a Mandalorian when he questioned his choices. But you, he never could have prepared for. Your easy smile and the sound of your laugh as you played with the child.

You instantly loved the tiny green babe, insisting on holding him in your arms rather than letting him ride in his hovering pram. The child accepted and held to you as if you had always been there all along.

Din stood and exhaled slowly, moving his way out into the cool night air. He needed to pull himself together. Walking a few steps away from the ship, he dropped to the ground, pulling off his helmet. Running his hand through his matted hair, he focused on the sound of his breathing.

He wasn’t naive to the rituals of romance. Din had witnessed his fair share of coupling from the shadows of the countless cantinas he had squatted in over the years. It wasn’t in the cards for him.

He had accepted that in his younger days. But this was new, terrifying, and all-devouring. He trusted you, let you inside. You listened to him talk of bitter memories that tormented him over the years. You laughed at his horrible quips and your company brought him comfort that he hadn’t known.

He wished to fall into your arms, and let you consume him. Have you cradle his head to your bare breast and allow your divine legs to envelop him; hold him.

He yearned to pour every ounce of himself into you, let you see behind the mask. Make you understand what you did to him physically, emotionally. He longed to memorize the curves of your body and savor the taste of you on his lips. Hear you moan his name. Din shuddered at the thoughts that raced in his mind.

Many moments passed with Din on his knees, silently begging, berating himself to let this go. Your voice shattered the cycling turmoil. Din froze. You stood mere inches from his crouched form.

Worried, when you woke to find him missing. You discovered his helmet was off, the closer you got to him. Knowing that it was against his order, you respectfully kept your distance despite the desire to see his face roaring through your veins.

“Is everything okay?” You questioned your eyes quickly scanning the surroundings. There appeared to be no danger in sight. Din cleared his throat, painfully aware of how easily he could turn and face you.

He could tell you how the crushing weight in his chest was becoming unbearable the closer you got to your final home destination. The notion of never seeing you again made him want to give up everything he had believed in, break the oath and promise he had made.

Din bent and picked up his helmet. His thumb stroked the shining Beskar steel. Clearing his throat, he placed his helmet back over his head. Turning, he nodded.

“Everything is fine. Just needed some air.” He breathed motioning you back towards the ship. You followed his request knowing that something had transpired in those moments, he had spent alone. You restrained yourself from grabbing his hand. Instinctively you wished to comfort him in his apparent distress.

There were so many things you dreamed to tell him but the words wouldn’t come. You knew that the man that strode beside you was first and foremost a Mandalorian.

Din stopped and allowed you to go ahead of him into the ship. He kept his distance as you checked on the child before moving towards the nest you made of blankets. He couldn’t look at you, not right now.

Not when he was so weakened and ready to leave behind everything that ever mattered to him. Mumbling a ‘sleep well’ Din huddled himself in the cockpit. He would finish out this mission like he promised he would. He would deliver you home.

This is the way.

A few friends: @millenialcatlady @hopeamarsu @pumpkin-stars @paper-n-ashes @mylifeisactuallyamess @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @butyoudidthis4what

Thank you for reading!

If you enjoy my stories, let me know! My Inbox is open, and I welcome comments! Please reblog if you fancy sharing this piece.

[teenandbeyond]

Levi Ackerman x M.Reader

Edit: This can honestly be read as Gender Neutral I didn't really use he/him in this. Originally this was a female reader, but I realized Fem.Reader was kind of dominating my one-shots a little, so I changed it, I'll post a FemxLevi if y'all want, no problem (Female is a little easier to write, anyway), I'll just write a different scenario.

Edit 2: Dom. Fem Reader x Levi is written after all this time. Here you go if you're interested! Anatomy is hardly mentioned.

Levi is one of the best characters of this show other than Armin, Hange, Sasha, Jean, Connie, and Erwin. So I'm doing it.

Part 2. Part 3

⚔Hero⚔ (AOT or SNK)

Warnings: Lime-y, slight angst, cute?, Cursing, MxM relationship, non-canon but more towards the end of the series, the height difference has more of a gap than my grades

Somehow you got Levi as a boyfriend, you've started to slowly reconnect him to his emotions, but there's still something missing.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

"Levi, don't doze off in the chair again," you warned while writing a shopping list.

"Mm..."

"You're dozing off, aren't you?"

"..."

"Levi, we have a fucking bed for a reason, please use it--"

He dozed off in the chair.

You sighed, a fond smile taking over your face as you carried him to the bed, placing a cover over him.

"Hopefully he doesn't wake up before I get back," you gently kissed his forehead, grabbed your shopping list, and left the house.

Sometimes you still weren't used to the different environment, you were born in Wall Sina, but as you grew older, you realized you didn't fit in there. The first time you saw someone work hard was when you met a non-corrupt military officer, he worked hard to protect those higher up. You wanted that, to work hard for something, rather than sit around and get served.

When you were 19, you ran away to wall Rose, with only a fat satchel of coins on your hip. You've been working ever since, only more recently, five years ago, you became a teashop owner, you can guess that's how you and Levi met.

You went to the stands that had what you needed. Crossing off each thing accordingly.

1. Brooms (But not with weak straw, Levi broke the brush part from sweeping too hard.)

2. Flowers for the shop

3. Levi's tea

4. That one cleaning product Levi loves more than me

5. Sugar

6. Liquor

You made the journey back home, easily carrying your items, due to much of your life working hard, you'd gained quite a bit of muscle.

"Hey, look who went shopping."

You peeked around your stuffed bag, a group of three men looking at you.

Ah, those were the guys who tried to rob you last week, but Levi scared them away.

"No 'humanity's strongest soldier' to protect you now, huh?"

You sighed, "All of us are middle-class, why are you trying to steal from me?"

"More money, duh-"

"Shut up!"

You rolled your eyes, deciding you weren't going to deal with this, and started to walk around them.

"Hey! Don't ignore us like that, you bastard!"

The 'leader' made you drop your items, unlike the day they first saw you, your intimidating physique was more obvious. You glared.

They made me drop Levi's things, you could care less about your alcohol and flowers at the moment.

"I-I..ahem. I want you to give us all the money on you!"

You raised a brow, crossing your arms, "I went shopping, idiot. Why would I have money left on me to give you?"

When going shopping, you only take enough money for the items plus a little extra just in case. You wouldn't tell them about the extra, of course.

"Take his stuff then, boys."

"Boss, he's taller than us..."

"And bigger than he was last time..."

"Not by much! Just get--"

"This is so unnecessary..."

You turned around, your dark aura instantly brightening like a puppy greeting its owner, "Levi!"

The men paled, "I-it's Levi...humanity's strongest soldier!"

Levi narrowed his still sleepy eyes, "Wait, don't tell me it's the same brats from before."

You crossed your arms with a pout, "Yeah, they were bullying me again."

"No!"

The 'boss' hurriedly organized the shopping items at your feet and nervously smiled, "We were just...uh...helping him."

"Yeah! Nothing else!"

"I swear, if you mess with [Name] again, I will break--"

"We won't!"

They ran off.

Levi blinked, before wheeling over to you in his wheelchair.

"Sorry, Levi, did we wake you?"

"Yes, I saw you out the window," Levi went to grab the brooms.

You kissed the top of his head, "Nope, you're not carrying anything, I'll meet you inside."

He listened and went back into the house with a cute yawn only you got to see.

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

After putting everything up in their proper places, you made Levi some tea and brought it to him after sitting him on the couch.

Although he tried to play it off, his eyes were eager, he never really got used to drinking tea with sugar. This is why he loved you, he hadn't even noticed he was out of tea until you told him you'd gotten more.

You rested your head next to his leg, smiling up at him.

He glanced at you, before sipping his tea, "Why do you have that stupidly cute smile on your face, [Name]?"

"Because I love you, Levi."

"...Mm."

You snickered to yourself, he still tried to play off when he got flustered.

"And I love when you're happy, it makes me happy."

"I...love you, too."

Levi also loved that bright smile that always appeared on your face when he said these three words, although you had been dating for four years, he hadn't actually said those words back until you were 3 years in. But if he'd know back then that he'd get a smile like that for saying them, he would've sooner.

"You saved me today, my hero."

"Please, you could've easily handled them yourself."

You nuzzled into his stomach, "Yeah, but it was cuter for you to stand up for me. I'll beat them up next time."

"There better not be a next time, they're fucking irritating," Levi took another sip.

You laughed.

Levi loved that about you too, your laughter, and he loved that he could so easily bring that out of you, joy.

You met eyes as his lips broke away from the cup, "Levi?"

"What, brat?"

You scoff, "I'm not that much younger than you--I just wanted to remind you of how beautiful you are."

"[Name]--"

"You are--"

"I only have one eye, I'm missing two fingers on one hand, and my leg--"

You sat up, "You should know by now that means nothing to me, you're still--"

"--a burden. I'm a burden to you."

Your eyes widened at this claim...Levi really thinks that, that he's a burden?

"Levi..."

"Be realistic here, [Name], if you want to go anywhere with me, you have to push me in a wheelchair. You had to make a ramp for me. You have to carry me everywhere. I'm a burden."

"Levi...Levi, no," you placed your hands on his cheeks, "You keep saying 'have' or 'had'...I do these things because I want to, not because you're a burden or an obligation. I want to be with you, it doesn't matter if you're in a wheelchair or injured, if I want you, those parts come in the package. I know you like independence, but Levi, I love taking care of you, it's not a burden to me, I love you."

"We can't do normal couple things--"

You smiled and kissed his nose, "We're far from normal people. Normal is boring anyway."

"I can't do anything for you--"

"You always make me happy, that's enough, Levi. Trust me."

He looked away as you kissed his brow, "I'm practically emotionally dead--"

"Well, that's what you have me for, to revive those emotions in you."

"..."

You frowned, you gently wiped away the beginnings of tears, you wouldn't speak of it though, "Have you really been thinking this way all this time? You've been keeping this just bottled up?"

His silence answered it for you, you ran a hand through his hair, "Oh, Levi. I'm so sorry I didn't notice sooner."

"You're insane, [Name] [Last Name]."

"How so?"

"Because you're crazy enough to think I'm...beautiful."

"I'll be crazy then. I might not convince you to feel that way, but, damn it, Levi, you're so indescribably beautiful," you kissed behind his ear.

He found himself shivering as your breath tickled his neck.

You quietly chuckled, "You're so cute."

"That's not fair..." Levi muttered to himself.

You pulled away, "Hm? What's not fair?"

How easily you can rile his virgin-ass up. He's already sexually frustrated as is.

Why hadn't you had sex? Well, first you had to get past Levi's wall. Then you weren't really focused on that, you just liked being with him, sex wasn't a must for you. It didn't matter much to Levi much either, until recently...he craved...to be...closer.

But he couldn't muster up the bravery to tell you. Yes, Levi Ackerman, 'humanity's strongest soldier', who's fought and killed titans, lost many, lost parts of his body...can't ask if you can go to the next step. He didn't even know if he could do those things with you.

"Levi?"

"What...what makes me beautiful to you?"

You smiled, "How strong you are, mentally, physically, emotionally. You've been through so much, but you're still here...Your depth, your intelligence, your protective nature. And even the times you're just, Levi and break down, you're no less beautiful to me," you gave a soft laugh, "Man, that's not an easy question Levi, it's hard to name specific things that make you beautiful when there's so much about you that makes you so...gorgeous to me. We'd be here all day, but I don't mind if--"

"No thanks, you talk enough."

"I think that makes you beautiful too, you don't mince words."

Levi mustered up the courage to look you in the eyes and say, "Then why haven't you touched me?"

You were confused, "Huh? What do you mean? I always kiss you, hold your hands, hug you, cuddle,--well, sometimes, you're still too cool for those at times--"

"I mean...more...intimately..."

You paused, taking a second before realizing what he was implying.

"Oh...OH! Well, sex isn't a requirement in a relationship for me, I was more focused on the other things in a relationship, especially since you didn't seem interested...at least...I thought you didn't."

His cheeks tinted pink, "I don't think I could anyway. I'm disabled."

"And?"

"What do you mean, 'and?', my legs don't function normally."

You couldn't help but laugh, before cutting yourself off, "I'm not laughing at you, I'm sorry, it's just...Levi, just because you can't use your legs, doesn't mean we can't have sex. That's not a problem."

"...Oh."

"Is that something you still want to try, now that you know you still can?"

He bit his lip, "I've never..."

You assured him, "You don't have to rush and make a choice now. We could always talk about it another day, I'm not going anywhere--"

"I want to. But I'm not good at initiating that type of thing."

"You don't have to."

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡.

"[N-name]!" Levi shuddered as you kissed down his shoulder, his shirt loosely hanging off of it.

"Yes, Levi?"

"M-ah~"

You chuckled at his reaction to what you'd just tried. You honestly hadn't expected him to be this submissive, but at the same time, you could see why. Either way, you didn't mind.

"Levi, take off your shirt for me."

He did without hesitation.

"You know, you look beautiful like this."

His face was red, his breathing already heavy, his eye looked needy.

You kissed both his eyelids, "Your eyes," you kissed the end of the scar that ended near his lips, "This scar," you grabbed his wounded hand, kissing each knuckle, making eye contact, "And even this hand. Where you see flaws, I see beauty, Levi."

Fuck, he loved you. His hero, saving him from himself.

"I love your legs too," you moved lower, your knees on the ground, "Want me to show you?"

[rozcdust]

She’s so mean

Pairing: Kokonoi Hajime x f!reader

Genre: Crack, SMAU, a lil angst

Word count: 800ish

Warnings: Canon divergent, profanity, ooc, substance abuse, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of a toxic relationship, mentions of drowning, murder, the reader is tired and a bitch

pt. 1 | previous | pt. 16 | next

Baji was glad he got up for a glass of water, else he wouldn’t be able to hear the soft sniffling coming out of your room.

Worried, but almost certain he already knew what was wrong, he tiptoed towards your door.

Gently opening it just enough to peek in, he found you sitting on the ground, face lit up by a small nighttime lamp on your nightstand, fingers holding a cigarette wrapped around a liquor bottle.

“You promised me you won’t drink yourself to sleep anymore.”

“It’s not drinking myself to sleep if I don’t plan to sleep again.”

Baji sighed, closing the door of your room behind me as he plopped down next to you, taking the liquor bottle to take a swig out of it.

You raised an eyebrow, wiping tears off your face as a small grin appeared.

“Hypocritical much, Kei?”

He shot you a look, a slight smile appearing on his face.

“Not at all.”

You offered him a cigarette, which he accepted.

“Nightmares again?” He questioned as he lit it up, turning towards you.

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.” He handed you the bottle, letting you take a sip before screwing the cap back on.

“It’s the same old every time.”

“Tell me anyway.”

You sighed, rubbing your eyes.

He always did this. Somehow, he was up and by your side every time you had the nightmare, asking you to tell him anyway. You were certain that listening to the same story hurt him more than it helped you, but he refused to leave until he knew you were done.

“It started with a fight. I don’t even know what the fuck it was about, fuck, I don’t even remember anymore,” You took a deep drag of your cigarette, annoyed at the way your fingers are shaking, “I just know he’s angry, and he’s yelling. I’m yelling too. It gets physical. I don’t know what happened in between. I just know he’s holding my head down in the kitchen sink.”

Keisuke said nothing as you continued.

“I don’t know how I got away from him, all I know is that I’m pushing him off me and his head hits a corner and he’s bleeding and I- I just fucking watch and feel nothing.”

Keisuke took a deep breath.

“Do you want comfort, advice or for me to leave?”

You let out a bitter laugh.

“I just want to fucking sleep, Kei, I just wanna sleep.”

He stood up, stretching like a cat as he did so, taking a step towards your window to open it and replace the cigarette smoke in your room with fresh air.

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you when I saw the signs.” He broke the silence, leaning his elbows on the window sill.

You shook your head even if you knew he couldn’t see.

“You were busy with your shop and setting things up for Tora’s release, and I was pushing you away every chance I got. It is no one’s fault but his. What happened, happened.”

“It’s not that easy y/n. It affected you, deeply, you just hate to admit it.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“You know it, y/n. That fucker still has a grasp on you, whether you like it or not.”

“He doesn’t.”

“He manipulated you fucking textbook style. And you didn’t spend even a day trying to get over what happened.”

“It was okay.”

“He almost killed you.”

“So I killed him.”

Anger burned inside his throat, he turned to glare at you, finding you to already be looking up at him from the floor, face blank.

It reminded him of that evening too much.

A phone call at 11 p.m. Your contact name on his screen surprised him, you didn’t really call at all during that time, he got used to not hearing from you for weeks.

He picked up and the first thing he heard was sobs.

He was the first person to walk into the apartment and find you sitting on the kitchen floor, water dripping down your hair and face, staring blankly at your boyfriend bleeding out on the kitchen floor.

He was the one to call an ambulance. He was the one to call the police. He stood pacing in front of a police station as you were questioned. He was the one who picked up your things from the apartment and helped you move in with him and Chifuyu and Tora.

He will always be the one to slap you into reality.

“Killing an abuser is barely murder at all. It was self defense.”

“I don’t feel guilty about it Kei.”

“I know you don’t. But the effects of his manipulation are still there.”

You said nothing, choosing to change the topic.

“A guy asked me out for a date today. I said yes.” You finally got out, unscrewing the bottle to take another swing.

Baji turned towards you, face softening.

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t know.”

“If you agreed to a date, you must like him at least a little. Give him a chance before ripping his heart out and stomping on it.” He teased, walking up to stand in front of you as he ruffled your hair.

You pouted, crossing your arms over your chest, and he let out a chuckle, picking you up under the arms, making you let out a yelp, he dropped you onto your bed, pulling the blanket over you.

“If you’ll have a nightmare again, you know where to find me. Fuyu and Tora won’t mind if you wake them up too.”

You nodded as he planted a soft kiss on top of your forehead.

“Sleep well, kid.”

Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @babu-haitani @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @lagrimasdeglitter @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @hana-patata @bontenacious @crybabylisa @spookydraken @rorobaijifuyu @yukihime-mikeys-girl @toobsessedsstuff @sammcaav222 @emilywaters @agoddess-inashell @levistiddies @t04dxm @qualitygiantshoepsychic @chilledraft @bontensbabygirl @brokencoinlocker @somniari-94 @yujibhabie @inumaki-s-onigiri @wakasagurl @sup-zfam @nqctre @chronic-claire-universe @rozewayne2005 @bxnten @graythecoffeebean @hanmascult @sanzuswh0re @yuushs @little-crow @halcyondaisy @st4rryhae @gvancagamer @passionateuchiha @haikyuu-simps-assemble @hecatve @notsodeadgirlwalking @royal-shinigami

a/n: moving along boys, moving aloooooongggggggg

[valxeren]

𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐢𝐠

pairing: dilf jean kirstein x female bodied reader

content warnings: MINOR MANGA SPOILERS, smut (17+ only please), alcohol consumption, mentions of pregnancy, mention of bondage, unprotected sex, breeding kink, slight masochism, daddy kink, creampie, vaginal fingering

word count: 7.3k

summary: jean’s dream to have a comfy life in the interior came true, and he couldn’t be happier. that is until his dream gets bigger.

notes: this is canon divergence; it takes place after season 3 ends, but season 4 doesn’t happen. there is a time skip though (a bigger one, so like the scouts are in their late 20s maybe?). also i hc that jean is rlly good at cooking??? i cant explain it but i just feel like he is

the sun shone high above the horizon in paradis. laughter from children playing in the streets could be heard along with the usual bustle of street vendors. horse hooves clacked against the cobblestone roads below.

jean sat on his balcony with a glass of fine liquor in his hand and his body tucked into the soft cushion of a chair. the wind blew in his sandy brown hair as he raised the glass to his lips, letting the liquid tingle his taste buds.

he could get used to this lifestyle.

in fact, he had already gotten quite used to it. the titans had been driven to extinction years ago, and the threat of war no longer loomed over the island of paradis, the place he was glad to call “home.”

after years of brutal fighting, he had decided it was time for a break. one night, he agreed to go out to a bar with the rest of the scouts. although he certainly expected to get wasted, he did not expect to see the love of his life.

jean swears it was love at first sight. the way the dim lights of the tavern glowed on your face instantly caught his attention, and he couldn’t ignore the way your eyes shone. of course, he flirted with you a little bit and he couldn’t help but feel good whenever he made you smile; he said it was enough to power a thousand suns.

you eventually caved in to him. it wasn’t hard; his charming personality (and his good looks) drew you in. you two got close, and soon enough he was down on one knee and sliding a ring onto your finger.

he settled down with you in the center district of mitras, far away from his hometown of trost. sometimes he found himself feeling a little homesick, though he’d never admit it. everything he wanted, everything he dreamed for, was right here.

when your first child was born, jean was overjoyed. you gave him the honor of naming your son; he chose the name “marco” to pay tribute to his late best friend back in the day.

little marco was falling asleep in your arms as you held him. he was tired after a long morning of playing with the toys that queen historia had gifted him. she was more than thrilled to hear that you were having a baby, so she found herself visiting you often during your pregnancy.

you were happy. happy to be with jean, happy to have a kid with him. you don’t know what your life would be like without him by your side at this moment. he stuck with you through thick and thin, and you knew you had each other’s backs.

what you didn’t know is that jean wants more kids. he was perfectly fine with having just one for now, but he loves the idea of you bearing his children. he loves the image of you being pregnant and he loves the thought of having taking care of you, not that he doesn’t already. he loves you so much that he wants to have a bigger family with you.

his dream was coming true. he remembered telling his friends back in the training corps that he was going to live comfortably in the interior, that he was going to have a beautiful wife and many kids. he was almost there; he was just afraid to see how’d you react.

jean’s heart swelled at the sight of you holding your child. with a content sigh leaving his lips, he finished his liquor down to the last drop. the chair creaked as he stood up, and he pulled the glass sliding door to the side.

“how’s my baby?” jean asked once he stepped inside. he slid the door shut behind him and set the empty glass on the counter before walking up to you.

“he’s fine,” you told him. marco snuggled up against your chest and you smiled at him. he looked so much like jean.

“no, i meant you. how are you, darling?” he chuckled and pressed a kiss to your temple. the hair of his beard pricked against your skin, causing you to pull your head back.

“good, as always. it’s such a nice day outside, isn’t it?” you hummed while rocking marco in your arms. the sunlight streaming through the window hit the glass perfectly, refracting the light across the counter and forming a small rainbow.

jean looked down at you and smiled. “it’s perfect.”

he brought one of his long fingers down to marco and fit it in his tiny palm. marco wrapped his hand around it while still sleeping, and jean practically melted.

“why don’t we go put marco down?” jean suggested. you agreed and you walked down the hallway before stopping in front of one of the doors. jean stepped in front of you and pushed the door to marco’s room open.

you walked in and went over to the wooden crib that was placed against the wall. reaching in, you gently placed marco down and draped a thin blanket over his small figure.

“let’s read him a story!” you excitedly whispered. you looked through the many children’s books displayed on the shelf before pulling one out and handing it to jean.

“y/n, he’s already asleep. there’s no point,” he whispered back. as much as he would love to read to his son right now, he had other things in mind.

jean could never get sick of the sight of you taking care of your child. he knew that it tired you out, so he’d help out as much as he could. but the thought of you and him taking care of multiple children at once excited him.

“oh, i guess i’ll read to him alone then,” he could sense a hint of disappointment hidden in your voice, and he felt a little bit guilty. you took the book back and nestled yourself in the rocking chair that was next to the crib. the sound of your soft, sweet voice filled the room as you began reading out loud. it made jean feel all fuzzy inside.

jean retreated back into the kitchen and washed the glass. he set it down on the counter for it to dry, and he wiped his hands on a towel before settling down on the living room couch. he sat with his arms spread on the backrest behind him and his face looking towards the ceiling. there was nowhere else he’d rather be right now.

as counterintuitive as it seemed, sometimes jean actually missed the days he spent in the survey corps. he didn’t officially leave; he’d go back in a heartbeat if the time ever came around. it’s just that he missed the people he formed bonds with over the years.

he began to reminisce about his time in training and with the scouts. his mind wandered around everything from the first mission in trost to the expeditions outside the walls. he smiled to himself, knowing that he no longer had to face any of those terrors anytime soon.

he then started to think of all his comrades—no, his friends. how were connie and sasha doing? he hasn’t talked to them in a while; it’d be in his best interest to go out and see them. he remembered mikasa telling him that she and eren were planning to move to the mountains together, away from the city life. he wondered how that worked out and if they were alright. as for armin… he’s probably still working with hange and captain levi.

———

the air had gotten significantly cooler now that the sun was starting to set. jean had gone out again to get some fresh ingredients so he could start making dinner.

he stopped at a stall where a vendor was selling tomatoes. he carefully inspected them, looking for the biggest and reddest ones that would be perfect for his pasta sauce.

after making his selection, jean handed the vendor a couple of coins before placing the tomatoes in his basket. he continued walking down the market street, occasionally stopping to greet the little kids that recognized him as one of “eldia’s heroes” after retaking wall maria.

“oi, jean!” he heard someone call out from behind him. upon seeing who it was, his grin widened and the spark in his eyes reignited.

it was such a coincidence how he happened to run into both connie and sasha at the market. the girl was frantically waving her arms around while running towards jean. she flung her arms around his shoulders, nearly knocking him off of his feet.

“what are you guys doing here?” jean asked in disbelief. he was shocked to see that they traveled all the way from wall rose to the capital.

“we were paying historia a visit! we were gonna come by your place, but it lasted longer than we expected,” sasha explained. she eyed the food that jean had in his basket before looking back up at him.

“we should go out again some day, you know. maybe go back to the bar,” connie proposed while pulling jean into a hug. “we miss seeing you around.”

“i miss you guys, too. everything’s just been so hectic ever since marco was born,” jean sighed. as much as he wanted to continue talking to his friends, he knew he had to return home soon. he pictured you waiting for him back home, wondering what was taking him so long.

“you have to let us see him again,” sasha pleaded. she tugged on the sleeves of jean’s shirt and looked at him with wide eyes.

“after what happened last time? no way,” jean joked. he recalled the one time he let sasha and connie look after marco. he had gone out with you for nearly a whole day, so he had them take care of him while you two were gone.

when you returned, there was baby food smeared all over little marco’s face, and all of his toys were scattered around the living room. jean scolded his two friends and rushed to clean up the mess they made.

“ah well, let us know when you’re planning to have another one,” connie smiled, snapping jean out of his thoughts. “we hope to see you again soon, jean.”

jean engulfed both of them in a giant hug and held onto them tightly. he didn’t want to see them go so soon. it pained him to know that he may not see them again for a while since communication was so limited.

he watched as they turned around and started walking down the street. he kept his eyes on them as their figures became smaller and smaller in the distance until eventually, they disappeared into the crowd.

another one, he thought. hopefully you’d be able to give him another child soon.

the sun was just starting to vanish below the horizon when jean came home. the last gleams of golden light were quickly fading into the darkness. he saw you laying down on the couch, and he greeted you with a kiss.

“what took you so long?” you complained, just as he had expected. you crossed your arms over your chest as he went to the kitchen.

“i bumped into sasha and connie at the market. i thought i’d talk to them for a bit,” he said while taking the produce out of his basket. he turned on the faucet and started to thoroughly rinse them.

“oh. is anything new with them?” you asked. you knew that jean was very close to them, so your irritation slowly dissipated.

jean paused his movements for a second after realizing that he didn’t even get to fully catch up with them. he cursed at himself as he pulled out a cutting board from one of the cabinets. “i didn’t get to ask. connie said to tell them when we have another one, though.”

you faced him and raised a brow in confusion, expecting him to continue speaking. “another… what?”

he finished chopping up the vegetables before setting the knife down and staring at you. his brown eyes pierced through yours with an expression that was almost unreadable.

“another baby.”

oh. neither you nor jean had mentioned wanting more kids. you weren’t opposed to the idea; in fact, the thought has crossed your mind more than once. it was already a hassle to look after marco, so could the both of you really be able to handle another kid.

some part of you was screaming yes, i want to grow my family with jean. you thought about the two of you dealing with your pregnancy again and having to look after two babies. maybe this time, you’d have a little girl to call yours and cradle in your arms.

you weighed out the pros and cons of raising another child; in the end, the pros outweighed the cons. you love jean, and that was no surprise. if he wanted another child with you, you’d be more than happy to make his dream come true.

you watched as jean threw the vegetables into a pot, along with some other ingredients. he got out another pot and filled it with water before putting it on the stove to boil.

“do you want another baby?” you walked up to your husband and wrapped your arms around his waist. he felt the warmth of your body against his and fought the urge to bend you over and take you on the counter.

“of course i do,” he replied with no hesitation. he tried to not come off as too excited, but the opportunity was right there. he shouldn’t feel embarrassed for wanting more kids.

as he was pouring a box of pasta into the boiling water, his mind started to cloud over with the thought of him fucking you real good and filling you up until you begged him to stop. he could practically hear your whimpers and moans in his mind, and it was driving him crazy.

you noticed that his grip on the wooden spoon loosened, so you took it into your own hand and stirred the contents of the pot. the tomatoes were starting to get mushier, and the strong scent floated in the air.

“do you want another baby?” he reflected the question back to you. your touch still lingered on his skin, and he felt like he was on fire.

“yeah, since you want one too,” you shrugged your shoulders. “i’m down.”

he wrapped his hand around your wrist, forcing you to stop the stirring motion of your arm. “this isn’t about what i want, y/n. i’m asking if you want one, regardless of what i think.”

this was one of the many things you love about your husband. he was always so considerate, and he always took into account the thoughts of other people. jean truly cares for everyone he loves, and nothing would be able to change that.

when he met you, there was a newfound sense of overprotectiveness within himself. it was different than the way he was protective of his friends like sasha or even eren. he’d always make sure you were okay; if you weren’t, he’d find a way to cheer you up. all of your problems became his problems; if you had to suffer, then he’d rather suffer with you than leave you to your own devices.

he never once thought for himself whenever it came to matters that concerned the both of you. you would always be on his mind whenever he had to make a tough decision, and he did everything for you out of love.

“i want to have another child with you,” you took your eyes off of the stove and looked up at jean. his once bright eyes were now darkened with lust, though he was glad to hear that you were on the same page as him. maybe his dream wouldn’t be crushed after all.

he was leaning in to kiss you, but the sound of your baby crying in the other room caused him to stop. a little sigh left your lips as jean took the spoon from you so you could see what happened.

down the hallway, you pushed open the door to marco’s room. his tiny hands grabbed onto the railing of the crib while he cried his eyes out.

“shh, it’s okay. mommy’s here,” you cooed as you reached into the crib to lift him into your arms. you soothed a hand down his back and nestled his head into your chest to calm him down. his crying had quieted down, but the occasional sniffle and hiccup was still there.

you walked back into the kitchen with him in your arms and struggled to open the pantry to get some baby food. jean noticed this and stepped away from the stove to help you. he reached up and grabbed one of the many small jars of baby food and handed one to you.

you took it from him before going to put marco in his high chair. he was reaching for the food, so you hurriedly unscrewed the lid and began to feed him.

“dinner will be ready soon, my love,” jean called out to you. outside, you could hear the joyous laughter of the drunkards on the street. ever since the threat of titans was eliminated, the curfew on the island had been lifted. it took a while to get used to all the celebrations you heard late at night and in the early hours of the morning.

you gazed outside the window which offered a nice view of the royal castle. the moon was steadily rising higher into the night sky, and the stars were becoming more visible in the absence of light.

meanwhile, jean finished cooking and began to carefully plate your food. he dropped a pile of the perfectly cooked pasta onto the ceramic dish before pouring a ladle full of the sauce on top. he then called you over to the table as he was setting the plates down, so you took marco out of his chair and let him crawl around the living room.

“what would you like to drink?” he asked as he went over to the wine rack. he pulled out one of the bottles and inspected the label before putting it back and choosing a different one. content with his decision, he returned to the table with the bottle and a glass in hand.

“i’ll just have some water,” you watched as he uncorked the bottle and tipped it over, letting the deep red liquid splash and swirl in the glass. he left the table again to put the wine back and to pour you a glass of water.

there was an explosion of flavors in your mouth as you took your first bite of the meal your husband prepared. the sauce was rich and creamy, and it had a tangy taste.

“this is delicious,” you practically moaned after you swallowed the mouthful of food. you dug your fork into the pasta again and shoveled another bite into your mouth.

you were glad that you married jean. not only because of his loving and caring nature, but also because he proved himself useful around the house. he didn’t sit back and make you do all the work; in fact, he would often make you relax while he did everything. he volunteered to cook a lot, and you didn’t complain. you weren’t necessarily bad at cooking, but everything that jean made just tasted a hundred times better.

“you’ve got a little something here babe,” he swiped a thumb over the corner of his mouth a couple times, telling you where to wipe yourself clean. you took your handkerchief and blotted at your lips before setting it down and continuing to eat.

jean continued to talk to you throughout the meal about anything and everything that came to mind. the conversation topics ranged from things concerning the future of paradis to places he wanted to take you and marco to. it went on long after your plates had been cleared, long after jean had emptied his wine glass.

you stood up and tried to stack his plate atop yours, but he stopped you; he insisted that you should put marco to bed while he washed the dishes and cleaned around the dining table.

you lifted marco into your arms one last time for the night and brought him over to where jean stood at the sink.

“good night, little one,” jean said before pressing a kiss to his son’s forehead. “tomorrow is a new day with you.”

he kissed you as well before you returned to marco’s room. after placing him in the crib, you went to draw his curtains close. the velvety fabric rippled down as you untied the cord that kept them to the side, encasing the room in a blanket of darkness.

“good night, marco. i love you,” you whispered as you peered into his crib one last time. he was already fast asleep, so you quietly crept out of his room. you watched as the sliver of light from the hallway gradually got smaller until the door was completely shut.

jean was finishing up with the dishes, washing the last of the utensils. as he was rinsing them of the soapy suds, you once again wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your head against his back.

“i love you,” you said. no matter how many times you said those three little words to him, they always sent tingles down his spine. he could never get tired of the way it sounded coming out from your lips. it was like his favorite song that he’d play on repeat.

after drying his hands on a towel, he placed his hands on top of yours. “i love you more.”

jean turned around and leaned against the counter. he stared into your eyes as he brought a hand to your chin; his tender touch sent sparks throughout your body. he swore he saw the entire universe and so much more in your irises.

it was one of his favorite things about you. he could spend days lost in your eyes, he loved how expressive they were. he noticed every little detail about them; how they’d gleam he whenever you talked about something you were interested, how they would look dull if you were feeling down, and especially how your pupils would grow wide whenever you admired him. he loved all of it.

his lips finally connected to yours, and you could taste the hint of sweetness of the wine on his lips. his hands found your hips, and he pulled you closer to him, deepening the kiss. although he had just eaten, he was still hungry, this time for you.

it was the kind of hunger that could only be satiated by you. he only craved you, your love, your touch. there was no one else on his mind when it came to these kinds of things, only you.

he pulled away, lightly panting to catch his breath. for the second time that night, his eyes darkened like the sky before a storm. in a way, a storm was brewing within him, but you were prepared for what was coming.

without a word, jean shut off the kitchen lights and pulled you into your moonlit bedroom. he pressed you against the door after shutting it, and captivated you in another kiss.

you slung your arms behind jean’s neck at the same time he squeezed your ass, causing you to openly moan into the kiss and allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. his hands traveled further south until they reached the back of your knees.

“jump,” he simply muttered, and you did as you were told. he hoisted you up and carried you over to the bed, setting you down gently as if you were a piece of fine china he was too scared to break. the silk sheets felt cool against your burning skin.

you sat up and pulled him down by the collar of his shirt, causing him to crash on top of you. you kissed him with so much passion, and you let your hands wander over the thin fabric of his shirt.

“patience, love,” he chuckled before sitting back up. he started to unbutton his shirt so agonizingly slow, just to tease you. he shrugged his shirt off of his shoulders, letting the fabric fall to the floor and revealing his toned yet scarred torso from years of seemingly endless training and fighting.

jean wasn’t insecure about his body. in fact, he was quite proud to have those healed wounds on his skin. it was a reminder of how he endured the toughest challenges and how he always pushed himself to the limit.

he helped you push the sleeves of your dress off of your shoulders before tugging the whole thing down your body and past your ankles. he discarded it on the floor along with his shirt, and he admired the way you were splayed out on the bed for him.

he felt his cock get harder at the sight of your tits nearly spilling out of your bra. what drove him even crazier was the way your fingertips ghosted over your clothed clit, desperate to feel some friction.

jean pulled you to the edge of the bed and let your legs dangle off of the side. he crouched on the floor beneath you and trailed kisses all the way up to your hips, alternating between both legs.

he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, slowly dragging the damp fabric down your legs. his mouth began to salivate at the sight of you all wet and ready to take him.

“you’re so pretty,” he commented as he traced a finger across your wet folds. your breathing started to get heavier, and he finally inserted a finger into you.

it had been a while since you and jean got this intimate. with the both of you spending most of your time either working or looking after marco, you didn’t get a lot of alone time together. the few times you were alone with him was usually spent resting and cleaning around the house, much like today.

but today was different. jean finally told you that he was ready to have another kid, and you wondered how long he had thought about it. he seemed too eager, almost desperate, when he brought it up in your earlier conversation.

jean had a mission tonight. that mission was to make sure he bred you right, and his driving force was that he wants more kids. nothing was going to steer him away from that path. not now, not anytime soon.

you clasped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to conceal the moans that escape your mouth. jean slipped in another one of his long fingers, and he curled them upwards, letting them hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again.

“feels good,” you moaned as you buried a hand in his long hair. he maintained his eye contact as he brought his mouth down to your clit and started sucking on it. again, his facial hair tickled your skin, but this time you didn’t mind. it made you more aroused.

jean would eat you out every night if he could. he loved watching you squirm under him, loved hearing you moan out for only him. what he loved the most was how you tasted. your arousal was sweet on his tongue, and it was yet another thing he could never grow tired of.

he started pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, and the combination of that and his tongue working expertly on your clit made you lightheaded. he knew exactly how to make you feel good. he knew how fast you liked it and all the sweet spots in and out of you.

you moaned out for him again, and he replaced his fingers with his tongue. it slid in and out of you with ease; you could feel your arousal mixed with his saliva dripping down your thighs. you could feel your orgasm approaching; the familiar knot in your stomach was starting to form. it would snap any minute now.

jean lifted his head from between your legs when he felt your thighs clench around him. “keep your legs open, baby,” he instructed before going back to sucking on your clit.

he could tell you were close by the way you gripped his hair a little bit tighter, how your eyes squeezed shut, and how your back was starting to lift up off the bed.

“jean!” you felt your orgasm all throughout your body; it made your legs tingle and your heart beat faster. you were in bliss.

his fingers slowed down inside of you, letting you come down from your high. his hand and chin were entirely soaked with your slick, which also got on the bed sheets. he licked his fingers clean before dipping his head back down to clean up the mess between your thighs.

“it’s gonna be hard, but you have to keep quiet,” he teased as he wiped his chin with the back of his hand. he made quick work of undoing his belt; he unbuckled it and slipped it through the loops of his pants with ease.

in the back of his mind, he thought about using it to bind your hands together. he decided against it though; he was in a particularly good mood tonight and he didn’t want to ruin it by not having your hands explore his body.

he dropped it to the floor with a soft thud, then began to unbutton his pants. his dick was unbelievably hard right now, and the way it strained against his boxers was almost painful. he palmed himself through the last layer of fabric before laying flat against the bed.

“can you ride me?” he asked while continuing to palm himself. you nodded your head perhaps a little too eagerly as you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. the straps fell off of your shoulders, and you tugged the whole thing off before tossing it to the side.

you helped him slide his boxers all the way down his long legs before you scooted your body up along his and straddled him. his cock was large, just like everything else about him. the tip was flushed a deep shade of pink and the prominent veins that decorated it lightly pulsed.

jean’s hands softly kneaded your ass as you lifted your hips up. you used the headboard for leverage and brought one hand to the base of his cock, lining it up with your entrance. you decided to tease him a little and drag the tip through your folds.

“baby…” he groaned as you continued the motion. he could have easily slammed you down on his length, but he wanted to be careful with you. after all, you would be carrying another one of his kids soon.

you lined yourself up again, this time slowly sinking down on his cock. your mouth hung open as you were getting used to the way his girth stretched you. jean was already seeing stars; he was about ready to pass out just from sliding inside of you.

“shiiit, baby. you’re so fucking wet,” he moaned as you stilled your hips against his. you could feel every inch of his cock throbbing against your tight walls.

your hands gripped the headboard as you started to drag yourself up and down him slowly. jean fought to keep his eyes open; he wanted to see the way your pussy gripped him every time you went up.

“my god, you’re so big,” you whined as you struggled to take his size. even after giving birth, you still felt tight as ever to him. he wasn’t complaining though, because everything about you made him feel good, no matter what.

as the pain subsided, you found yourself in ecstasy. jean’s hands rubbed your body, moving from your ass to your breasts. he tweaked your nipples, causing you to yelp out loud.

“shh, you gotta be quiet. don’t wanna wake marco up, or even the neighbors,” jean reprimanded you before he soothed your breasts.

after a while, you started to feel your legs give out. you slowed your movements and brought your hands down from the headboard. you slightly leaned back, pressing your palms against jean’s knees.

“‘m tired,” you mumbled. jean pushed your back down so that your chest was against his. he moaned out at the feeling of your pretty tits against him, and he planted his feet flat against the mattress, allowing him to thrust upwards and into you with more force.

your face contorted in pleasure, and you brought your mouth to jean’s neck. you sucked harshly on his sensitive skin as he started getting rough.

“you said you wanted another baby, yeah? i’m gonna give you another one,” he grunted after a particularly deep thrust. you cried aloud and grasped the sheets. you were afraid they might tear from how your fingers twisted them and how your nails dug into the fabric, but that was the least of your worries.

jean abruptly pulled out, and you audibly whimpered at the loss of pleasure. it didn’t last long, as jean flipped out over so that you were on your back and he crawled over you. he slid into you again, hips stuttering at the pressure he felt, before continuing to fuck into you at the same fast pace. his strong hands held your hips down to keep you in place.

“fuck!” you nearly screamed from how good jean felt. it was as if all of your senses were heightened; you felt so sensitive, and you could hear every little breathy moan that left jean’s lips. without thinking, you dragged your nails up and down his back rather harshly. to your surprise, he moaned even louder.

“yeah, fuck me up, baby. love it when you do that,” he breathed out. your chest heaved, and you dug your nails deeper into his skin.

“feels so good, daddy,” you whined.

something inside of jean snapped after he heard you call him that. he nearly stopped thrusting into you, but it clouded his mind and made him want to fuck you even harder. he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. there was an animalistic look in his eyes; it was as if he was a predator and you were his prey.

jean had you trapped. he spread your legs impossibly wider and kept his hands on your thighs. your legs burned from the stretch, but the pleasure you received was significantly overbearing. you could feel him slide even deeper into you.

“you like when daddy fucks you like this, huh?” he grinded his hips into yours before pulling out and repeating the process. “you wanna give daddy another baby, don’t you?”

“yes, yes, yes. wanna have another baby with you, daddy,” you babbled. his taunting words were turning you on even more, and you could hear the squelching noise from between your legs get louder.

“cum for me, darling. cum on my cock,” he coaxed. the feeling of his tip repeatedly brushing against your cervix sent you over the edge one again. your vision blurred and you saw flashes of white, all the while your body convulsed underneath jean’s grip. your mouth was open, but no words came out and you were afraid that you might draw blood from how hard you dug your nails into his back.

jean was amused. he’s never seen you have an orgasm this intense, and it only fueled his ego. he never stopped or slowed down, and instead he chose to keep fucking you through it.

“i’m gonna fill up your pretty cunt until you’re full of my cum,” he moaned out your name a couple of times. you nearly missed it over the sound of your heavy panting.

your legs felt a thousand times heavier, but jean pulled them up with ease. he let your ankles rest on his broad shoulders, and he threw his head back in pleasure. through your half-lidded eyes, you watched as his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he thickly swallowed.

jean’s thrusts started getting sloppy, and you were amazed at how he managed to last this long after fucking you so relentlessly. his grip on your thighs tightened, and he pressed them down so that they were against your chest.

“think you can give me a little girl this time?” you exhaled as he brought his head down next to yours.

that was all jean needed to lose the little self control he had left.

“you want a girl—fuck—this time? no promi—oh my god, fuck, fuck, fuck—y/n! n–no promises,” he moaned as he released his hot cum into you. you could feel him filling you up and dripping down your folds as he pulled out.

he was breathing hard; his chest heaved against yours and his breath fanned over your skin. you brought a hand you the back of his neck and played with his hair a little.

“i’m still hard,” he pointed out, breaking the silence that settled in the room. he nuzzled his face into your neck to leave kisses on your neck.

“but daddy–”

“one more time, darling. i know you can do it again. for me?” jean interrupted. you slowly nodded your head as he pushed himself off of you. he rolled over behind you, pressing your back to his chest. “lift your leg.”

you raised your right leg into the air and you felt jean push his tip into you again. your pussy fluttered around his cock shamelessly, still sensitive from your earlier orgasms. he bottomed out easily, with the mixture of his cum and your slick allowing for a smooth entrance.

this time, jean’s thrusts were much slower, and his grip on your thigh wasn’t as harsh. he relished in the feeling of your walls gripping his cock as he dragged it in and out of you.

“daddy,” you drawled out into a moan. one of his hands cupped your breast before smoothing it over your stomach.

“can’t wait until you’re carrying our kid,” jean moaned. he steadily rocked his hips, letting them slap against your ass. he looked down, watching it jiggle whenever they came into contact.

“i’m gonna cum again,” you whimpered. he held your leg up and started thrusting a bit faster. you turned your head back and kissed jean, allowing him to swallow your moans as you came undone for the third and final time that night. jean came right after you; the feeling of you clenching down on his cock was enough for him to spill another load inside you.

“i love you, i love you, i love you y/n,” he whispered against your lips as he pulled out. you shifted positions so that you were flat on your back and your head was buried in the pillows.

jean balanced his weight on one arm as he brought the other hand down to your core. some of his cum was leaking out of your hole, so he stuck a finger in you and slowly pumped it.

“you can’t waste this if you wanna give me another baby,” he chuckled. you would have normally hit him back with a sarcastic comment, but you were entirely too spent and fucked out to form words. “let’s take care of you now, yeah?”

you meekly nodded your head as he got off the bed and left the room. you could hear the faucet running in the bathroom and assumed that jean was preparing a bath for you.

he returned to the bedroom and lifted you off of the bed. he carried you to the bathroom where the scent of lavender filled your senses and put you at ease. jean lowered you to the floor, and you held onto his arm to keep your balance.

jean went into the tub first; he laid his back against the porcelain-enameled steel and gestured for you to sit between his legs. you stepped in and sunk into the scalding water that was also soothing your body.

you relaxed against jean, letting your head fall back on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist. you stayed in this position before he started rubbing your body to try and ease your muscles.

“i love you,” he whispered into your ear as he pressed his hands against your stomach. “can’t wait for baby number two.”

a calming silence fell upon the both of you. you felt your eyelids getting heavier with each minute that passed, so eventually you got out of the tub with shaky legs. jean followed suit, wrapping a towel around you tightly before drying himself off.

you did your night routine with jean, and he made it a competition to see who could get ready the fastest. he ignored your claim of “hygiene shouldn’t be a competition, jean” and continued doing everything as fast as he could while still making sure he was clean.

when you came back into the bedroom, you couldn’t help but notice how your bed was basically drenched in yours and jean’s cum. you tiredly pulled the bedsheet off of each corner and threw it to the floor. that would be tomorrow’s problem, you thought as you eyed the pile of clothes on the floor as well.

you walked over to your chest drawer and pulled on one of the handles so you could get a nightgown out. you held it up to undo the folds and slipped your arms through the sleeves before pulling it over your head.

jean walked in and saw the sheets on the floor, but he didn’t say anything about it. he got a clean pair of boxers and pants out of the drawer before shutting it and putting them on.

you laid on the bed, and you stretched your arms out at him to tell him you wanted him to lay down with you.

“let me check on marco,” he said, causing you to pout but nod in understanding. he kissed your forehead before he left you alone once again.

he tiptoed down the hallway and twisted the knob to marco’s room. to his surprise, he was grabbing at the railing of the crib and staring at jean with wide eyes.

“hey, buddy! why are you awake?” he said as he pushed the door further open which allowed for more light to fill the room. he walked to the crib and took marco into his arms, lifting him high in the air. “was your mommy being too loud?”

he brought marco down and let him rest his head against his chest. marco brought a small fist up to jean’s hair and started tugging on it.

“heeey, that’s not cool, man. quit it,” he laughed. the vibration of his chest tickled marco, making him squeal. “i gotta get you back to sleep.”

jean spent the next ten or so minutes trying to get his son to settle down, which he eventually did. marco fell asleep in jean’s arms, so he wished him a good night before putting him back in the crib.

upon returning to the bedroom, he noticed that your eyes were already shut. but as if you sensed him walk in, they shot open.

“he’s asleep now?” you asked quietly. jean hummed in response before walking over to you. he placed a kiss on your tummy, and another one on your lips before crawling into bed next to you.

“good night, jean,” you said as he draped an arm over your waist.

“good night, my love,” he replied.

jean subconsciously thanked his younger self for dreaming big. maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

[carlatsukinamistolemyhamsandwich]

Hello CEO of the founder appreciation society, hope your doing well. I’ve come to ask you another random question.

Do you think Carla and Shin would like coffee and alcohol? If yes would they drink either of them regularly? Or has this been already confirmed/denied canonically.

I'm doing well thank you! Apologies for the slight delay in answering.

I'm going to start with discussing coffee and then put any discussion of alcohol below the cut just in case anyone would rather not read about it.

So, I can confirm that it's canon that Shin drinks coffee. There are two examples of this in the Daylight comics (the first involving him ordering an extremely complicated latte at a coffee shop, while in the second it's cold so he tries to get a warm coffee from a vending machine but... it ends up being cold >_>).

As for Carla... I'm not aware of it being specifically mentioned that he's tried coffee before (although I don't own a couple of his bonus CDs so I guess it could have come up in those). Given his propensity towards trying out random stuff from the human world, I can certainly see him trying it at least once. Whether Carla likes sweet foods or not is something up for debate, but I imagine he'd be more likely to enjoy a coffee on the plainer side rather than something with a bunch of syrups in it. Personally I headcanon him as more of a tea drinker (there are scenarios in which both Shin and Carla drink tea), but knowing Carla he probably ends up liking the most pretentious and expensive coffee he can find, adding yet another huge expense onto the Tsukinami household budget.

As for alcohol, I can't remember it coming up with either of them in the games, but in Shin's LE vampire ending CG, Shin and Yui are holding wine glasses (I think, I don't drink very much myself so my knowledge is... somewhat limited) with something that looks like red wine in them. It could easily just be fruit juice or something but I still thought it was worth mentioning.

As for my own personal opinion, I could see Shin potentially enjoying the flavour of nut-flavoured liquors (like amaretto) but I can't imagine he'd drink very much in one go or drink any very often. If I remember correctly, in Shin's LE route, he makes a comment about Zweig stinking of alcohol and while he probably just wanted to insult him, it does give the impression that he doesn't think much of people drinking a lot. I definitely don't ever see him drinking to deliberately get drunk, he's much more likely to deal with emotional distress by going out and punching furniture and/or other demons and I'd bet money he'd get way more pleasure out of a fight than alcohol.

Carla's a little more tricky for me to pin down. Again, I don't see him ever deliberately drinking in excess either (a King should not take leave of his faculties) but I could see him partnering a plate of cured ham with some very fancy alcoholic drink that pairs well with the flavour (I do not know enough to be able to guess what sort of alcohol that might be).

However, one scenario I could see happening to Carla is him trying something, not realising it's alcoholic, and then draining the bottle. He remains none the wiser until he tries to stand up and the entire room tips, at which point he becomes convinced someone is attacking the castle. This has the potential to end badly but is more likely to result in him tripping on his own scarf and ending up in an undignified heap on the floor. Any remaining supplies of the drink in question mysteriously go missing the next day, the only signs they ever existed at all being some faint scorch marks on the wooden shelving.

I hope that answers your questions and that you have a lovely day!

[capondi]

In love there are two things– bodies and words

I didn't think I was going to write anything for Valentine's, because I just couldn't think of anything. But I wanted to put something out there, and since I've never written for James Lewis before... So have some James x F!reader fluff!

TW: Slight mention of canon alcoholism

James added another bullet-point to the board to keep his discussion of The Canterbury Tales on track as a student read their assigned excerpt in a gripping monotone. Finished, he turned around to look out over the room.

Subtle movements caught his eye, and he spied a note being passed beneath the desks toward the front of the class. He sighed quietly. Would they ever realize that he was even more aware of their shenanigans when he had nothing to do but watch and listen? He walked casually down the aisle until he was a couple of feet from a girl who took the note from the person behind her, and, reading the name on the front, smiled privately to herself.

“Anything to share with the rest of the class?”

The girl jumped, embarrassed, and shook her head as she hid the note in her lap. He wasn’t trying to be mean, and he certainly wasn’t going to read her love letter to the class, but he was quite frankly so very tired of the distraction running rampant in his classes.

“Mm-hm. Listen, if I catch anyone else not paying attention then all of you will be receiving an extra assignment, is that understood?” He directed the last part to the entire class, who now all avoided his eyes. Good.

He gestured for the student to keep reading, and returned to his spot behind his desk.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

He watched the students file out after the bell, nodding and smiling at those who acknowledged him. The second the room had emptied he allowed himself a moment to bury his head in his hands and squeeze his eyes shut. He was exhausted. The past couple of weeks had been trying to say the least: working over revisions with his editor had reignited his insecurities as a writer, which had done nothing to ease his AA sessions. Last week he had found himself staring at his old go-to liquor store for so long that the traffic light had turned green, and the car behind him had to honk to get his attention.

That day had been a toughie, to say the least. When he got home he quietly wrapped his arms around you until you walked him to the sofa, holding him close and stroking his hair. He was lucky to have you as his rock- even though you had made him stop saying he was “lucky” out loud, he still said it in his head.

One more class, and he could leave, he consoled himself. He looked out at the hall teeming with students, some holding single red roses. Really, how was he supposed to keep a room of hormonal teenagers engaged with Chaucer on Valentine’s of all days?

Something clicked in his head and suddenly it was like his every bodily function had frozen.

Valentine’s Day.

He picked up his phone and stared at the February 14 on his lock screen like a man staring at the date of his own execution.

How had he forgotten about Valentine’s Day? But it wasn’t like he had forgotten it, really, just that it had left as little impact on his otherwise-occupied mind than fucking Arbor Day. He had gone two straight years without acknowledging it, and even in his last year with Sarah their relationship had been so on the rocks that it had been a token gesture, if that.

But now he had truly fucked up. Wasn’t he supposed to be intelligent?

He knew what a crapshow last-minute Valentine’s plans were. Beginning to panic, he started by calling for a reservation at the first place you and James had ever dined out. Booked solid. He tried four more restaurants with the same result (one had even laughed at him).

He went through the motions of his last class mechanically, and all but bolted to his car. He checked his phone for local florists, and found them all closed for the day. Made sense. He drove to the more high-end grocery store in town, and found himself in a queue of other sad saps who were eyeing up the wilted remains of the floral section. The candy aisle was similarly wiped out.

He could probably search every grocery store and gift shop until nightfall and still find nothing better.

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. He decided that nothing at all was better than a thoughtless, rushed, half-assed gift. You didn’t deserve that from him. If only he was a half-way decent cook he might be able to make something work there. He would just have to apologize, and promise to make it up to you later.

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Pulling up his driveway as the sun started to set, James tried to run through the words he would use to salvage this trainwreck. Some wordsmith he was. He got out of his car and slowly approached the door. He had almost reached the handle when the panic began to set in again. He should have gotten something. Idiot. He nearly turned back around when the sound of the television reached him from inside. It was from that cheesy sitcom the two of you had started watching together as a guilty pleasure. His heart swelled at the thought of putting his arm around your shoulder and laughing at the predictable gags together.

So he opened the door.

He found you on the sofa, your legs curled up on the seat and holding a bowl of cereal. It wasn’t far from dinner time, and neither of you were strict about eating your meals together with your sometimes clashing schedules. But he felt guilty to think that you hadn’t even expected to be treated to a fancy dinner tonight.

You turned your head to look up at him briefly. “Hey, sweetie,” you greeted him with a smile, before facing the TV again. He walked up to the back of the couch, hands fidgeting. His mouth refused to form words, so he leaned down and wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

He was quiet for so long that you sensed something was up, and you turned a little.

“What’s wrong?” Concern laced your voice, too familiar with his bad days.

His voice was muffled in your neck. “I’m sorry, babe.”

You muted the TV. “Sorry for what?”

“IforgotaboutValentine’sDay.”

“What?”

James took a breath, bit the bullet: “I forgot about Valentine’s Day.”

“James-” you turned around so you were on your knees on the couch, hands reaching for his shoulders. “It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting anything.”

His eyes dropped guiltily. You really had lowered your expectations for him. Of course. You tilted his head back up to look at you, clearly desperate to reassure him.

“It’s just one stupid day. Y’know, a capitalist holiday designed to get people to waste their money…” You laughed, but James grimaced.

“That’s what single people and people with shitty boyfriends say.”

A silence followed for a few moments. He gulped, and looked away again. He was thinking of how he had mostly avoided the words “boyfriend” and “girlfriend”. For a man his age, once a husband, to be a “boyfriend” was a kind of regression. Maybe he just wasn’t any good at this relationship thing.

“James.” You waited until he looked back up to continue, your tone now more serious.

“You are not a shitty boyfriend. I wasn’t expecting anything because I don’t need anything but you.”

Before he could make another negative retort you pulled him forward and kissed him, and you didn’t stop until you had him leaning part-way over the back of the couch. At this point you grabbed him by his tie and pulled him inelegantly over onto the seats, where he sprawled on top of you. You both laughed, and when you reached for the remote to presumably unmute the TV, he snatched it from your hands and turned it off instead.

He might not have flowers and candy and steak dinners to offer, but he still had a few ideas of how to make the night special

xoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Thank you for reading!